by Ella Brooke
Yeah. It was. Seeing you like that. “I know. The air-conditioning’s not working. I should have called you. I’ll be more conscientious next time.” Next time? Who said there’d be a next time?
“Don’t worry about the yard. Looks like it needs watering anyway,” I say with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the moment and deflect my unsavory urges at the same time.
Quinn’s face turns beet red as she slips on her flip-flops and hands the towel back to me. “I have to go. Hope everything is okay at your work. Goodbye.” She doesn’t look at me as she hurries from the room toward the front door. She didn’t ask for her pay, and I’ve forgotten to stop at the ATM. God, she’s embarrassed as sin. I don’t think there’s a wanton sorority sister in there anywhere, and the sound of her goodbye pierces me like a shot from my nail gun. I don’t want her to leave like this.
“Wait. I haven’t paid you,” I call out.
She stops with her hand on the doorknob, her head down. “That’s okay. I’ve got to go.”
I follow her to the door. “I forgot to pick up some cash. And I just remembered, I have a business dinner to attend tomorrow night. Could you stay with Rose again? I’ll pay you two hundred dollars for both days. Sound fair?”
Quinn chances a glance at me over her shoulder. “Two hundred…?”
“Sure.” I know it’s a ridiculous offer, but I’m making it anyway, to atone for my thoughtlessness. And my own guilty conscience. A student could use the extra money, right?
She shakes her head and twists the knob. “Oh no, Mr. Brenner… I couldn’t take that… it’s way too much. And I have classes the rest of the week.”
Mr. Brenner? It sounded so cold and… subservient… coming from her lips. I didn’t like it. It made me sound like one of her professors at the University. I cringe at the idea I’m likely old enough to be one of them.
“Call me Logan,” I say, with a genuine smile. I want her to trust me, the same way I’m beginning to trust her. Most of all I want her to return tomorrow. “Just two hours, I promise. You’ll be home early. Please?”
Quinn chews her lip as she appears to think it over. The gesture nearly makes me hard again. It’s adorable and sexy at the same time. Please say yes.
“What time?” she asks.
“Uh… is six o’clock okay?”
“Okay,” she says with a curt nod. “Goodnight, Mr. Brenner.”
“Logan,” I remind her. She looks at me and flashes a tiny smile that makes my privates give an extra twitch.
“Okay, Logan.”
“Great,” I say, and exhale a relieved breath. Better. Much better. “See you then. Thanks.”
In a blink she’s gone, the door swinging closed behind her. I move to the window to watch her curvy form jog away from me and over to the large house next door. It occurs to me a student likely isn’t living on her own in a place like that. She must have roommates. If so, I hoped they all weren’t as much of a knockout as she is. I’d be a dead man in no time, having to jerk off every time one of them so much as looked over the fence.
But my hopeful cock retreats to stand-by mode as I consider the other likelihood—she’s still living with her parents. Now I really feel like a lecherous shit, practically bribing a young girl, luring her out from under the watchful eyes of Mom and Dad with a piece of candy. But I really do need a sitter tomorrow, and I don’t want to ask Lila. She won’t approve of where I’m going.
I’d told a white lie; it’s not a business dinner, but it does involve some unfinished business. And unlike Quinn, it’s with the last person I ever want to see again. The last person I ever want Rose to see again. I wonder if I’ll even recognize her after all this time. Four years could change a lot of things, but I doubted it had changed Jolene; at least not for the better. I’d closed my heart at the same moment she’d closed the door on me… on us. Me and Rose. And I never planned to open it again.
But no matter how thick the barrier, a sliver of light can still seep in. The warm sunny kind, like the light reflecting off Quinn’s crown of golden hair right now, that tricks you into thinking it’s springtime again; lures you into opening it just that little crack. Only to be met with the bitter wind of betrayal and loneliness. No. That door has to stay bolted and barred.
I’m no spring chicken. And I never want to experience another winter of being abandoned by the very people who should have been my shelter. First my mother, then the mother of my child. Hadn’t two killing touches of frost been enough to deaden the seeds of hope and trust? Bury them so deep no ray of sunshine or drop of moisture could reach them?
I can deny it all I want, but I’ve worked outdoors in the elements long enough to know I can’t fight nature. Maybe the old saying is true. Hope springs eternal.
Chapter Five
Quinn
Adventures in Babysitting
“God, I’m sure I flunked.”
Rochelle turns to me as we exit the lecture room, a look of incredulity on her dark-skinned face. “Oh, come on. You? Miss Study Hall? It’s the first quiz of the semester. We’ve barely covered anything. How could you possibly flunk?”
“I dunno, I just don’t feel good about how I did. I didn’t study as much as I should have,” I say, shaking my head. It’s true. Ever since that damn moving van pulled up next door, my concentration’s gone to shit.
“Why not?” Rochelle asks, her fro locks bouncing as we walk. “Don’t tell me you actually have something else on your mind. I can’t even pry you away from your books with the promise of free beer, for Christs’ sake.”
“You know I don’t even like beer,” I remind her.
“Hmf,” Rochelle snorts, fixing me with her narrowed, dark chocolate eyes. “You know you’re an abomination, don’t you, Quinnie? A college student who doesn’t drink beer, and is still a virgin. You’re a freak of nature.”
I wince, but I’ve learned to embrace Rochelle’s blunt but well-meaning insults. They’re all part of the exuberant, outspoken personality that’s my best friend, and she looks out for me in her own no-punches-pulled way. She’s brash, loud, overtly sexy, and no blushing virgin like me. I wished I could be more like her. At my age, my virgin state has almost become a liability. “As opposed to you, who’s just a regular freak?” I tease.
“Superfreak, if you don’t mind,” she says, poking me in the arm. “Seriously, what’s eatin’ you, girl?”
As we leave the building and stroll across the grassy common, I try to put my thoughts and feelings into words that won’t send her into fits of laughter. I’m still embarrassed by the events of yesterday, and even more embarrassed to speak of them, but I have to confide in someone. Who better to tell than my best friend?
I motion Rochelle off the path and under the shade of a big tree nearby. “I did something incredibly stupid yesterday,” I say, lowering my voice even though we’re out of earshot of the many students passing by. “Really embarrassing, and I don’t know what to do.”
Rochelle sets her backpack down on the grass and lowers herself to sit cross-legged beside it, beckoning me to do the same. “Sugar, this sounds like it might take awhile. C’mon, take a load off. Next class isn’t for an hour.”
I sigh and sit next to her under the tree. “I met someone yesterday.”
“Oh, hell no. Let me call CNN. Who?”
“My new next-door neighbor. His name’s Logan.”
“Mmm, I take it he’s hot? What’s the problem?”
“He’s got a kid, A little girl.”
“A kid?” Rochelle repeats, her brow creasing. “So he’s married? How old is this guy?”
I shrug and pick nervously at the blades of grass around me. “I’m not sure. Older. Maybe thirty-five? Forty? I don’t think he’s married. There’s just the two of them.”
Rochelle’s eyes widen to show a circle of white around her deep brown irises. “Forty? That’s almost as old enough to be your father. How hot can he be?”
“Very,” I say, turning to look her in the eyes. “
Is it bad that I think he’s hot?”
Rochelle blinks. “Hey, you feel how you feel. There’s no right or wrong, good or bad. If you’re into older guys, it’s no wonder I can’t get you interested in any campus sausage,” she says, nudging me with her elbow. “What happened that’s so embarrassing?”
“I went over to welcome them to the neighborhood, and I swear my heart dropped into my toes when I saw him close up—he’s so handsome. And ripped. He’s got muscles on top of his muscles. Just the sound of his voice made my insides turn to mush. We were talking, and when he got called into work, I offered to watch his little girl, Rose. He was only supposed to be an hour, but after two hours I put her down for a nap and went outside to cool off in the backyard. You know how it was yesterday.”
Rochelle nods. “And?”
“I turned on the garden hose, just to wet my neck, but…” I swallow the uncomfortable lump in my throat. “I pretty much ended up taking a shower. It felt so good I just kept pouring it over my head and shoulders. I thought I’d be dry again in a minute… but then he saw me. Caught me by surprise, all soaking wet, my nipples sticking out for the world to see. I thought I’d die of embarrassment.” I look over at my friend, hoping for some sympathy. Advice. Anything.
“And what did he do?” Rochelle asks.
“He got me a towel. But I saw how he looked at me. Just like the guys on campus. I felt like raw meat.”
As predicted, Rochelle bursts out laughing. “Well, he’s a guy after all. Of course he looked at you. You’re not exactly a tomboy, Quinnie. You’ve got curves that would put a rattlesnake to shame. Is that a bad thing? I thought you said you liked him.”
“I do like him, but Roch, I don’t want to be just a sex object or a one-night stand. What if that’s all he sees me as?”
“Well if he’s as good looking as you say he is, I’d say ‘bring it honey’,” she says as she laughs and grabs at her crotch to make her point. “I like a man with experience. But you…” she clucks her tongue. “I know you and your ‘Snow White’ analytic brain… not to mention your ‘Snow White’ virgin pussy. You want your first time to be all roses and rainbows and unicorns.” Rochelle shakes her curly head. “Sorry, sugar. This is the real world. If that’s what you want, be prepared to be disappointed.”
I frown at her cavalier attitude. But that’s Rochelle, slutty by nature. “So far, you’re not helping,” I say.
Rochelle shrugs. “What do you want? A guarantee? There are no guarantees. If you want to lose your virginity, I’m sure he’ll help you out. But if the idea bothers you, just stay away from him.”
“I can’t. He’s asked me to babysit again tonight, and I said yes.”
She admonishes me with a disdainful tilt of her head. “Well, then I suggest you be careful. But it sounds to me like you’ve already made a decision. If he’s into you, just enjoy it. I know it’s hard for you, Ms. Psychology major, but sometimes you just have to stop analyzing things.”
“You’re right.” I promise to take her advice as we leave the common, brushing grass off our legs, and I just hope I will be thinking as clearly when I come face-to-face with Logan Brenner again tonight.
***
At six o’clock I knock on Logan’s door. It’s another warm evening, and I’m wearing shorts again but made sure to put on a brassiere this time. I chose a baggy T-shirt so as not to call attention to any of my bumps, curves or protruding nipples.
I’m determined to keep my cool and not let yesterday’s incident bother me, but I’m already compromised at the sight of a smiling Logan that greets me in the doorway wearing a sport coat, dress shirt, and slacks. He looks amazing. “Hi, you’re right on time. Come in.”
I step inside, and a rush of cool air meets me. It seems he’s managed to fix the air conditioning.
“Hi. I’ve brought a couple of movies that I thought Rose might like,” I say, and gesture to the portable DVD player in my hand. “I hope that’s alright. I didn’t know if you have your TV and stuff set up yet.”
“How thoughtful of you. I’m sure Rose will love that.”
As if on cue, Rose comes running from the other side of the room toward me with her arms open. “Kin!” she squeals. I laugh at her interpretation of my name. She’s adorable and seems to have taken to me despite only meeting me once. I set the player down and wrap her in a friendly hug.
“Well, it looks like you’ve gotten the official welcome,” Logan says, checking his watch. “I shouldn’t be too long. You girls have fun, okay? Bye Rosebud. Give Daddy a kiss?”
“Nuh-uh,” Rose says with a shake of her brunette head, seemingly unwilling to let go of me. “Bye, Daddy.” Now I’m convinced that her mother is not in the picture, given how much she seems to want my company, even refusing a kiss from Daddy. There I go, over-analyzing already. Logan feigns a hurtful look, sticking out his lower lip. I want to kiss those lips in the worst way, so I focus on Rose instead.
“Is your name Rosebud?” I ask in an exaggerated voice. “I thought it was Rose.” She giggles and squirms free.
“Come see my room!” she says, beckoning with her tiny fingers before speeding off down the hallway.
“I’ve been dumped,” Logan says good-naturedly. “You’ve won the heart of my princess, Lady Quinn. I bow down.” He splays a hand over his chest and leans forward.
“I’m sure you’re still the crown prince,” I say. “She’ll be missing you in about five minutes.”
Logan’s hazel eyes lock on mine for a moment, and I feel suspended in time and space. I want to get lost in their browny-green depths forever. But I don’t want him to know that. Or do I?
“I doubt that, but I know I’ll be missing her,” he says, his voice slipping into a sexy low register. “And her new best friend.”
What did he just say? I smile and wave off the comment, and whatever he intends by it. Any analysis of it might quash the little thrill it triggers in my heart, and I promised Rochelle I’d quit analyzing.
“You don’t want to be late,” I say, glancing toward the door. “We’ll be fine, don’t you worry about a thing.”
“I won’t be worried,” he says and turns toward the door. “Oh, wait.” He stops and reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket. “You might as well take this now—before I forget again.” He hands me a stack of bills. “Two hundred, as agreed.”
My fingers brush his as I take the crisp green notes from his hand. I’m probably imagining things, but a sizzle of electricity seems to bolt up my arm even from this innocent contact.
“Thank you,” I say, the same hot blush as yesterday rising up my neck.
“Thank you,” he replies, his gaze lingering on me before he finally turns and steps out the door. I breathe a sigh of relief as he closes it behind him. Now at least I can concentrate on Rose’s needs and not my own that seem to have settled in the region between my legs. Damn. Logan Brenner is one HOT papa.
***
After three games of Chutes & Ladders, while sitting on the carpet in Rose’s room, I ask if she wants to watch a movie.
“Yeah!” she says, jumping up and scattering the playing board and pieces in the air. “Pock-corn?”
“Okay, but you have to get your PJs on first,” I say, gathering the game box and collecting the pieces. I hope there’s popcorn in the kitchen because I didn’t think to bring any snacks. After helping her into her pajamas, Rose finds some microwave packets in the pantry. I’m impressed at how tidy and organized the house looks since yesterday. Logan seems to be a good housekeeper in addition to an incredibly handsome man and a successful business owner. Man, talk about having the whole package!
We settle into the couch, and I let Rose pick a disc from the pile I’ve brought. I smile as she points to the Dirty Dancing cover. I’m sure she has no idea what the movie is about, but I’ve always loved it because it reminds me of my own mom. We always watched it together when Dad was working a lot. I know she would have been a dancer herself if she hadn’t decided to se
ttle down and become the doctor’s perfect wife.
When Rose starts to nod off in my lap, I carry her back to her bedroom and tuck her in. She rolls over and falls fast asleep. It’s just after eight o’clock, and Logan’s not back yet, so I curl up on the couch and indulge in the rest of Dirty Dancing and bittersweet memories of my beautiful mother, Erica VanderKemp. I can’t help but shed a nostalgic tear when I hear the line, “No one puts Baby in the corner!” It was her favorite, and it only underscores how much I miss her. I wonder if Rose even knew her mother well enough to miss her. I doze off trying to imagine what circumstances surrounded the absence of Mrs. Brenner.
Chapter Six
Logan
Forbidden Fruit
I slide behind the wheel of my truck and start the engine, desperately thankful to be out of the restaurant at last. Two hours of arguing with a supposedly reformed alcoholic and drug addict have tested the limits of my nerves and my temper. I’d been reluctant to agree to this meeting without the mediator present, and I regretted it now more than ever.
Jolene claimed to be a changed person, but she wasn’t fooling me. Not this time.
“I have a right to see my daughter!” she’d demanded, pounding her fist on the table. Her agitation only proved how unchanged she really was. The off-color stares of the patrons around us supported that. Always one to make a scene, I recalled with bitter clarity. The only thing worse than having this deranged woman as the mother of my child would have been to have her as my wife. Thank God I never married her.
I told her she’d have to take me to court to get visitation rights, then paid the check and left. I’m a reasonable man, but betrayal by the two women I’d loved most in my lifetime has eroded my capacity to forgive. Or forget.
All that mattered to me was Rose’s well-being, and I knew from bitter experience that exposing her to an unbalanced individual like her birth mother at this stage of her young life would only be damaging. Rose has no memory of Jolene, and I intend to keep it that way.