“They rent a meeting room at the library every month,” she says. “And they use our coffee pot, even though they’re not supposed to,” she adds darkly.
“Well, they filed a petition with five hundred signatures. They’re worried about privacy and First Amendment rights, mostly.”
She snorts. “It sounds so petty compared to ideas like citizen safety and holding police officers accountable.”
I tilt my head, conceding her point. “Yes. But privacy isn’t petty for rape victims. Or victims of domestic violence. Or citizens who might have undocumented relatives and friends. It’s crucial for them.”
Her face grows more serious. “That’s true. But isn’t this something that can be navigated? Lots of departments already are using them!”
“Exactly. It can be figured out. I just need to convince the Chief that it’s worth the effort to figure it out.”
“The signatures,” she says, realizing. And then she brightens up again, and I get to see the way she lights up when she’s having ideas, when she’s passionate. “Okay. It may take some convincing, but I think I might be able to get my manager to let me host something.”
“Really?”
She nods, getting more and more excited. “We could do a big civic event, right when it’s getting warm. We could use the parking lot, bring in local businesses to donate food and drinks, and invite the other agencies—fire and EMT. We can structure the event around the community, and you can give a presentation about body cameras there. We’ll have the petitions circulating the whole time. People will come for the free ice cream and for their kids to play on the fire trucks, and then we’ll present them with this chance to make Prairie Village a better, safer city for everyone.” She stops and beams at me. “What do you think?”
I think she’s the sexiest, smartest woman I’ve ever known. I come around the counter and pull her into my arms, loving the way she wraps her legs around my waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I think you’re too fucking perfect to go another moment without my face between your legs.”
She flushes under my praise and laughs. “I thought I owed you my mouth tonight, remember?”
I’m already carrying her to the bedroom, my cock hardening like steel in my jeans.
“Don’t worry, kitten. There’s always tomorrow night.”
10
Livia
I can still smell Chase on my sheets when I wake up the next morning. Still feel his presence. I keep my eyes closed and savor his scent, remembering the way he cooked me dinner and cleaned my kitchen. Remembering the tickle of his beard along my skin when his mouth was between my legs. Remembering all the dirty things he did before coming inside me for a second time last night.
The wonderful, amazing, dirty things.
I’ve come to terms with enjoying the sex, but that’s only while we’re having it. When he’s gone, I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this, but I can’t help it. He’s so vivid in my memory. So clear. His energy so warm and strong. It’s almost like he never left. Almost like…
Wait.
I open my eyes and sure enough, Chase is laying next to me, fully dressed, watching me sleep.
My heart trips a beat, but any thrill I feel is immediately wiped away with a rush of anxiety.
“Did you break in?” I ask as calmly as I can. Maybe he’s not a serial killer, but I hadn’t considered he might be a stalker.
His lip curls up in amusement. “No. I never left.”
“That’s worse,” I groan, flinging my arm over my eyes. If I can’t see him, maybe he’ll disappear. Maybe I’m still dreaming. Maybe I’ll wake up alone. As I should be. As any woman who has contracted a man to impregnate her should be.
But it’s not a dream. He really spent the night. In my bed.
Ah, fuck me with crème brûlée French toast.
“It was an accident,” he says, as though he can read my mind. “You wore me out. I fell asleep.”
I sneak a glance in his direction. “But you obviously already got up. You’re dressed. You could have snuck out, and I would never have known.” I throw my arm down and stare at him point blank. “Why didn’t you do that? Why are you still here?”
“Because folic acid is important for women when they’re trying to get pregnant,” he says, as though that clears everything up.
“And?”
“And I noticed you didn’t have any orange juice in your fridge. So I wanted to be sure you got your folic acid.”
I scowl. But I can’t hold it for very long because he seems to really care about my folic acid intake, and that’s kind of sweet. And he looks so sexy doing it. And because my thighs still ache from all the action they got the night before, so maybe I’m letting my hormones get the best of me, but I am ovulating.
“That sounds dirty when you say it,” I say, resigned. Resigned to him being here and being hot and me being hornier than I want to admit.
“Everything sounds dirty when I say it. Come on.” He pulls the sheet off of me and swats my behind. “Get up. Get dressed.”
“Why?” I groan again. As long as he’s here, we could get in another round of baby-making, but not if I’m supposed to be getting dressed.
“Because you can’t leave the house naked,” he says, standing up. “I personally wouldn’t have a problem with it, but I’d have to arrest you for public indecency, and though I want to see you in my cuffs, it’s not going to be any fun if you’re behind bars.”
Goose bumps erupt along my skin at the mention of his cuffs, but I hug myself, pretending it’s because I’m cold. “We’re leaving the house together?” I sigh and resign myself to this now as well. “Where are we going?”
He rolls his eyes in exaggerated annoyance. “To get some folic acid. Haven’t you been paying attention to anything I’ve said?”
With a shake of my head, I climb out of bed and shoo him out of my room so I can get ready. I put my hair up in a messy bun and take a quick shower then throw on a green cap-sleeve knit dress patterned with chemistry formulas.
When I come out of the bedroom I smell coffee, and before I can ask, Chase hands me a travel mug with room for milk at the top.
“I didn’t know how you took it,” he says.
I thank him, and he watches as I doctor it up with the right amount of milk and sugar. Then I grab my purse and hesitate, my hand hovering over the hook by the door where I keep my car keys.
I look at him, questioning.
“Do you trust me driving you someplace?” he asks. “If you’d rather take your car and follow… But we aren’t going far and that’s kind of a drag.”
I drop my hand. “You can drive me. I trust you. Ish.”
“Ish?”
“I trust-ish you. Ish. Just.” This is stupid. I trust him. I do. It’s myself I don’t trust. I might be able to manage sex without attachment—and I’m only barely sure I can manage that—but I’m not at all sure I can handle spending real time together.
But I’m already crossing all the lines of precaution, venturing into territory that makes our every interaction more complicated and our lives more intertwined. I can stop. I know I can. The truth is I don’t know if I want to.
At least I don’t want to before breakfast.
With another sigh, I nudge him toward the door. “Take me wherever you’re taking me. This better be some damn good folic acid.”
Less than ten minutes later, we’re pulling into the driveway of a two-story house with yellow vinyl siding and an American flag mounted by the front door. The yard is landscaped simply but earnestly, and even though it’s early spring, the lawn has been attended to. It’s cute. Not too small. Exactly the kind of house I’d love to raise my kid in but could never afford on my current salary. Not in Prairie Village, anyway.
The problem is, I can’t think of any good reason that Chase would bring me to someone’s residence. Unless it’s his house.
He already has his door open, but I don’t mov
e. “Your house, Chase? Seriously?”
God, I hope I’ve guessed wrong.
But I haven’t. “Where did you think I was taking you?”
“I don’t know. First Watch? IHOP? Starbucks?” Someplace a hundred times less personal, and oh my God, he lives this close to me? I shouldn’t know this. I so wish I didn’t know this.
“My house is better than all of the above combined.” He tugs on the sleeve of my dress. “Come on. I’ll make you the best lemon brown sugar blueberry pancakes you’ve ever tasted. And, if you’re good, I might even let you have some of my sausage.”
“I sure hope that’s not a euphemism because I’m not happy, and also, now I want sausage.” I set my empty travel mug in his cup holder though and reluctantly get out of the car.
“What’s so terrible about coming to my house?” he asks as I come around his Audi and meet him on the front stoop.
Chase unlocks the door and holds it open for me.
I rant while I walk inside. “We’re not dating. We’re not supposed to be ‘hanging out.’ We’re not supposed to be getting to know each other or spending time together. We’re supposed to be banging and that’s it.”
It’s then that I notice we aren’t alone. There’s an elderly man sitting with a laptop at the dining room table, which is clearly visible from the front door in the open-concept living space.
“Uh, hi,” I say, wishing I was invisible. Or at least not so loud. “Sorry.”
“Didn’t hear a thing.” He gives us a sidelong glance and then turns back to his screen. “I’m just banging away on this stupid computer here, trying to figure out how the damn thing works.”
His choice of words isn’t an accident. He obviously heard me.
I exchange looks with Chase. I’m sure I’m beet red. I want to die.
“I want to die,” I mouth to Chase.
Laughing, he beckons me to the dining room. “Pop this is Livia. She works at the library with Megan. We’re…” He looks at me, searching.
I don’t say a thing. But I think several things in his direction. Things like, Are you serious? You’re the one who brought me here. You should have thought about what you were going to say before that you...you...hot cop.
“Friends,” he finishes after a beat.
I shoot daggers with my eyes. We are not friends. Though I’m not sure what else he could have said. Even if he wasn’t contractually obligated to keep our deal a secret, I’m her sperm donor probably isn’t the best way to introduce a woman to your grandfather.
“Livia, this is my grandpa, Dennis, but I promise he won’t answer to anything other than Pop.”
“Hi,” I say, grinning awkwardly and too widely. “Again.”
“Nice to meet you, Livia.” Pop studies me, and I study him. He’s leathery and wrinkled, but it’s obvious he was very handsome when he was younger. He’s still handsome now. His bone structure is exceptional and the deep creases by his mouth and eyes are the kind earned from a good-humored person.
It’s obvious Chase comes from good genes. That he’ll age well. Which I’m glad to know.
For the baby, naturally.
Though it doesn’t matter what his opinion is, I can’t help but wonder what Pop sees looking at me.
“Chase doesn’t usually bring his women home,” he says after a moment. “You must be special.”
“I’m not his woman,” I say definitively.
“He doesn’t bring friends either.” His eyes twinkle in the same way that Chase’s do, and my chest tightens at the old man’s words.
Is Pop right? Am I special to Chase?
I glance over at the sexy man who is now wearing an apron that says Kiss the Chef If You Can Handle the Heat and is currently gathering the items he needs for his pancake concoction.
“I’m making Livia breakfast,” he says, pulling a carton of eggs and a carton of orange juice from the fridge. He sets the eggs on the counter then pours some juice into a glass before bringing it to me. “Behave yourself, Pop, and I’ll make some pancakes for you too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the old man grumbles and turns back to his computer.
I take the folate-rich orange juice and thank him. I don’t want to know if I’m special to him, I decide. It will only complicate things. But he’s giving me things. He’s giving me some fun and some folic acid, and most importantly, he’s going to give me a baby. So I let myself start to get comfortable with the idea that he’s always going to be special to me.
An hour later, I’m finishing my third glass of orange juice and my second plate of pancakes. Between last night and today, Chase has proven he’s a really good cook. Too many meals with him, and I’ll have to double my twice-weekly Jazzercize class attendance.
Pop sits next to me, his laptop turned so we can both see the screen. “Now that I’ve saved the picture, how can I find it again?” he asks.
I wipe my fingers so they aren’t sticky. “Since you remembered to save it in the photos folder this time like I showed you, all you have to do is pull up your folders list, like this.” I demonstrate for him. “And there it is. Double click on the thumbnail to open it.”
Though I’d tried to help prepare breakfast, it only took Chase two minutes to discover I wasn’t any good in a kitchen, and he quickly banished me to the dining room table with his grandfather. Wanting to feel useful somewhere, I’ve ended up helping Pop figure out a few things on his new computer. He’s slow on the uptick, but not any less guidable than the teens I work with at the library.
“Hey,” Chase says, taking my empty plate from me. “You’re good with him. You should teach him how to use it for real. Give him some regular lessons.”
I throw him a glare. Normally, this kind of volunteer project would be right up my alley. But this man will be the great grandfather to my baby-to-be. I can’t be spending time with him.
“I’m sure I don’t know anything more about computers than you do,” I say, not wanting to hurt the old man’s feelings with a simple no.
Chase doesn’t seem to pick up on the reasons for my hesitation. “Yeah, but I have no patience for the man.” He stacks his grandfather’s plate on top of the others in his hand and takes them to the sink.
“Correction, son,” Pop interjects. “I have no patience for you.”
I cough and cover my mouth to hide my laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chase says rinsing the plates when the doorbell rings. Then rings again. And again. Then several more times.
“Shit!” Chase turns off the water and turns to face me. His face is pale and his eyes wide.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I knew nothing about this. I swear.” He’s apologetic and concerned.
I stand up, my alarm growing. “Knew nothing about what?”
Before he can answer, the front door opens, and Megan walks in with a tote bag over her shoulder, Josiah asleep on her hip, and Keon in tow behind.
And now I understand the reason for the panic.
There’s no time to move though. No time to react. No time to do anything but stand there and wait for the disaster that’s about to happen.
“The doorbell is not a toy,” she says to Keon. “You ring it once only. And we don’t even have to ring the bell here because I have a key.” She blazes through the living room toward us like she’s on a mission. “Good morning, Pop! I have a ton of errands I’m running today and you’re on the way to the dry cleaners so I brought some more Icy Hot patches for your knee and some of that Calms Forte you like to help you sleep better. It shouldn’t make you too drowsy the next day. Chase can help you with the bottle if your arthritis is bothering you. Nice to see you, brother of mine, and. Oh.”
She finally takes a breath. Finally sees me in the room. “Liv.” She looks from me to Chase then back to me again. “Good morning.”
“Uh, hi.” I wave like an idiot.
Keon runs to Pop and pulls at his leg. “Ant Smasher. Ant Smasher.”
The old man lifts the litt
le boy up to his lap, and my heart melts imagining this exact thing but with Chase’s child. “Nope, kid. Not on this machine. What we got on this beast? Solitaire, I think. Let’s find out.”
Pop pushes some buttons and whatever he manages to find, it seems to entertain the both of them.
With their attention occupied, Megan resumes darting her eyes back and forth between me and my sperm donor.
“So,” she says after several seconds pass in silence. “Is someone going to fill me in?”
“There’s nothing to fill,” I say, then blush because I’m a bad liar and because Chase has been filling me quite well.
Apparently, he’s also turned me into a pervert.
Megan narrows her eyes. “Are the two of you…?”
“No!” Chase and I say at once. Like that’s not obvious.
“I’m helping Pop with his computer,” I say in a rush, eager to make this situation seem anything other than what it is. Though, at this point, I’m not sure what it is. This morning’s activities have had nothing at all to do with our contractual agreement.
“Ah. I see.” Megan doesn’t seem convinced, but she turns to her grandfather anyway, and says, “I told you Phil would help you with that, Pop.”
“She’s nicer than Phil,” Pop says, nodding in my direction. “She’s prettier than him, too.” He winks as though he knows he’s part of a cover-up.
And because I’ve completely fallen for this old man, I wink back.
Chase returns to loading the dishwasher. “Want some pancakes, Sis? I still have some batter left.”
Yeah, that’s good. Change the subject. Divert her attention from us with delicious food.
Megan doesn’t fall for it. “I had a Slimfast. Thanks. Liv, can I see you in the other room for a moment?” She turns and walks out of the dining room, not waiting to see if I’ll follow.
I give a final look to Chase who mouths, “Good luck,” before I proceed after his sister.
Megan hasn’t gone far, only to the other side of the living room. But it’s far enough that I’m sure her brother can’t hear her when she says quietly, “I haven’t seen you since you and Chase went out together, and he’s refused to tell me anything.”
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