I wish everyone else felt the same way she does and I decide quickly she doesn’t need to know what I’ve done. In her eyes, it’s easy to explain, and maybe right now what I need is easy too. “That means a lot to me, Riley. Thank you.” I’m trying to keep it together here, trying not to let this little girl know how much she’s slayed me, clearing my throat to get the emotion out.
“Can we pick out our pumpkins now?”
“Yeah we can,” I laugh, because it’s the only thing I can do. Leaning down, I kiss her on the cheek, realizing for the first time I wish she was mine. I’d teach her all about love, and dare some fucking prick to hurt her. “Let’s go, Mom should be here soon.”
And like that, she’s got me wrapped around her finger – again.
21
Hadley
I’m almost positive these two have picked the three biggest pumpkins they could find to bring home and carve. “Are we even sure these will fit in the car?” I joke as we make our way to where I’ve parked.
For a few minutes I can almost believe we’re a real family. I’m pulling a wagon, and Riley’s perched in Trick’s arms, jabbering away about carving these pumpkins. On my way over to meet them, I stopped at the grocery and picked up stuff to make us dinner, and Trick’s mentioned s’mores again. Maybe one day, this really can be my family.
I stop at my trunk, opening it, while Trick walks Riley over to the backseat.
“I’ll get those,” he yells, so I can hear him, as he buckles her in.
Another thing I’m not used to, someone helping me with all the heavy lifting. It’s a lot harder for me to get used to than I ever thought it would be. I fought hard for my independence, and it’s hard letting someone help me. Which, I’m aware, is completely insane.
Trick finishes up with Riley and closes the door, coming around the car.
“Hey,” he says with a smile. His voice is a caress, low enough so only I can hear him, the tone making my heart race. His smile meant for me alone.
We haven’t had a chance to talk today without Riley being around. “Hey,” I smile back at him, hoping it’s flirtatious. I’m totally out of practice.
When he takes his aviators off, I almost melt, because the hazel eyes he hides are as gorgeous as he is. “You were gone this morning when I woke up. I didn’t scare you, did I?”
“No,” I shake my head, that’s the last thing he did. “I just didn’t want Riley to have to stay with Mrs. Oliver any longer than she had to. I don’t leave her often, and it felt a little – I don’t know – indulgent, to laze in bed with you when my daughter was with the neighbor. Ya know? It wasn’t anything about you, it was about me. I’m going to have to get used to letting the mom part of me go for longer than a few hours at a time. You got my note, right?”
“I did, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep, and I totally get why you left. Believe me, I always want you to be a mom to her. More than anything, I want you to be a good mom to her. I don’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable, so if you do, please let me know.”
“If I felt uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have let her be with you today, I wouldn’t have gone and bought food so we can eat dinner together later. Seriously, Trick…if I was given an option, I’d be even more comfortable with you than I already have been.”
He steps back, cupping my hip in his hand, giving it a squeeze. This seems to be his move, he does it a lot. “Good,” he grins, bending down to put the pumpkins in my trunk.
I admire the way his muscles move under the long-sleeve shirt he’s wearing today, along with a beanie covering his hair. Now that I know what’s under the shirt though, I wish it was hot enough for him to be shirtless. When he’s done, he brushes his hands off before turning to face me.
“I’ll see you at my apartment?”
“Yup, we have no other stops to make, so we’ll either follow you over, or the other way around.”
“You lead, I’ll follow.”
I’ve noticed this about him, he’s a gentleman in like every sense of the word. Riley and I always enter a door before him. Apparently we ride in the car in front of him, as well.
“See you over there then.”
We both linger over the trunk, hood still open, so we’re blocked off from everyone milling around. We’re dancing around each other, and I know we are, but I can’t bring myself to make the first move. I made the first move last night.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly when I’ve given up he’s going to make any kind of move.
“You don’t have to ask,” I bite my lip, voice deep, because I want it. “Just go for it.”
“That’s what you did, right?” he teases as his palm cups my neck, tilting my head up as he brings his down.
“Right,” I breathe, just before his lips capture mine. As far as kisses go, this one is chaste, but he sneaks in a slip of his tongue. Just that little bit causes me to grip his waist, holding on for dear life. As we break apart, his forehead touches mine as I lick my lips, loving the taste that’s specifically Trick.
“I’ll see you there,” he drops a ghost of a kiss on my forehead, before he puts the sunglasses back on, and makes his way over to his bike.
Turning to my trunk, I close it, and try to compose myself. Nobody has ever been able to affect me with one touch, and maybe that’s what scares me more than anything.
“Did you have fun with Trick?” I question Riley as I get in the car and leave from the pumpkin patch.
“Yeah, he’s fun,” she’s coloring in the book Trick gave her on their second meeting. “People look at him.”
I’ve noticed it too, but it’s because he walks around every place we go like he owns it. “I know, honey, he has that type of personality.”
“It’s weird,” she keeps talking. “No one walks close to us.”
She’s right about that; no one walks close to Trick, and it’s because of the attitude he throws out. How do I explain this to a six-year-old? Granted she’s much older than her years, but this is too deep. “Maybe he stinks,” I wrinkle my nose at her in the rearview mirror.
“Mom! He doesn’t stink!”
Riley seems to be offended for him, but it’s enough to get her mind off of what she’s already noticed. “You don’t think so?”
“No,” she giggles. “He smells good.”
That he does. I lick my lips, he tastes good, too. I don’t even know how to describe the taste, but it’s definitely lickable.
“You okay spending time at his apartment tonight?” I ask, getting further away from why people give the man a wide berth.
“As long as I can play with Tux.”
“Did Trick agree you could rename him?”
She looks up from her book, smiles at me, and I swear to God she looks like a teenager for a split second. “Nope, but he will.”
“If he says no, we have to go by what he asks. You understand that right?”
“I know, but he’s not going to stay no. Even he knows his name for his cat sucks.”
I can’t help it, I laugh, and I hope to God Trick realizes what he’s getting into with a single mom and an opinionated little girl. As I’m trying to hold back another laugh, I do the responsible, parent thing. “You shouldn’t say sucks, Riles. It’s not a nice word.”
Under my breath though? I add an I agree.
Trick
“I have a little bit of work I need to finish. It shouldn’t take me any longer than you cooking,” I tell Hadley when we get back to the apartment. “The guy is picking his bike up tomorrow,” the tone of my voice is apologetic, and I hate I have to do this to her, but spending all the time with her yesterday cut into my work day.
“That’s cool,” she doesn’t even seem pissed. “This’ll take about an hour from start to finish. We can eat, carve pumpkins, and then head on home.”
“Or you can stay and watch a movie,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I want to convince her to stay. Having her here last night was the highlight of my week. Hell
, the highlight of my month, maybe even my year.
“Sounds good to me,” she looks over at Riley. “What do you say?”
“As long as I get to play with Tux, I don’t care.”
We both laugh. Decisions are so easy when you’re six years old. “Then I guess we’re staying,” she answers, washing her hands in the sink.
“Alright, I’m gonna go get what I need to get done, done. I’ll be back up in about an hour. If it’s done before then, just text me.”
“Trick!” I hear Riley yell out, holding Tux in her arms.
“Riley!” I answer.
“Can me and Tux go with you?”
This kid still wants to spend time with me? I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve it, but I’m so fucking thankful. I never realized how lonely I was until she showed up. “If it’s okay with your mom.”
I glance over at Hadley and see she’s holding back tears; I can tell because her eyes are bright. They’re pooling, and she’s refusing to let those tears fall. “It’s okay with me as long as you change. We brought your stuff, remember?” She points to a bag sitting on the couch.
She grabs the bag and runs to the bathroom.
“Make sure she doesn’t get too dirty,” Hadley warns me. “I didn’t bring more than two pairs of clothes to change into, and I get the feeling you’re angling for us to stay all night.”
“I’m not saying a word that could incriminate me, I learned that already.”
She laughs, throwing her head back and giving into it. I hardly ever see her unguarded like this and I have to join her. The laugh is infectious. “Just be careful and watch her.”
Riley comes out of the bathroom, wearing what are undoubtedly play clothes. “I’ll guard her with my life.”
“C’mon Tux,” she yells to the cat.
“Alfred,” I correct her, winking at Hadley as we leave the apartment and head downstairs.
“What do you have to do?” Riley asks as we enter the garage.
It’s cold in here, especially since the weather’s changed. “You okay?” I go over and turn on the two heaters I use to warm the space.
“It’s cold,” she jumps up and down.
“Let me get you a jacket.”
Mine will be a blanket on her, but it’ll be better than her catching a cold. I go into my office, still amazed I can see a portion of the desk. Grabbing the jacket, I come back out and put it over Riley’s shoulders.
“Give it a few, it’ll warm up in here.”
She follows me, as I go about grabbing all the stuff I need to complete the job I have left to do. When I’m ready, I turn to face her. “You wanna help?”
“I can help?” Her voice is full of wonder that I’d be willing to let her do something like that. It hits me that she probably doesn’t get to help Hadley that often. Hell, what Hadley does is so precise that if Riley did help, there’d be no way to fix it.
“Sure, Sprite. C’mon, let’s get this done.”
It’s easy to do things with her because she’s such a voracious learner. “Turn it to the left,” I let her think she’s turning the wrench, but I put quite a bit of elbow grease into it myself.
“I did it,” she’s smiling up at me, and I know right then I’ll do anything to see that smile again. It doesn’t matter that this kid isn’t mine, she’s taken a part of my heart. One I’m not going to be able to get back easily. Nor do I think I want to.
“You did, Sprite, you sure did.”
22
Hadley
The door to the apartment opens and in spills Trick, the cat, and Riley.
“Damn, it smells good in here,” Trick moans as he herds Riley towards the bathroom. “Is it almost done?”
“Just have to get the tortillas out of the oven, then it’ll be ready. Y’all have perfect timing.”
“We need to wash our hands, and then we’ll be ready to eat, right Riley?”
“I’ve got a man-size hunger,” she tells me, rubbing her stomach.
“He worked you hard huh?” I hear the timer go off, signaling my tortillas are done.
“She earned her keep today,” Trick grins. “But right now I feel like I could eat all those tacos on my own. Let’s go get cleaned up, Sprite.”
The way she follows him, doesn’t question what he says to her, and the way she looks up to him fills me with pride. She’s such a good kid, and all she’s ever wanted is someone to love her. That’s all either of us have ever wanted. I dread what’s going to happen when we run out of hours, and we don’t have Trick anymore.
Unexpected emotion clogs my throat, and I tell myself to dry it the fuck up. Crying’s never helped with anything, and there’s no reason for me to be crying over something that hasn’t happened yet.
They’re making noise in the bathroom, and I smile as I hear Riley.
“I can’t reach it.”
“Can you reach it now?”
He’s probably lifted her up, doing the things her dad should be doing with her.
“Do you like tacos, Trick?” she says as she runs to the kitchen and sits in the seat she claims as her own.
“I love tacos,” he appears in the kitchen, rubbing his stomach. “I can probably eat every bit of what your mom’s made for all of us.”
“Today must be a special day,” she observes, watching as the two of us have a seat.
“Why do you say that?” Maybe she thinks because she went to the pumpkin patch and now we’re having dinner with Trick that it’s a special occasion.
“It’s not Tuesday, and usually tacos are on Tuesday.”
Her logic is not flawed and I laugh so hard I snort.
“You’re cute,” Trick laughs too as he looks at me.
“That was not cute at all. If you still like me after I snort at you, then you’re deluded,” I finish chuckling as I help Riley get her food on her plate.
He’s watching me with those serious eyes again. The ones that make me want to give anything he asks for. “Everything about you is cute, get used to it, babe.”
My mouth goes dry. He used an endearment. For me. I haven’t been called anything other than Hadley or Mom in a very long time. It’s odd hearing it come from anyone, but coming from him? It makes my heart speed up. I’m embarrassed and don’t know how to respond. Instead I close my mouth, quirk it to the side, and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Can you pass the lettuce?”
“Learn to take a compliment,” he hands me the plate of lettuce I just asked for.
“I’ll do my best,” and that’s all I can promise because I haven’t had them for so long.
“I’ll keep giving them to you, until you’re used to it.”
Somehow I don’t think I’ll ever be used to it.
We’re camped out in the living room watching the Charlie Brown Halloween movie, all full, and worn out from dinner and carving pumpkins. Those pumpkins now sit proudly on Trick’s stairs, and I’ve had to promise Riley we’ll come back and look at them every couple of days until Halloween. We didn’t make it outside to do S’mores, we’re all wiped.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Trick’s voice is deep, lazy, and amazingly sexy.
He and I are on the couch, and somehow I’m lying against his chest, our legs entwined as we share a blanket. It’s not how we started, but it’s how we’ve ended up. Riley is sitting in the only other chair in the living area, Tux on her lap engrossed in the TV show.
“These flowers,” I pull up the website I’ve been perusing. “I love them, and I’m waiting for some to go on sale.”
“What’s so special about them?” He asks as he glances at the pictures on my phone. “Other than the fact they are damn expensive.”
I roll my eyes and flash him a look over my shoulder. “They aren’t normal flowers obviously. They never die. They’re made out of cloth and recycled materials. I try to buy them wholesale and use them when I can in designs. Plus, I kind of like the bouquets. Something about them never wilting up and dying appeals to me. It’s lik
e a memory that can live forever, every time you look at them. They aren’t pressed in some memory book; they can be on display all the time.”
“That’s cool,” he takes my phone from my hands, scrolling through the ones I’ve marked.
“It’s stupid, I know,” I give him a shrug. “But it’s the memory attached to it that appeals to me more than anything. I have some a friend got me when the divorce was final. It was the first time I’d ever seen anything like them, but since then they’ve been a memory for me to look back on. I’m not saying it’s a great memory, but it’s a life-changing one. I want to remind myself never to go back where I was.”
“Less permanent than a tattoo huh?”
“Dear Jesus, like it would matter to you.”
He grabs my hand where I’m poking him in the chest. “All my tattoos matter to me. Every single one of them tells a story, they all make up who I am,” he explains. “There’s not one that doesn’t have a memory to go along with it. I sure as fuck don’t go to a tattoo artist with some trendy ass Chinese lettering that I don’t even understand.”
He seems offended by the notion, almost as if it’s personal. “Someone you know has done that?”
“You could say that. Some dumbass kid who doesn’t know what the world is yet, and now he’s got some symbols on his arm that probably mean eat shit and die.”
I can’t help it, I laugh. He’s so thoroughly disgusted.
“Sure laugh now, but if we don’t teach this one respect when it comes to tattoos, she’s gonna come home at eighteen with a tramp stamp in the middle of her back,” he points to Riley. “The only thing a tramp stamp is good for is a focal point when a dude does a woman from behind. I mean, we’ve gotta teach them young.”
“I don’t know whether to be offended that you just talked about my six-year-old and a guy doing a woman from behind in the same sentence, or if I’m amazed because you’re making plans to have us in your life that long.”
The words are out before I can stop them, before I can tell myself to wait five minutes and give him a chance to take them back. Now I’ve probably backed him into a corner he never wanted to be in.
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