by Misti Murphy
Her hand stiffens, and she blinks owlishly in the narrow sliver of light from beyond the door. Squeezing her long, delicate fingers, I tug her back toward us and try to communicate telepathically something I have no idea how to put into words. Especially when I still haven’t apologized to her. I’ll work it out. I’ll make it up to her. Right now, I just want her to stay with me. With us.
Abby snuggles into my shoulder, finally peaceful as Erin drops back down on her side. I can feel her gaze glued to me in the dark, her palm stuck to mine as she slides her fingers between mine.
This should be wrong. This sensation that flutters in my chest as the three of us share a bed is foreign. I’ve never shared my bed with anyone. Never fucked in it or slept in it with anyone. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d be sharing my daughter’s bed with another adult. Maybe a live goat, perhaps a dog or a duck, but not a human being who makes me miss her when she hasn’t even gone anywhere.
We lay there in the dark for ages while Abby sleeps, and I soak up the sweetness of holding Erin’s hand. Immerse myself in the strange rightness of it as the hours tick by while all around us, the darkness turns to blue and then gray. She lays with her head on her elbow, her eyes wide open. Stroking my thumb along the outside of her hand, I turn my head in the direction of the door. “We should talk.”
Erin gets up first, adjusting her T-shirt that’s fallen down one arm during the night as she pads out across the room. I shift Abby into the middle of the bed and cover her up with the crumpled blankets.
Erin is waiting in the hall, her brow slightly ruffled and her lip tucked between her teeth as she pulls her hair into a loose bun and fixes it with the hairband from around her wrist. “I just couldn’t bear leaving her to cry on her own. I didn’t know you were awake too.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if Abby weren’t crying.” A red, indented line marks her skin, and I want to lift it to my mouth and kiss it. I want to lift her up and kiss her. I don’t want to talk about last night. At least not yet, not until I come to grips with whether it means something. Gripping her elbow, I march toward the kitchen. “Coffee? We should do this with coffee.”
It takes just three minutes until Erin is standing on one side of the counter, her hands wrapped around a coffee cup. I’m on the other side, half perched on a stool and wishing I had put a shirt on with my sweats, sipping from my own mug. The air’s only slightly chilly this morning, but it feels cooler between us. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“Sorry?” She looks up from studying the coffee in her hand.
“At the tournament. I gave in to my knee-jerk reaction over Abby’s mother, and that pain-in-the-ass journo.” I clear my throat and force the rest out. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“I didn’t know her mother was going to be there.” Erin puts her cup down. “I really wouldn’t have taken her into the clubhouse if I had known. I wouldn’t do anything to upset that little girl. Or to jeopardize your relationship with her. That you didn’t know that—”
“I know that,” I say, dropping my gaze to the counter space between us and rubbing my forehead. “I do know that, but she’s my life. That woman just gave her away, and I am grateful that she had the presence of mind to hand her over to me, but what if the courts force me to give her back? What if Morgan goes on a bender while she has Abby, and my little girl has to fend for herself? I can’t let that happen.”
“And it won’t,” Erin insists. “You’re Abby’s father. You have full custody. It’s up to you whether you’re willing to let her mum have a place in her life.”
I shake off the sensation of ants crawling on my skin that I get when I think about custody and lawyers. Erin’s reasoning soothes some of the worry away, enough that I can focus on her. “Sorry, that isn’t the conversation I wanted to have right now. You and I. We’ve gotten close.”
“Well, we were sleeping together.”
“Perhaps a tad too close?” It feels more complicated than just the connection of two bodies in an entirely pleasurable activity.
“It’s just sex,” Erin says with a shrug. “I know that. You know that.”
I’m not sure I do. “Yeah, well, it feels to me like you’re in my corner. When Abby told me about her mother, you were the first person I wanted to share my fear with.”
“So you yelled at me?”
“Because I’m a jerk.”
“And a bit of an idiot.” I’m pretty sure she enjoys telling me so after my actions. “We were surrounded by people who live for the kind of gossip you were willing to throw at them.”
“Yeah, I know.” I grimace and rub a hand over my jaw. “But the only person in front of me right then was you. Not my fans. Not my rival. Not my damn sponsors. And I should care about that, damn it.” Jumping up, I stalk the length of the counter to get to her. I should care about that more than I care about her. Erin’s right, this is just sex. A fling. I’m not the monogamous type. I don’t go in for commitment, except to my daughter and my game. Certainly not for a woman I employ to watch my daughter. So why does Erin trump everything but Abby?
“I want you. I miss you.”
“I’ve been right here.” Confusion colors her voice.
“No.” I wind an arm around her waist and lift her up. “I mean I miss touching you, kissing you, being inside you. You’re here but you’re not, and that’s my fault.”
Her legs go around my hips, her heel digging into the back of my thigh as she meets my gaze. “I thought it would be best if I stayed out of your business. You were pretty damn clear that it’s not my place to get involved.”
She chews her bottom lip, and I want to stop her so I can pay it some proper attention. “I think we might be past the point of not getting involved, don’t you?”
“Garrett, I know this isn’t—”
“Normal for me? No, Red, it’s not.” I carry her out of the kitchen, past her bedroom toward my own.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, slapping my shoulder blade. “Put me down.”
“No.” I grin for the first time this week. “I have no intention of putting you down until I’m damn well ready to.”
“The sun’s up. Abby won’t be far behind it.”
“We both know Abby won’t be up for at least another half hour.” I push open the door to the bedroom and carry Erin inside before tossing her down on the covers and climbing over her. I hike up her sexy T-shirt and get a hold of the waist of her pajama shorts and the elastic of her panties. “So let’s kiss and make up.”
Her breath catches in her chest as she peers up at me. Plump lips fall open when she nods, and she lifts her ass and shimmies out of the shorts so I can whip them down her legs. Then she curls up to kiss me. “Hurry.”
Yanking her shirt up over her head, I toss it aside and kiss her hard. Tangling my hand in her hair, I nip and suck at her lips and thrust my tongue into her mouth. She tastes bitter, like the coffee, and so sweet at the same time, and she kisses me back just as forcefully while she shoves at my pants.
Letting her go, I roll onto my back to strip out of my sweats. She straddles my legs the moment I’m naked, her pussy hot and wet with arousal against my thigh. Her fingers play with one of my nipples while she covers my chest and my abs with soft kisses. “This isn’t quite what I had in mind when I said kiss and make up.”
“It isn’t?” She glances at me and it is everything. Her perfect tits graze the length of my dick. I was hard the moment I woke—morning wood is par for the course and all that—but she makes me rock hard and desperate, like I might explode if her face gets any closer to my erection. And then she licks her lips and her breath rushes over the head of my cock as she bows over me. Her tongue is so close and then she sweeps it out and licks up a drop of pre-cum that’s leaking from the crown.
“Damn,” I whisper with that first contact.
Her head bobs up and down as she sucks me into her mouth, her lips scraping up and down my length while her tongue
flattens around the underside. I reach out and touch her cheek. Fuck, this moment, with her on my bed and my cock in her mouth, is a whole other ballgame. I get close quick. Too close.
“What are you trying to do to me, Red?” Gritting my teeth, I surge up to grab her around the waist and pull her onto my lap. I stroke her thigh and touch her clit and watch her eyes close as she whimpers. “I thought we were making up, not making me owe you a sexual do-over. I want inside here, want to make us both feel good.”
She rocks her pelvis to get more contact between us. “Yes.”
It’s a breathy, needy yes, not particularly an answer to a question I didn’t ask. We both gave up weeks ago on the pretense that we wouldn’t fuck. Kissing her, I reach out for the bedside table, open the drawer, and feel around blindly for the bulk pack of condoms I know are in there. Socks, jocks. My spare Audemars Piguet watch, still in its box. I glance at the drawer out of the side of my eye while Erin holds her hands around our mouths. Three loose golf balls and something that feels suspiciously like a plastic farm animal. Where the fuck are they?
“Garrett?” Erin’s rolling her hips, grinding on my erection, and moaning in my ear.
The drawer topples off its runners and scatters its contents on the floor. We used the ones in the suitcase. And if there’s none in the drawer… Holy shit. “We’re out of condoms.”
“No, we can’t be.” Erin groans. Hell, she’s not the only one who’s disappointed. And we’re running out of time. “You don’t think ... no, he wouldn’t have.”
“Who wouldn’t have?” I ask, adjusting her position on my lap to ease some of the pressure to pull her onto my cock and to hell with the idea of safe sex.
“You don’t want to know.” She shakes her head and reaches for my cock again, taking it in her hand and stroking me over and over.
I almost don’t register that her pain-in-the-ass best friend has been in my room and filched my fucking condom stash. I’m not sure I care, because she takes my balls in her hand and rubs them gently with her fingers while she tugs on my cock, getting me close again. Jesus, I want more. Pushing her onto her back I get between her legs, her wet heat so fucking tempting. “Work around it?”
“Pill.” She grips my shoulders, pulls one leg up between us and onto my shoulder. “On it.”
“Well, fuck.” I hammer into her, and she rolls her hips to my thrusts, taking me in, taking me deeper. Her tits bounce as she jumps up the bed with each hard fuck that gets us closer. And I can’t wait, so I reach between us and strum her clit until she’s squirming and thrashing. Her inner walls contract around me while her sweat-dampened calf slips off my shoulder.
Every muscle in my body bunches up and releases as the tension in my balls explodes up my shaft.
“Da-a-d,” Abby calls outside the door. “Uncle Callum’s here. He says you’re as naughty as a horny old goat.”
“Oh shit.” Too late.
“Crap.” Erin freezes and then she scrambles away from me, her eyes huge above the hand she clamps over her mouth, and my cock lands with a wet splat against my thigh. “Oh crap.”
“Don’t come in, sweet pea.” I jump off the bed and start tugging on my sweats and a T-shirt. “Why don’t you go find Erin, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Okay. Uncle Callum said he’s going to make you better coffee to go with your newspapers.”
“Newspapers?” I mouth at Erin who simply shrugs and then motions at my torso.
“That’s mine,” she whispers.
I glance down at the blue-and-white striped shirt hugging my chest. “Shit, sorry.”
Pulling it over my head, I throw it to her before marching into my closet and picking one of my own. When I come back she’s dressed and tucking her hair behind her ear. “What are we going to do? How do you want to do this?”
Callum’s in my apartment and Abby practically caught us. And what the fuck was I thinking? Having her in my bed? Having her skin on skin? “I really don’t want to do this at all, but I’ll go out first. Wait a few minutes before you join us, okay?”
She winces, clasping her elbow with one hand and touching the other hand to her ear while I turn around and stalk out of the room, making sure the door closes behind me.
Callum’s taking up most of the kitchen island surface with newspapers while he swigs coffee from a mug. Reaching for the coffeepot he’s planted on top of a thick swath of papers, he pours more into his cup and then on the surrounding news articles.
“What the heck is going on, Cal?” I grab my cup from earlier and pour my own refill. “And where’d Abby get to?”
“She’s, uh, playing with the goat I bought her.”
From somewhere in the apartment I hear an unmistakable bleat. “No.” I start in the direction of the sound. “Tell me that isn’t a real one. I told you there was absolutely no—”
He raises a hand but not his head. “It’s not real. It’s one of those ones with real sounds.”
“Thank God.” I exhale. That was a lucky escape. This whole morning has been one lucky escape after another.
“Baa.”
Erin traipses into the room with Abby on her hip, another plush goat with extra long legs dangling from the crook of her arm. Erin’s changed into her usual uniform of skinny jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair’s been smoothed out with a brush and pulled into a ponytail. “Good morning, Callum. Have you had breakfast? We’re making French toast.”
“Erin said I can help crack the eggs,” Abby says.
“Come on. Let’s get you set up.” Erin jostles Abby and treads around me, her gaze hitting the floor instead of meeting mine. “I bet you’re starving.”
“So how about it, Callum? Toast?”
“Yeah.” He yanks at his tie and undoes the top button on his shirt.
Normally, that’s a move he keeps for later in the day when he’s had enough of the crazy that comes with managing big sporting careers. The fact he’s doing it in my kitchen while guzzling my coffee at seven in the morning is a bit concerning. “What’s going on, Callum?”
“Look.” He waves his hands at the expanse of black and white in front of him and then lifts his phone to my nose. A video of me and Erin on the course last week is playing. On YouTube. And the amount of people watching me dressing down my nanny is climbing by the second. “Oh shit.”
“Little ears,” Erin says.
“You need to see this too,” Callum says to Erin. Then he picks up one of the articles in front of him and waves it in her face.
“Oh.” She gasps and puts her hand to her mouth. Her gaze scans the words as I hand Callum’s phone back to him and move to her side where she motions at the line at the beginning of the article. “Look whose byline.”
Fiona fucking Davenport. I snatch the article from her hand. “Christ.”
She picks up another one. “Oh no.”
I reach for the pile of documents, but Callum shakes his head. “Don’t bother. They’re all the same or a variation of. Fiona Davenport’s on a mission to screw you just as hard as you’re apparently screwing each other.”
“Why did it take a week?” Erin looks up from the paper in her hands. She’s so pale her freckles stand out in stark contrast against her skin.
“Timing is everything,” Callum says. “Your sponsors were starting to settle down; they were impressed with the turnaround. Now they’re calling me. I’ve had to divert my phone through to the office until we’ve worked out the best way to handle it. Your daughter garners you sympathy, but she also makes you look like a dog for diddling the nanny.”
“What’s did?” Abby pipes up, screwing up her face as she tries again. It’s only a matter of time before she can say it with perfect enunciation. “Diddley. Didd—”
“It’s from that song.” I scoop her up in my arms and carry her out of the kitchen. “The one about the cat and the fiddle, and the cow and the moon.”
“That’s a baby song.” Abby sticks out her tongue. “Erin lets me listen to Ed Sh
eeran.”
“Okay.” I set her down when we get to her room. “Erin and I have to have a meeting with Uncle Callum for a few minutes. If you play quietly in your room until we’re done, I’ll play you as much Ed Sheeran as you want while we eat breakfast.”
She nods and climbs onto her bed amidst some of the stuffed animals that have made it back onto the comforter while Erin and I were distracted. “I need to introduce Spotty to Spot Junior.”
Erin and Callum are standing side by side when I re-enter the kitchen.
“I can’t believe she would do this to him. It’s so unfair. He’s a great father and a great golfer.”
“And he happens to have a great track record when it comes to fucking up with women in an inappropriate manner.”
“Careful,” I warn Callum.
“You should have told me,” he says. “One of you should have warned me that you were sleeping together so I could have been on top of this.” Slumping against the counter, he shoves one hand in his pocket and ruffles his hair into a crest. “I knew you were going to fuck. Anyone with eyes could see that. I just thought it would be over as quickly as the rest. You should have warned me it was more than that.”
It isn’t. It’s nothing more. It’s just that it’s easy and Erin’s available and in my house and keeping me out of trouble. I want to tell myself that, but I don’t believe it.
“It’s not. We’re not anything,” Erin says.
“Unfortunately, that’s not true,” Callum says.
“But it is,” she insists, and it makes my chest ache that she’s so adamant.
“Sorry, Erin, but you’re the nanny who looks after his kid.” He turns to me. “And you’re the asshole who’s fucking his employee. That’s what people will see. That and the poor little girl who’s stuck in the middle.”
“My daughter is fine. I’m a good father,” I growl between my teeth. I wish I could tell Callum exactly where he could shove his opinion. I wish I could tell the whole world what they could do with their views on Erin and I. But if there’s any hope for my flailing career, it’s him.