The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs Book 2)

by Kate Stewart

  Dante’s lip quivers. “Uh huh.”

  “Is that why you like Michigan J. Frog so much? Because you’re just like him?”

  Another nod. I wrack my brain, trying to figure out a way to make my mistake up to him when I see my packed duffle in the back seat.

  “What do you think about hanging with me this weekend. Just us?”

  Angela’s Stuffed Bell Peppers

  Lawyer, Ohio

  Makes 6 servings

  1 hour

  6 Large Bell Peppers

  2 Lbs. Hamburger Meat

  1 Onion – Chopped

  1 Tsp. Salt

  1 Tsp. Pepper

  1 Can Stewed Tomatoes

  1 8 Oz. Can Tomato Sauce

  1 Cup Uncooked Rice

  1 Cup Water

  8 Oz. Grated Cheese

  Cut top off bell peppers. Scrape seeds out and rinse with water. Place peppers in large pan and completely cover with water. Boil for 5 minutes. Drain and set aside.

  Brown hamburger, onion, salt, and pepper. Add stewed tomatoes, tomato sauce, rice and water. Bring to boil. Lower heat and simmer for 15 minutes. Stir in grated cheese. Stuff hamburger mixture into peppers. Top with cheese.

  Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes.

  Clarissa

  “Mommy, wake up, sleepyhead.”

  Dante’s voice jerks me out of a dream. Dante?

  Stunned at his sudden appearance, I pull my sheet up to my neck, darting my gaze around the bed. “W-what are you doing here?”

  I feel around on the mattress for my Womanizer and begin to panic when it’s not beneath the sheet where I left it.

  My panic escalates when behind my son, I see a set of electric blue eyes.

  Please, God, get me out of this.

  But you probably shouldn’t ask God for a solid when you’ve been caught with your hand in your pants.

  “We got home last night.”

  “Huh?” I fumble beneath my bedspread, trying to subtly search for the evidence. “I n-need to get dressed. Some privacy, please.”

  “What’s wrong?” Troy asks. “You look a little pale. Didn’t you sleep well?” His feigned innocence has me on high alert.

  “Mommy, we have something very important to ask you.”

  Managing to find my voice, I look over at Dante. “Why aren’t you at the Leightons? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Troy came to pick me up.”

  “What?”

  “He took me to get a slushy, made me brush my teeth, and read me a story. He slept in my room to give you some rest.”

  “You slept here?” I ask, sinking further into the bed, my hand still searching and coming up empty.

  “Missing something?” Troy asks, his smirk now a full-on grin.

  “What’s wrong with your hair?” Dante asks, tilting his head.

  “Ah, yeah,” Troy adds, “it does look a little bunched in the back, doesn’t it?” You know that moment in Forrest Gump where Forrest and little Forrest both tilt their heads while watching TV and Jenny finds it endearing? This is NOT that moment.

  “Get out! Get out both of you. I’ll talk to you in a minute.”

  “It’s okay, Mommy,” Troy snickers, “It’s perfectly healthy to want some me time.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Go.”

  “But we need to ask you a question,” Dante whines.

  “Give me a minute, son, to p-put on some clothes.” And find my sex toy. “Go on.”

  Troy ushers him out of the room but not before mouthing the words “top drawer.”

  I waste no time racing to my dresser and seeing that the toy was strategically hidden beneath my underwear.

  He knows I used it.

  He knows I used it!

  Then it hits me. The review! Praying I didn’t post it, I scramble to my laptop and see not only is it published, but there are seventeen comments. The last one made by an unmistakable culprit.

  Pleasure-Ranger12

  Did it ever occur to any of you that it’s not the womanizer’s fault he’s got such a bad rep? That the title was slapped on him because of his performance alone and not the totality of his makeup? What if the womanizer has the best of intentions for his future model and thinks the less risky model is a douche who can’t give the woman what she needs? Contrary to popular belief, not all models are made the same. Take a chance, goodconsumer90.

  Covering my mouth with my hand, I read the comment over and over. Troy not only knows I masturbated, but that I then debated with trolls on the internet about my attraction to him.

  I want to slice open my mattress and crawl inside.

  It’s worse than being picture of the week in the People of Walmart.

  Standing in a scalding shower, I bury my face in my hands as R&B drifts through the house, and I hear the rustling of pans.

  How can I face him?

  And why is Dante here? The woman in me is mortified, but the mother in me overrules as I quickly towel off to see why Dante came home early.

  Avoiding Troy’s eyes, I pour some juice for Dante while Troy whisks some eggs.

  “Okay, what happened?”

  “They were mean to me, so Troy came and picked me up.”

  I pull him to stand in front of me, kneeling down, my heart breaking.

  “They were mean to you, baby?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t care because I’m going to find some friends who get me. I have to find my tribe.”

  I look over to Troy, who smiles down at Dante.

  “That’s…good advice.”

  “Troy wants to take me someplace special and spend the night. Is that okay?”

  I look over to Troy and see he’s watching me carefully as he cracks another egg.

  “Yes. I guess that would be fine. But after breakfast. How about pancakes?”

  “Troy’s making French toast.”

  “But your favorite is pancakes.”

  “Nothing wrong with French toast,” Troy taunts. “Some people would say it’s a better breakfast model.”

  “Pancakes are just as delicious,” I argue.

  “I disagree.” He bites his lips as he flips a piece of toast in the pan.

  “Are you really going to do this?” I ask him, standing, as Dante takes his seat.

  Troy turns to me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don’t we let Dante decide?”

  “Don’t bring him into this, you weirdo.”

  “Weird is good,” Dante speaks up in his defense. “Weirdo means you won’t ever be boring.”

  This he’s just learned, no doubt from the man whose mouth is lifting at the stove.

  “Yes, it is, I was paying your fa-” Troy’s eyes widen, and his smile blinds me. I’m so flustered I’ve almost outed him myself.

  “It was a compliment.”

  Dante tilts his head. “Are you okay, Mommy?”

  “I’m fine, I would just prefer pancakes!”

  “Not what I read,” Troy mumbles.

  I can feel the blush creep up my neck. I’ve hit my limit. “Troy, a word.”

  “Sorry,” he holds up the spatula, “I’m mid flip, don’t want to burn anything.”

  I nod and swallow as two sets of eyes study me.

  Get it together. Get it together.

  “Mommy, you need a chill pill,” Dante says through a laugh.

  “Where did you learn that?” I look up to Troy, who shrugs.

  “Don’t look at me.”

  “We don’t take pills to chill around here, young man. You got that?!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Troy ushers me into the seat next to him. “Have a seat,” he says, gently sitting me down. “I’ll make you some breakfast too.”

  It’s clear both men think I’m on the verge of snapping, so I do what I’m told as Dante places a napkin across my lap. “It’s okay, Mommy, just relax.”

  Dante stands on his seat, grabbing the carton and pours me some orange juice. After taking a sip, I glance over at him as Troy busies himsel
f at the stove.

  “I’m sorry you had a bad time.”

  “It’s okay. Troy made it all better.”

  I don’t miss Troy’s smile as he plates up our breakfast.

  Dante crosses his silverware on his plate. “May I be excused? I’m full.”

  “Only one game,” Troy says, “We’re leaving soon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I sip my coffee and eye Troy. “Where will you take him?”

  “Camping at the lake. That okay?”

  “Sure.”

  With all the commotion this morning, I didn’t have time to drink him in. He’s dressed in a grey long john shirt that hugs his every muscle and somehow makes his eyes pop. His strawberry hair is getting longer, has more wave, and is brushed away from his face. His jaw covered in day-old stubble. He looks every part the rugged man. And I’m pretty sure I look every part the ragged woman. But none of that matters as I fight with my conscience about the events of the last twenty-four hours.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you need to stop,” Troy says, crumpling up his napkin and throwing it on his plate.

  “I can’t help it. I drink one glass of wine,” I wince, “okay three, and decide to unplug, and he needed me. What if you weren’t here?”

  “Don’t. I was here, and I’m so damned happy about that fact, so let me have my moment, okay?”

  I nod, and he leans over and tips my chin, so I’m facing him.

  “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up about it.”

  “It was past eight, so I thought it was safe to relax.”

  “You don’t have to explain it to me, Clarissa. I know you would never, ever, put him in harm’s way.”

  “But I did. I knew those kids weren’t his friends, but I wanted so much for him to fit in somewhere. I’m a fucking high school teacher, I know how cruel kids can be. What was I thinking?”

  “I was thinking the same. I’ve noticed he doesn’t invite friends over or get invited either. I was hoping for what you were. I’m just as guilty. But he’s special, too sensitive for those brutes. He’s got quirks, he’s different, and that’s okay. It’s more than okay.”

  “How about the lining up of his toys,” I grin. “How they have to be just so. And the way he gets possessive about the weirdest stuff.”

  “He’s a neat freak for sure.”

  “Hey, don’t you dare touch that.”

  We smile at each other.

  “When he was just a baby, he was addicted to Animusic. He played those videos over and over and over again, and it took me a while to realize he was memorizing them. He was almost two the first time he climbed up to my PC and started using a mouse. He could barely talk in sentences then.”

  “He’s scary smart.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Troy shrugs. “Let him be him. Exactly what we’ve been doing.”

  “They won’t understand him,” I say fearfully.

  “Someone will,” he says intently. “Someday, maybe sooner, maybe later, someone is going to stop and take notice of how special he is and stake their claim in his life. Trust me. It’ll happen more than once.”

  I sniff. “When did you get so good at saying the perfect thing?”

  “I’m a practicing father. Was that all right?”

  “Better than.”

  A tear runs down my cheek, and he moves to sit next to me, studying it.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as he leans in.

  “It’s beautiful, you know,” he says, lifting it away with his thumb. “It’s a mother’s love.”

  We’re so close. If just one of us gives, our lips will touch. Troy lingers as I inhale his scent, his masculinity. In seconds, I get lost in his stare, the fullness of his lips, the weight and gravity of our connection. This can’t happen.

  “Excuse me,” I say, lifting only to bang my knee on the table. Troy curses under his breath as Dante returns from the living room. “Where are you going?” He asks as I move to retreat to my bedroom.

  “To get dressed.” And scream in a pillow.

  Sarah Jane’s Seven Layer Dip

  Personal Assistant, Los Angeles

  Makes 12 servings

  1 hour

  2 8 Oz. Packages Guacamole (Add garlic powder and salt to taste)

  1 Cup Sour Cream

  1/2 Cup Mayonnaise

  2 9 Oz. Cans Bean Dip

  1 Bunch Green Onions – Sliced

  3 Tomatoes – Chopped

  1 8 Oz. Can Sliced Black Olives (Optional)

  1 8 Oz. Package Sharp Cheddar Cheese – Shredded

  1 Jar Picante Sauce

  Combine sour cream and mayonnaise together. Spread bean dip in 13x9 pan. Top with guacamole. Layer sour cream mixture next. Sprinkle with green onions, tomatoes, and olives. Cover with cheese and top with Picante sauce.

  Serve with tortilla chips.

  Clarissa

  I’m sitting at my vanity as the boys get ready to head out. I’m still stunned by Troy’s words. They ring true. He knows his son. He’s caught onto his quirks, memorized his routine, and I can’t help but wonder how much of a mirror he thinks Dante is. I was an absolute mess at breakfast, ashamed and devastated, and somehow Troy managed to pull me from that place and make it…better. I decide to make it a point to thank him before they leave. And it’s the leaving I’m wrestling with, though I know Troy would never let any harm come to Dante. I bat away any notion that I’m jealous as I apply my lip balm.

  Am I jealous?

  The truth is, Troy wouldn’t take him without my permission, and I find myself at odds that he does have it, fully. I can trust him with his son.

  I’m still spinning in that revelation when I see Troy in the mirror, shutting my bedroom door, his eyes trained on me as he twists the lock.

  All words catch in my throat when I see the intensity in his gaze. He stalks toward me, stopping just behind me as I sit in wait.

  He lifts a hand and gently runs his fingers through my wet strands, pulling my head back slightly before gathering the hair at the nape of my neck. I draw my brows in confusion as he reaches for one of the hair ties next to my brush and secures it around his fistful of my hair. I’m just about to speak when he leans down, and his warm lips connect with the slope of my neck. His open-mouthed kiss is gentle, sensual, and I feel myself lean into it. Slowly his lips roam up and down my collarbone, up and down, covering the length of my shoulder. Mouth parted, I watch his eyes close as he begins to deepen his kiss, adding the slide of his tongue, before pulling at my sweater and exposing my shoulder.

  Stunned, I watch his assault alternating between licks and bites while his warm hands wipe away the wetness of his kiss. Panting, I can do nothing but watch while he leads, his fist in my hair as his lips do all the talking. It’s when he hears my moan that he begins to quicken his pace. Every touch precise, purposeful. He licks the shell of my ear before drawing the whole of my lobe into his mouth, biting, sucking as he cups my breast, lifting, molding, in worship. Nothing is off-limits as he blankets the whole of me with his touch. I’m on fire, wetness pools in my panties, my heartbeat pulsing between my thighs. I gasp as he tugs on my ponytail and my head lolls to the side as he makes quick work of covering the entirety of my neck with the same intensity of his lips. I’m moaning uncontrollably now as he encompasses me with his hands, still cupping my breasts, mouth roaming, moving to the front of my neck, tracing the divot in my throat with precise flicks of his tongue. I’m on the verge of an orgasm when he tweaks my nipple, my gasp caught by the side of his mouth as he licks playfully around my lips and pulls away, just as I lean in for more. And then he’s making a slow descent down my back, his hand gliding down the front of me. My leggings are no match for his deft fingers as he presses a thick digit exactly where I need him.

  Gasping, I clutch what I can, but he’s still fast at work, covering me wholly in his kiss, momentum building as my chest heaves. Getting a grip on his shirt, I twist it in my hands, unable to see
anything but the lust in his eyes as he pulls away, his stare piercing. I open fully for him, spreading my legs, granting him more access. He runs his finger up and down my center, massaging my clit, as my heart hammers out of control, I’m seconds away from begging for his kiss when his lips drift back up to my throat, I turn my head and we meet, open-mouthed as he thrusts his tongue in deep, kissing me to within an inch of my life.

  And with one more flick of his finger, I come, and he dives while my sporadic breaths pump into his mouth. I’m thoroughly seduced, completely intoxicated as he keeps his pace, his hands working their way back up, his lips and tongue still roaming the whole of my face, chest, and neck. I’ve never in my life felt so worshiped, so intoxicated by a man’s touch. I’ve never, ever, been kissed like this. When his lips finally return to mine, I grip him to me, twisting in my seat and kiss him back with everything in me. I’m rewarded with the tangle of our tongues as he thrusts so deeply, I drown. Slowly, he pulls away, staring down at me with so much heat and longing, it steals what’s left of my breath.

  “Just think about it.”

  Slowly righting my sweater, he places one more open-mouthed kiss on my neck before walking out the door.

  Gabby’s Smothered Pork Chops

  Architect, New Mexico

  Makes 6 servings

  1 hour

  1 Stick Butter

  2 Cups Flour

  2 Cans Cream of Mushroom Soup

  1/2 Cup White Cooking Wine

  1/2 Cup Water

  1 Large Package Fresh Mushrooms

  1-2 Large Onions

  6 Pork Chops

  Melt butter in skillet. Use one cup of flour to flour both sides of the pork chops. Lightly brown both sides of pork chops in butter. Mix soup, wine, water, and one cup of flour. Pour over pork chops. Wash mushrooms, drain, and cut stems off. Cut onion into quarters. Add mushrooms and onions to skillet.

  Cook on low to medium heat until done.