Page 43 of Forever Mine

Chapter 15

I had everything planned. When we got back to Kingston, I'd leave Scott at his place and head home. Then Angel and I would spend the rest of the day relaxing.

That's not how things went, though. We didn't eat at the beach, but I insisted that we stay hydrated. Scott claimed he wanted a genuine Jamaican experience, so he bought enough food to feed a small army.

On our way home, Angel complained she was hungry. The aroma of fried fish that filled the car contributed to her hunger pangs. Even my mouth was watering.

At that point, Scott looked over his shoulder and changed the script for my Saturday evening.

“It didn't take us long to get to the beach, so I guess we'll be back at your house soon.” He shot me a glance. “Right, Vaughn?”

We were halfway over the causeway so I nodded, but didn't take my eyes off the road. “Another ten minutes and we'll be home. I'll fix you something, sweetie.”

Angel sat forward and gripped the seat. “Can I have some of Uncle Scott's food instead?”

Heat rushed into my neck and face. If my skin was pale, Scott would have seen my reaction to Angel's assumption that we'd be sharing his meal. A couple of seconds went by before I said, “Well, I don't know what—”

“Of course.” Scott said, too fast for my liking. “There's more than enough to share.”

I threw Scott a look meant to shut him up, but he ignored me.

“You like fried fish, Angel?”

“If Mommy takes out the bones.” She tipped her head back and sniffed the air in the car. “It smells good. I hope it tastes nice, too.”

“Me too,” Scott said, turning a smile on her.

Okay then.

I didn't mind spending more time with him, but was concerned about him being in my personal space. There was something intimate about having him inside my home, among my things. Seeing him after hours was the most excitement I’d had in a while, but it didn’t feel all that serious since we spent most of our time in public places.

I'd only gone to the townhouse where he was staying once and we'd fooled around until we were both hot and needy. I'd called a halt to our foreplay because I had to pick up Angel from Mom's house.

Six weeks since meeting Scott, having online contact, and coming face to face again, he had me wanting to do things that were alien to my nature. This man was special. His eyes that seemed all knowing, his air of warmth mixed with a bit of mystery, and his generosity, made a wicked combination. Scott was all kinds of appealing and dangerous.

What made things worse was the way he looked at me, as if I was the only thing on earth he desired. Scott had unresolved issues, but they didn't extend to the way he treated me.

In a few more minutes, we parked in front of my house. I got out of the car and opened the door for Angel. Over the roof, Scott asked, “Want me to get the basket?”

“Yes!” Angel yelled before I said a word. “That's our dinner.”

Scott and I laughed while I picked up our beach bags and opened the front door. Thankfully, we’d rinsed the salt and sand from our bodies at the beach. A shower could come later. To Angel, I said, “Honey, go wash your hands. We're eating now.”

She ran off, and I took the basket from Scott. As I headed for the kitchen nook, I waved him toward the sofa. “Sit wherever you like.”

By the time I spread the food on the table, Angel was back and seated in her spot.

“Uncle Scott, you want to use the bathroom?”

He stood and listened while Angel directed him down the hall.

We were waiting when he returned, looking fresh. He'd retied his hair and washed his face. His tee shirt, shorts, and sandals were a far cry from sexy, but he still appealed to me.

Angel insisted on saying grace and instructed us to close our eyes while she prayed. Scott’s gaze settled on mine and he made a kissing motion.

I pursed my lips to hide my smile, then closed my eyes to avoid interacting with him.

When Angel finished, he responded with a resounding amen before we dug into the fried snapper, bammies—tiny fried triangles made from cassava—and festival, a favorite of Angel's. The deep-fried, golden-brown fingers of cornmeal, flour, and sugar were always a hit with my little girl.

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