Page 18 of Fake To Forever

“Stay for a drink, boss,” Buck suggests, and as much as a beer sounds good right now, I can’t stop thinking about Oliver.

And I can’t stop thinking about Haven, in my house, in my personal space. The thought heats my blood in a way I can’t ignore.

I just need to go home.

“As tempting as that offer is, I’ve got to get going. My son’s waiting for me at home, and I’m already going to miss dinner and bedtime by the time I get there.”

I say my goodbyes, and of course, it’s late and I’m exhausted when I arrive back at home a little after three in the morning. My shirt is relatively clean since I’d taken it off before I started, but I’m still covered in oil and sweat and don’t want to dirty it further by putting it on. When I walk into the house, Haven and Oliver are on the couch.

He’s asleep on her chest, and she’s snoring softly. Oliver’s mouth is open and his arm hangs over one end of the couch.

My heart seizes in my chest. They look adorable, I must admit.

Haven snorts awake when the door shuts and scrambles up with Oliver in her arms.

“Oh, shit… I mean, shoot,” she says, her eyes widening. Oliver’s still dead asleep. “Let me get him up to bed.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her in a hushed voice. “I really appreciate you taking care of him. Any problems?”

She shakes her head as she adjusts Oliver in her arms. “None at all. He was great. Let me take him upstairs and put him to bed. You look like you could use a shower.”

I glance down at my oil splattered pants and nod. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go wash up quick. If you’d hang out until I’m done, I’d appreciate it.”

“Oh, sure thing,” she murmurs, giving me a once over before quickly turning and heading up the stairs.

I watch her until she disappears from sight on the second floor landing. A heavy breath escapes me as I try to collect my thoughts. How is it that a woman I barely know can completely catch me off guard?

Chapter Seven: Temptation

Haven

“The Lord is testing me,” I say quietly to myself as I stand in the hallway of Chris’ giant house, waiting for him to finish cleaning up.

I have to admit, when I first got here with Oliver, I was stunned by how big the place was, and how nice. Of course, I’m familiar with the two-story farmhouse and the large acreage it sits on, but it’s sat empty for quite some time because few people in the area can afford its upkeep.

Chris must be really smart with money to afford this place, though his salary from the oil company is probably pretty good. Even Garrett makes good money from the rigs. Still, would it be good enough to maintain this place? Especially since he only has his income to work with?

I shake my head, banishing the thoughts away. His finances are none of my business. If he can somehow afford this place, then good for him. It’s a beautiful house, and the acreage seems like it’d be a great place for a kid. There’s so much room to run and play outside.

More than the house and land is Chris himself.

Why am I so tempted by him?

First, he comes home covered in oil and sweat, hair swept back like he stepped out of some blue collar magazine… and shirtless to add! He has to be messing with me.That isn’t normal, is it? To be shirtless like that walking into your home when you know you have a sitter watching your kid.

The weight of the situation sits heavily on me. He’s gorgeous, and sweet—at least as far as I’ve seen. Yet, I can’t tell if that’s just who he is or if he’s tempting me.

Maybe I’m just overthinking things. It wouldn’t be the first time.

As I leave Oliver’s room and make my way down the hallway, Chris’ bedroom door is cracked open a bit. As much as I should continue downstairs, I can’t help the curiosity that fills me. Coming to a stop outside his door, I glance around, half expecting someone to jump out of a shadowed corner to catch me.

Obviously, there’s no one there, at least not since I watched the woman who was cleaning when I arrived here leave, but that was hours ago. Taking a deep breath, I slowly peer into his bedroom. The sound of running water turns my attention to a partial cracked door on the far side of the room. It doesn’t take a genius to realize it’s the bathroom, and while every part of me says I should turn around and leave, I can’t.

My mouth goes dry. This seems a little too careless of him. Did he forget that I was here? Or… is he offering some sort of invitation?

No! I need to shut that train of thought down now. I can’t cross that line with one of my student’s parents. Yet, here I am like a fucking weirdo standing in his bedroom while he’s in the shower.

What the hell am I doing?

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