Page 51 of When We Met

“I should wake them up. They usually spend the day with Lara Lynn. I was just getting ready to take them over there.”

“Who’s that?”

He shifts his stance and zips his Carhartt jacket I’ve been wearing lately. I hope it smells like me, and I invade his thoughts like he does mine. “My stepmom.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But if you want them….”

Excitement shoots through me, and I can’t help my smile. “I’m actually dying to spend some time with them. They’re so adorable,” I gush, thinking of Camdyn’s mesmerizing dark eyes that mirror her father and Sev’s addictive personality.

He smiles, wide, as if this is hilarious to him, or he’s laughing at me. “Uh-huh. Come talk to me tonight after you’ve spent the day with them.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can handle them?” Bitch, if I can handle models, I can handle children.

“I’m not sure. They can be a handful.” I watch his face, waiting for him to show some apprehension for a relative stranger being alone with his children. But it’s not there. Clearly he’s still small town. “Have you ever watched kids before?”

“No, but I was a personal assistant before I became homeless and jobless. I’m sure I can handle a three-year-old and five-year-old for a day.”

He turns a suspicious eye on me. “Should we put a bet on it?”

“I’m intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

“What I have in mind can’t…” He licks his lips. “I’m not leaving that up to chance. That’s happening.”

I bite my lip. “Oh really?”

He watches me, and then his attention moves when there’s a sound of an engine approaching. “How about this? You don’t have any issues with them; I get to take you dinner.”

“And if I do?”

“I still take you to dinner.”

“That’s not a bet, Barron.”

“I know. Have fun.”

“How about if I don’t have any issues, I let you take me to dinner and show you what my panties look like on your bedroom floor?”

He sighs again, his head tilted and jaw slack. “You do realize I’m going to be gone all day, and once again thinking about your goddamn panties.”

“Yep.”

“Cute.” He closes his eyes, shaking his head with a small smirk as he walks out the door. I want to keep that smirk forever and ever. I want a polaroid of it. A memory I can look back on when he knows the truth.

I know I’m living a lie.

Does it stop me?

Nope.

What if this is fate? What if I ran into that building for a reason? I didn’t know where he lived. So is it so bad that I’m suddenly sleeping on Tara’s husband’s couch?

Yes. Probably.

But damn it, if Cinderella could fit the glass slipper, why can’t I fit myself into their lives?

Taking my journal in my hand, I stare out at the barren frosty land behind his house and the frozen pond beyond that. Bringing the pen to the torn paper edges, I write what I’ve been feeling these last couple of days.

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