Page 84 of Play With Me

Nora’s cheeks go pink.

“Big itchy red marks,” I say, relieved he picked up that word and not the other.

Farrah furrows her brow. “Like the disease?”

I nod. “All over your body!”

Nora looks like she wants to sink down into her seat. “Not really—”

“Oh yeah!” Cap says, his excited voice a little too loud. “Like the chicken pox you got on your butt, Dad!”

Now it’s my turn to heat up as several restaurant patrons turn and stare. I never should have told him that story.

“All right, that’s not dinner table talk, is it?” I whisper.

“You started it,” hums Nora.

“Let’s move on,” I suggest, leaning on my hand in an exaggerated show of embarrassment.

Nora giggles, but Cap takes the lead, talking animatedly about all the cool moves he did today on the hill. They all laugh at me for that one epic wipeout into the snowbank.

I frown. “Are we not going to talk about Nora falling off the ski lift?”

“Excuse me, I didn’t fall. I was knocked over.”

“Literally no difference.”

Cap looks like he’s trying to nobly contain his laughter at the memory. “Sorry, Nora. It was pretty funny because you looked like a starfish when you went down the hill. Then that guy was like, really sorry, but Dad picked you up and the guy kind of just walked away.”

“Maybe he thought you were going to sue him, Cap,” I say.

Cap looks serious. “Should we?”

Now we’re all laughing again.

“Sometimes, people just do silly things, like stand still in front of a moving chair lift,” Nora says. “But maybe you should think about being a lawyer, Cap?”

Cap considers. “Can I be a professional fisherman and a lawyer?”

“Griff took the kid fly fishing this summer and he’s got a whole career path planned out,” I explain.

“It was awesome. Uncle Griff got a fish this big.” Cap stretches his arms as wide as he can, then leans from side to side to stretch the length.

“I think he’s got what it takes,” Nora says, laughing again.

After we order our food, Farrah and Cap tell Nora about their snowshoeing adventure—she missed out by hiding in her room last night.

I’m only half listening—I heard the stories yesterday. Plus, I’m still buzzing from teasing Nora. She looks beautiful, listening to my son. How had I never noticed before?

How had I never felt the way I did when I had her in my arms yesterday?

But I did, didn’t I? I just shoved it down. Ignored it. Pretended it was my pent-up sexual energy I swore I didn’t need to deal with. But now that the real possibility is here, with Nora, I wonder if itistime to break it?

My dick threatens to make itself known, so I switch my thoughts to old tennis matches. It usually works. But now there’s Nora on the court, running after the balls, a sweat breaking out across her freckly skin.

Now she’s naked, trying to cover herself with a tennis racket.

The absolute fuck is wrong with me!

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