Page 13 of Single Mom's Secret Diary
“It’s because you missed me, isn’t it?”
Her exasperated sigh has me chuckling.
“No, I know who you missed. It’ll only take me a quick second to grab him, and then you can have all three of us at your disposal.” I lean in again. “For as long as you want.”
“You should just stop. You are not as smooth as you think you are.” Her hair whips against my chest as she takes a sharp corner to descend the stairs.
I press my hand there, feigning pain from an actual blow. “You wound me, Avery. So deeply. I am only trying to be accommodating.”
“Mmm.” She pauses mid-step, halfway down the stairs, and wobbles a little. Her hand lands on Wyatt’s arm, and his entire body seems to tense.
“Sorry,” she murmurs before she’s stomping down those stairs again. Avery walks toward the lab like she owns the place.
We both chase after her.
Having her here is going to make things interesting. I rub my hands together at the thought and slip into the lab to see Laurel waiting for Wyatt’s return.
The sour turn of her mouth when she spots Avery and then me cranks up my grin.
Laurel clutches her clipboard tighter, already stomping into the store rooms after the two of them like she can’t stand the thought of her space being invaded. Like she doesn’t want Avery to touch anything that’s hers.
If only Wyatt recognized that he is a part of what she considers hers. He’s too clueless to see the way she fawns over him. But she has certainly observed the way he’s fascinated with Avery by the way she responds.
Oh, yes. Having Avery here is certainly going to be fun.
8
Avery
My first day at Nguyen Candy Company was a whirlwind. But after my first week, I’ve finally found my footing and settled into my position. The pace is slow as Wyatt and I experiment with flavors and ratios. He tries hard not to show me his frustrations with the process. Laurel, his lab assistant or whatever her title is, reassures him with each failure that it took him a long time to get their black garlic truffle just right.
He settles back into his cool demeanor each time and pulls me into his office to taste a competitor’s chocolate and take notes. I’m pretty sure Laurel isn’t a fan of this since he shuts her out like she’s a distraction.
I’m pretty sure I’m the distraction with the way I catch him watching me with an unfocused gaze.
It’s not endearing me to Laurel even a little bit, but there’s nothing for me to do about it.
The hardest part of the last week has been seeing Ezra every day. He greets me in my office every morning, bearing a freshcup of coffee—exactly how I took it when we were together during Spring Break.
I want to hate him. To keep him at a distance. To avoid remembering all the ways he’d made me feel special when I was eighteen and vulnerable. But those small actions needle me with our past, and I’m struggling against my attraction to him.
I didn’t think it would build like this again, but I find myself daydreaming about what it might be like if we’d never met back then. Whether this feeling would be so strong if we had no history, if he didn’t look at me like he knew exactly what he was missing.
Because sometimes, I catch that look in his eyes, wistful and wanting, even if it’s only a glimpse because he’s being so careful around me. Like right now, he leans against the door jamb of my office, sipping from his own mug as he watches me settle behind my desk.
He won’t leave me until I’ve taken my first sip and approved, so I do. The flavor closes my eyes. A dark Columbian bean with sweet and aromatic notes of hazelnut, honeycomb, and dark chocolate. The splash of milk and sugar highlights the profile for me, and the caffeine settles warmth in my stomach.
When I open my eyes, Ezra is staring at my mouth. Then his gaze flicks up to my eyes, holding me motionless for a breath before he nods and slips away.
I can barely breathe against the onslaught of heat and dirty thoughts in his absence. Pulling my diary free from my bag, I open to a new page in the hopes that I can unload all of these confusing feelings and clear my mind up for the rest of the day.
My dreams have become riddled with Ezra and me entangled in too many compromising positions. Many of them are echoes from our past, but more and more, they’re breaching our new reality. Like having him slip into my officein the morning to bring me coffee—like he did this morning—but he doesn’t simply slip away again.
He comes in and closes the door before cornering me against my desk, hands on my hips, pressing the two of us together so that I can feel him hard against me. But more erotic than the feel of him wanting me is the slow way he lowers his mouth to mine and takes his time in devouring me.
How he lifts me to the edge of my desk and pulls my leg around his hip, his hand sliding down my bare thigh as we rock together.
Sometimes, he settles me down on the love seat on the other side of the room, pulling me into his lap and inviting whoever knocks on my door to interrupt us—typically, either Wyatt or Ryder… or both.
