Page 95 of The Fake Husband Play
“That was over a decade ago, and I’m pretty sure my parents couldn’t give two shit what I’m doing right now,” Parker says. “They’re too busy fighting over who gets the beach house.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, wincing in empathy. “But, at least they’re finally divorcing. That’s good, right? They’ve been so unhappy for so long.”
“I don’t care about my parents’ happiness right now,” he says, closing in on me as I pause beside a weathered bench outside the closed Clip ‘N Curl. “I care about your happiness. Specifically, your happiness after I’ve made you come screaming my name, cuddled you in the little spoon position for at least eight hours, and taken that fine ass of yours out to a skillet breakfast.”
“I love a skillet breakfast,” I murmur, pretty sure I’d love the rest of that, too.
Coming screaming his name sounds top tier, and it’s been so long since I’ve been properly snuggled. Chuck was as shit at snuggling as he was at oral sex. I’m pretty sure Parker, however, will excel at both.
Maybe it wouldn’t be totally crazy to take him home with me…
Or, more likely, go home withhim, since I sleep in a twin bed hidden behind a curtain in the back corner of my café…
“Come on, Makena,” he says in that sexy drawl of his. “You know, kisses like that don’t happen every day.” He lifts a hand, gently brushing his fingertips along my temple, sending happy prickles rushing across my skin. “I have my truck here and I’ve only had one drink, so I’m fine to drive. Let me take you home and show you what my tongue can do to the rest of your beautiful body.”
I’m tempted…
So fucking tempted…
So tempted, I’m about to launch myself at Parker and beg him to give me a preview before we race each other to his truck. But thank God, my car pulls up at that very moment.
The driver—Antonia, I think her name was—rolls down her window, asking, “Hey, you Makena?”
“Yes!” I say, launching myself at the back door. On my way into the backseat, I exhale in a rush, “Bye-Parker-thanks-for-the-offer-but-gotta-go-bye.” To the driver, I hiss through my teeth, “Drive. Please. Fast.”
“But I don’t have your number,” Parker calls after me.
He says something else, but Antonia is already pulling away. When we’re safely across the parking lot,on the verge of pulling out onto the road, she asks, “Are you okay? Was that guy bothering you?”
“I’m fine,” I say, turning over my shoulder to see Parker still staring after me. “And no, he wasn’t bothering me. He was tempting me. And I just…can’t. It would be too complicated.”
“Are you sure?” Antonia asks, relaxing now that she knows I wasn’t being harassed. “He was pretty fucking hot.”
“I used to babysit him when he was twelve and I was eighteen.”
“Oh, yeah, gross,” Antonia says. “That’s a lot.”
“A lot a lot,” I agree.
As she pulls out onto the street, I turn to face the front of the vehicle, committed to leaving Parker behind me. After all, I can’t have a red-hot fling with the boy I used to babysit, even if he is fully grown and sexy as hell and has an excitingly filthy mouth.
Can I?
Chapter
Twenty-Four
GRAMMERCY
“Gee! Gee! Look what I made!”
Mimi’s face pops up in front of Elly’s on my phone screen, and that increasingly familiar rush of warmth fills my chest. Before Elly and I got together, I was sure I wanted to be a father someday—the kind of dad mine wasn’t, the kind that makes his babies feel seen and heard and loved—but I never imagined it would be this much fun.
Mimi’s been my sweet, wacky little buddy from day one.
Now, just three weeks in, I don’t like to imagine life without her.
“Whatcha got there,p’tite chou?” I shift, trying to get comfortable on the hard bench. The North Carolina visitors’ locker room is giving Seattle’s a run for its money in the postage-stamp size department, though the facilities are admittedly nicer.
