Page 66 of Outlaw Heartstrings
I’m bent in half, tears streaming down my face as I can’t stop laughing. I can’t believe my mom of all people practically just set up Jules with one of the Raines boys. And probably as just a booty call. I don’t know a lot of dating apps, but I do know that there’s not a lot of marriages coming out of these online hookups. At least not around Fairy Bush.
Before I know what she’s doing, Jules is reaching over and snatching my own phone from my back pocket. “Since you think this is so funny, I’m creating a CheekyChat profile for you!”
I gasp, reaching out to try and get my phone back. But my tipsy reflexes aren’t as good as Jules’s. Plus she’s taller than me and it doesn’t take much for her to hold it out of my reach.
“No way! Give it back!” I whine through my laughter.
Tammy slaps my hands out of the air. “You should totally just let her do it, Alba!” she insists, her words slurring. “A little cherry-popping action would do you some good.”
“Yeah, honey,” Mom agrees, sounding almost as drunk as everybody else. “You should take a chance. Go on some dates before you’re old like me.”
Jules grins devilishly in my direction. “They’re right. No more wasting all your hotness.”
“No more wasting your hotness!” Laney cheers, lifting her glass in the air and looking like she’s getting ready to face-plant soon.
I laugh, shaking my head at their ridiculousness. Sure, I’ll admit that I do sometimes get lonely, and I’ve developed a concerning attachment to my vibrator, and I am a tiny bitcurious about what it’d be like to date some of these men Jules has been showing us.
Though that could just be the horniness talking.
Hanging around Easton these days has been doing a number on my hormones. It would actually be nice to be capable of existing in his presence without wanting to jump on him and ride his leg.
“Fine,” I give in, and the girls let out a round of drunken cheering. “Let’s give this dating app thing a go.”
24
EASTON
“Boys’ niggghhhttt!!!”
Jagger and Cameron streak down the hallway, launching their homemade paper planes as they go.
While the girls are off doing their thing, us guys are at the house, holding a boys’ night of our own. I’ll admit it—this is nothing like the kind of boys’ night I would have participated in a few months ago. In my opinion, tonight is so much better.
Because it includes Jagger and Cameron.
My son is spending the night at my place. This is my first time hanging out with him without Alba. And while I enjoy being around her—way too muchlately—there’s something special about getting this time with Jagger. It feels important, andI’m excited to start making up for lost time.
Eventually, the rest of the guys settle down with a movie, pigging out in front of the TV screen. But I can’t sit still. My mind is active, thinking through all the things I wish I’d had a dad around to teach me.
I drag Jagger down the hall to my room and show himhow to tie a necktie. “You never know when you’ll need to make a good impression in life,” I tell him as he stands in front of the mirror grinning and looking so damn proud of himself.
Then I instruct him on the best way to give a proper handshake. “Shoulders back. Eye contact. And a firm grip.” We practice until I’m satisfied that he’s mastered the technique.
Next, we end up in the garage and I teach him the fundamentals of using some basic tools. By the time we’re done, he’s well-versed in the differences between a wrench and a screwdriver.
Jagger asks a trillion questions, excitedly soaking up everything I say. Then, he’s asking what he can go fix. So while I plate up some takeout for us, my son roams around the house, tightening the screws on every light switch panel.
“What do we do now?” the little boy asks, popping out of his chair the second he’s done eating his dinner.
I lean back in my seat, setting down my fork and glancing around the room for what to work on next. “Hmm. Maybe we can head out to the driveway and I can show you how to change a tire…” I muse out loud.
Jagger’s eyes light up with excitement but Rocco appears in the kitchen entryway and puts a halt to my plans. “Dude, I know you’re having a blast being Mr. Dad and all, but let’s show the boy a good time. We’re headed out to the backyard.” He turns to Jagger, who’s now holding up a screwdriver in each hand. “What do you say, Bob the Builder? Want to lose the tool belt and go roast some marshmallows?”
“Yeah!” the little boy yips.
Shit—my brother is probably right. It’s supposed to be afun night, and here I am cramming eight years of dad-ing into it. Even though Jagger seems to be having a great time, I’m sure he’d rather be playing.
Soon, we’re all huddled around a small campfire. Oliver keeps trying to turn the damn thing into a raging bonfire, and I keep having to remind him that we have HOA rules to follow.
