Page 19 of Cross Check Daddies
“No,” she says, smiling like I’m amusing. “Come on, Tanner.”
“Comeon,” I repeat, stepping closer. “What’s the harm? I’m not asking you to marry me. Just... a beach night. A bike ride. Eat some dessert before dinner. Low stakes.”
She laughs again and starts to step back, but I catch her wrist gently, spinning her toward me. Her body leans into mine by accident. Or maybe not. She looks up at me, and I brush my fingers across her cheekbone.
“As friends,” I say, voice low. “I haven’t seen you in years. Don’t you wanna catch up?”
Her eyes drop to my mouth. My blood surges, heavy and hot. My cock stirs with the thought of her pressed up against me for more than a second. She smells like sugar and saltwater, likeskin warmed by sunlight. Fuck, she’s close. I pull back before I say something I shouldn’t.
“It’ll be fun,” I add. “Think about it.”
She watches me like she’s weighing something.
Then I nod toward her palm. “Got a pen?”
She digs one from her bag. I take her hand, smooth and small, and write my number across her skin. My touch lingers a little longer than necessary.
“You could’ve written it in the notebook,” she teases.
“I could’ve,” I say, giving her a slow grin. “But this way, you have to look at it for a while.”
She laughs as she steps back, shaking her head.
“You’re trouble, King.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
She gets back into her car, tossing the notebook onto the passenger side. “I’ll think about it.”
“You better.”
As she pulls out of the lot, I watch the way sunlight catches her hair, the way she smiles through the window before she’s gone.
Too fucking pretty for her own good.
And way more dangerous now than she ever was back then.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Brooke
He’s already ramblingwhen I pick up, his voice crackling over the speaker. Something about a last-minute invite to a party in Philly. Something about how it’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
I stare at the wall in front of me and wait for him to finish, letting his voice blur into background noise.
“I’ll make it up to him,” he adds, like that’s supposed to erase the broken promise.
I don’t say anything. Just breathe. Then, quietly, “I don’t care, Aaron.” And I hang up.
Seriously, he would pick a party over spending time with his son? What the fuck is wrong with my ex-husband?
The silence afterward is sharp. No music playing, no TV droning on in the background. Just the occasional scratch of a crayon from the other room. I walk down the short hallway to find Jackson on the living room rug, tongue poking out as he concentrates on the drawing in front of him.
It’s a man, tall and broad-shouldered with a blue cape trailing behind him, and a big grin drawn in thick black marker.
“Who’s that?” I ask, settling beside him on the floor.
He lifts his chin. “It’s Tanner. When he saved Buddy. I made him a superhero.”
