Page 27 of Home in the Country
“But Mommy, Uncle Jake said that his friend was coming over.”
“Yes, I remember, but only grown-ups answer the door, okay?” she says while looking at me before returning her gaze to the young boy next to her.
His hair is more blond than red like Fallon’s strawberry blonde, and his eyes are sage-colored with a smattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks.
Clearing my throat, I squat down and hold out my hand. “I’m Otto.”
He eyes my hand then looks for his mother’s approval. She nods and he puts his hand in mine.
“I’m Briggs.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Briggs.” I force the words out because this is exactly what I was afraid of.
He grins and a dimple pops in his little cheek before he runs back toward the kitchen.
“Hey Otto.” Jake walks over and pulls me in for a half handshake, half hug, but I’m still looking at Fallon. “Thanks for comin’ by, man. Case said you guys would be my guinea pigs for this.”
“I’m sure he did,” I mumble as I follow Jake into the kitchen. He hands me a growler of beer with a beaming smile.
“What’s this?”
“I’ve been makin’ my own—you know, small batches and stuff—and I think I finally got it where I want it, but I need some feedback before I offer it at the field.”
“We’ll definitely let you know.”
“I appreciate it.” Moving around the island, I hug Cheyenne and then take a step toward the door. I have zero desire to stay here a moment longer than necessary.
“Sure. I’ll see you guys around. Big Rigg, it was nice to meet you, bud.” He giggles and waves, and I’m halfway to freedom when I hear Fallon’s voice.
“I’ll walk you out.”
She hustles to catch up and then follows me out the door and into the humid Tennessee air.
“I appreciate you bein’ so nice to Briggs.”
“Did you think I’d be a dick to your kid?” She squares her shoulders as she faces me.
“No. I just like to acknowledge when people take the time to interact with my child. Not everyone likes kids, and it means a lot to me despite what’s going on between us.”
“There’s nothing going on between us,” I say with more force than necessary and then scrub my palm over my jaw. “Are people really dicks to him?”
She sighs wearily and shrugs. “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s intentional, other times it’s not, but it still hurts my heart.”
Mine too, apparently, but I refrain from rubbing at the ache in my chest.
“Well, I’m always gonna be nice to your kid, so that’s a nonissue.”
“I know.” She nods and takes a step toward me. “What about the other piece?”
“There is no other piece.”
“What if I want to continue what we did last week?”
“No.” I move to step past her, but she blocks me with that sweet fuckin’ body I can’t get out of my head.
“Why not? It can just be sex, like friends with benefits.”
“Someone always gets attached and we’re not friends.”
