“I did.” He tips his head down to mine, and there will never be a more perfect moment for him to kiss me. It’s like we’re floating amongst the stars and nothing matters. Not the past. Not the mistakes I’ve made.
Just this moment.
But he doesn’t kiss me.
Instead, he folds the map and puts it back in the bag. “It’s cold out here, and I have an early morning tomorrow. And Jackson has school.”
“Right.” Back to earth I go, free falling from outer space. “He picked out his outfit for tomorrow,” I go on. “With approval, of course. He has really cute clothes.”
“I enjoy shopping for him,” Wes admits. “So does my mom.”
“I can tell.”
Wes picks up the heavy telescope with ease, putting it on the back porch for the night. I don’t think theft is a worry around here. We step back into the house, and the warm air feels hot against my cheeks.
“You’re all set for the morning?” he asks, taking off his shoes. He’s nervous about me driving Jackson, and usually something like this would annoy me. I’m capable. Trustworthy, well, that’s questionable, but this time there’s nothing to worry about.
“Yes. His bag is ready to go, and you showed me the drop-off and pick-up procedure twice today.”
He laughs. “Sorry. He’s only been in school a few weeks, and I don’t know if he’s used to his new routine or not yet.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’d rather see you be a little overprotective than too carefree with him. I know you love him, and you’re a good dad.”
“Thanks,” he says, almost as if my statement caught him off guard. “It’s not always easy, ya know, doing things alone.” He goes to the fridge and grabs the plate of leftovers. Jackson helped me make chicken enchiladas tonight, and while I don’t mean to toot my own horn, we both went back for seconds.
“This looks good,” Wes says as he sticks his plate in the microwave.
“I enjoyed it. Jackson did too.” There’s still nearly a minute left on his food, and suddenly the silence feels awkward. I go into the living room, fold the blanket I was using, and grab my tea to reheat again.
I add another spoonful of sugar to it, stirring it, and stick it in the microwave once Wes’s food is done heating. We both sit at the table.
“Do you have campaign stuff tomorrow too?”
He shakes his head. “No, just the gym and then work. I’ll go grocery shopping on the way home. If there’s anything you want, I can grab it for you.”
“I do like chocolate an awful lot.”
He smiles. “Noted. Any kind or something special?”
“I guess any kind. But not dark chocolate. That shit is nasty.”
Wes laughs, cutting into another piece of his food. “Agreed. And you know you don’t have to make dinner every night. I’ll do it the nights I’m home.”
“I don’t mind,” I say honestly. And really, I want to stay busy. Being busy keeps me from thinking.
“Oh, and I’m off all day Wednesday, so if there was something you want to do, feel free.”
“I might go visit my dad and my sister,” I tell him. And I really should, especially since Dad fell again yesterday. As soon as I get paid, I’m going to burn through half my money just buying medication for him. Since my food and lodging are figured into my pay, I’m more or less living here for free. I could send all my money over to Dad and Heather. Yeah, I want stuff for myself. But I don’t need stuff.
Wes nods. “I’m sure they’d like that.”
“Yeah. I think so.” Heather will, at least. Dad might not remember who I am. I finish my tea, put the mug in the dishwasher and wipe down the already-clean counter just so I have something to do. Wes is done now, and we both look at each other in an awkward stand-off.
He has to be thinking the same thing I am. We kissed, and it was a damn good kiss. I felt his hard cock against me. My breasts pressed against his firm chest, and we both wanted more. If Jackson hadn’t come down the steps, we would have had more.
And then what?
Would we be in an even more awkward situation than we are right now? I’ve never had someone resist me like this, and it sucks. Only because I want him something terrible…and not just physically, as much as I don’t want to admit that to myself.
I should hate him, but I can’t. Because, without a doubt, Weston is making me feel.
Chapter Seventeen
Scarlet
“I thought maybe you forgot about me now that you’re a working girl and all,” Heather says, sitting back in the plastic chair. Her hair is even worse than before, and she has a bruise on her cheek.
“What happened?” I ask, ignoring her subtle jab.
She shrugs. “Kickball got a little rough in the yard.”
“You’re allowed to play kickball?” I shake my head. “That’s not the point. Please don’t get in fights.”
“Seriously, Scar? Like I want to get in fights?”
I let out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just…don’t get into fights.”
Heather rolls her eyes. “How’s the new job? Are you ready to slit your wrists yet?”
“No. It’s not bad at all. I kinda like it.”
Heather cocks an eyebrow. “You hate kids. This guy must be loaded for you to say you like being a nanny for a rich, spoiled brat.”
Her words piss me off, and I try hard not to let myself recognize it. Because you only get upset when someone insults someone you care about. “He doesn’t have the money I thought he did. And the kid isn’t spoiled or bratty at all. He’s sweet.”
“Are you fucking him? He must have one magic cock for you to hang around now.”
I want to be fucking Wes. I have no doubt his cock is magic. “Nope. Not sleeping with him.”
“You mean not yet, right? That’s how you pull your tricks, isn’t it? Sex and blackmail are like your claim to fame.”
“They’re not,” I say, fully aware of another visitor eavesdropping. I get it, our conversation is unorthodox at best, but geez, be a little discreet.
“So what are you going to do? We need money.”
“My job.”
Heather’s eyebrows push together, and she stares at me for a good few seconds. “Wait. You took a job as a nanny for a rich couple so you could con them out of their money, but you’re just going to be a fucking nanny and earn minimum wage?”
Hearing her say it out loud makes me realize how terrible a person I am. “I’m doing the job I was hired to do. And it’s not a rich couple. Wes is a single dad.”
“Ohh, his name is Wes. You must be hot for him or something. Because my badass big sister doesn’t work petty jobs.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop bragging about me to your prison friends, okay? You’re going to get me caught or something.”
“Please.” She runs a hand through her butchered hair. Fixing it is the first thing I’m going to do once she’s out of here.
“And I don’t get hot for people. I think all that love shit is that just that: shit.”