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I swear he caresses my jaw before dropping his hand, but he wouldn’t. Would he?
My hot as an Arizona summer, cold as an Alaskan winter, and sexy as sin boss did not just run a finger along my jaw. And he definitely did not brush his thumb over my bottom lip. And he absolutely did not have a hard on when he was pressed against me in his doorway.
Heart racing, I escape to my car, the dinged-up paint on my ten-year-old Toyota sticking out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood full of Tesla’s. Thankfully, Emma has the cat carrier open and ready for Max when I get there, even as her nose is buried in her phone. “Emma, put your phone away and help me.” I wrestle Max into the carrier, ignoring his protests, then hold my hand out. “Phone. Now.”
“But Mom!”
“Now.” I take her phone and drop it in my purse behind me before starting the engine.
“He’s staring.”
I’m tempted to look, but I force myself to turn the key in the ignition with a little prayer that it starts on the first try. The last thing that I need is for my billionaire boss to see me struggle to start my car. “Why are you so bent out of shape, Mom? And how do you know him?”
Thank God it starts. I pull away from the curb with only one glance in the rear-view mirror. Mr. Sutton stands in his open doorway, watching me pull away. “That’s my boss, Emma. He owns Mailbox.”
“Oh shi—shoot. I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?” Emma’s teenage attitude melts away when she realizes exactly who that was. She may be fifteen and full of sass, but she’s not a bad kid at heart. Just impulsive.
I smack her leg. “Don’t swear. And no, I’m not in trouble. But you are.” Turning out of the upscale neighborhood, I remind myself to turn left toward Jake’s new apartment, not right to go home. I use the moment to count to twenty before I speak. Emma doesn’t know that was the single most embarrassing and arousing moment of my life. I’m not sure if I’m counting to stop myself from yelling at her, or because just that little bit of contact between us has me squeezing my thighs together.
“Mom.”
I ignore her, concentrating on not crashing the car or turning around so I can throw myself at Theodore Sutton’s dick.
“Mo-om.” The whining in her tone matches the whining of my lady bits, all of which are screaming at me to turn this car around.
“Ugh!” Emma flops back in the seat next to me, crossing her arms and exuding teenage attitude from every pore of her slightly oily face.
“What?” I give in and ask as I merge onto the highway.
“Are you really going to make me spend the weekend with Dad and without my phone?” She sighs heavily, as only an adolescent girl can. “Isn’t making me spend the weekend with Dad punishment enough?”
“Emma! He’s your father. Spending time with him isn’t a punishment.”
“It is though,” she mutters. “It’s not like you’re doing anything special. Why can’t I stay home with you?”
Keeping my own sigh buried, I twist my hands on the steering wheel. “We have to stick to the custody arrangement we worked out with the mediator, sweetie. If I don’t hold up my end of the bargain and make sure you see your dad, then he doesn’t have to hold up his end of the bargain. It’s only one weekend a month—you can manage.” Not that Jake’s paltry child support payments make much difference, but it’s the principle of the thing. Besides, I’ll be damned if Jake can blame their bad relationship on anyone but himself. “Don’t let Dad forget to take you to your appointment tomorrow morning. It’s your annual check-up with Dr. Clark.”
I hate that Emma’s appointment with her doctor is on Jake’s weekend, but he assured me that he would take her. In exchange, I get a weekend with the apartment to myself and the chance to sleep in the real bed instead of on the couch for two nights in a row. How sad is it that it’s become the highlight of my month?
“Can I have my phone back?”
“You can have it back when I drop you off. For now, your punishment for losing Max, again, is that you have to, horror of horrors, have an actual conversation with your mother.” I should be more upset about the cat incident, but Max is a slippery guy and I’ve accidentally let him out of the house more than once myself. I don’t miss Emma’s smirk and head shake at my idea of a punishment, even if she covers it with a scowl a second later.
Pulling up to Jake’s apartment, I roll down the windows before I park. “Okay sweetie, try not to be too miserable.” My tone is teasing but I mean the words sincerely. Emma and Jake had a pretty contentious relationship before he and I separated, and the divorce has only made it worse. But he fought for his weekends with her and I would never stand in the way of them seeing each other.
Emma grabs her bag from the backseat before wrapping her arms around me in a hug. “Bye Mom, love you. I’ll do my best, but I make no promises.”
She’s halfway up the steps to his place when the door opens and my ex-husband steps out, face already pulled into a glower.
“What the fuck, Sophie? You guys were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
With a glance back at me, Emma hesitates. “It’s okay sweetie, go on inside. I’ll see you on Sunday night.” I wave her toward the door.
Jake thunders down the stairs toward me, his skin flushed an unattractive red, but I ignore him until Emma is inside and the door is shut behind her. “I sent you a text, Jake. The cat got out and we were looking for him. Can you not yell at me in front of her?”
“I’m not yelling at you.” He cuts me off before I can say anything snarky in response. “This weekend is important to me, whether you think it is or not. She’s my daughter too.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re raising your voice at me—last time I checked, that fits the definition of yelling. I know she’s your daughter too—I was there when it happened.” Do I confront him about what I know? Or wait until he says something? Do I even want to have this conversation right now? No, I don’t. I want to leave before I have to talk to him any longer. I swear to God if he tries to tell me about his new fiancée, I will lose my mind right here in the parking lot. “Whatever. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
