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Aside from that, I’ve only really been around my brothers-in-law, and it’s safe to say they don’t get overly involved with their kids at all. They’re way more concerned with beers and bro-time.
But everything in my visuals paints Garrett as something different—as someone who teases and plays with them actively. I’m not sure why. He has the same job that pulled my dad away time and time again, and I know for a fact that it’s not an easy schedule to keep.
Beyond that, I know that his marriage ended in divorce.
I don’t know the reasons, and to be honest, I don’t think I want to. I want my opinion to be pure—my own.
I don’t want to hear things about who he was or used to be and assert that those are the ways he still is.
Still, I find myself hoping I’ll get the opportunity to see him in action as a dad.
Single dads are hot—there’s a reason they’re a whole trope in romance novels—but it takes a special recipe to make a good one.
I could list out the ingredients, but I feel a little like that’s going to make me sound like one of those Instagram moms that crafts and drinks at the same time.
Instead, I turn to look at Garrett again and study the line of his jaw. It’s only slightly marred by a growing beard, and I can tell it’s hard and strong. Really shaped by the gods kind of thing.
The tiniest smirk sits prominently on his face, like he has a secret, and I can’t help but smile too. After last night, it’s fair to say he has more than a few secrets. We both do, actually.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask as he stretches out one arm to hold the top of the steering wheel and reaches out the other to take my hand into his.
“You. Us.” He glances at me, and I raise my eyebrows. He smiles deeper and looks back through the windshield to finish, “The combination.”
He rubs his thumb over my hand with startling familiarity, and I drift into a sleep-deprived fog. His thumb feels soothing and warm and remarkably like a memory. His touch is imprinted on me now—unforgettable. And I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to see a hold of my hand as anything so simple anymore.
It’s interconnected, related. It’s an extension of the intimacy we had in my bed last night, and holy moly, just the thought of the things we did last night make me blush.
In a good way.
Good God, it was good.
Sweet mother of mercy, it was really good. Too good. Addictively good.
I’m hooked. Downright smitten.
And even with as sweet as he’s being this morning, I don’t even know if I’ll ever see him again, let alone feel him moving inside me. He seems great—interested in me. But I know not everyone is above lying their hot butt off. I try to avoid it as much as I can, and yet, here I am, willfully concealing from my father that I’m engaging in this kind of relationship with one of his firemen.
I mean, who knows what Garrett is truly capable of.
I want to believe the best, but I’m completely out of my depth here.
“Hey,” he says softly, apparently noticing my death spiral into hysteria.
And I thought I covered it so well.
“Yes. I mean, me too,” I agree with his earlier sentiment. “I’m also…thinking about last night.” And the possible consequences in kind of a manic kind of way, but that’s beside the point.
He smiles. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop thinking about it anytime soon, truthfully.”
Okay, that’s good, right? If he’s thinking about last night so intently, it had to have been good for him too…
I almost laugh at myself. I came six times. He came three. Of course it was good, Lauren. Honestly, that’s not even a question. It’s the rest of the details about where we go from here that are unclear.
My brain knows I should ask him, but my heart is far less accepting of taking risks. To put yourself out there can mean a great reward, but it can also mean the graphic murder of your feelings. And my heart? Well, she’s not feeling quite up for that…
“How often do you, um, get your kids?” I ask, wanting to take my mind off the stupid vortex it’s trying to fall into and find out something about him in the process.
“Good question,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh. “We have a schedule, but it’s hard to follow when my job is constantly shitting on it. Bethanny tries not to budge on it too much, though, so I end up losing out on some of my scheduled times.” He shrugs, but there’s something about the way his shoulders hang up that makes me think he’s not as okay with it as he pretends to be. “Honestly, I’m happy to take them whenever I can get them.”
