Not only did I get my ass absolutely handed to me by a five-year-old, but now, I’m trapped in a tiny space with theonewoman I’m supposed to be avoiding. And by tiny, I mean the woman is practically sitting in my goddam lap.
Nova wouldn’t let me drive until Mr. Sparkles Sugarplum Pinky Glitter Bum was strapped into the seat like a human. Seeing as my pickup truck is old, with only a single bench for seating…I soon realized it was a grave mistake, letting Maisie tag along to school drop off. Normally, Nova would be strapped into her car seat, but her school is just down the road.
Nova insisted her stuffy needed its own seat, specifically the passenger door seat. That left Maisie and Nova to squish in the center together. Not to mention, she had to hold the paw of said pain in my ass stuffy, because, and I quote, “Mr. Sparkles Sugarplum Pinky Glitter Bum is afraid of the car,” which left Maisie pressed up against me.
We hit a pothole, and Maisie slides closer, her body heat seeping through my jeans. I’m painfully aware of every single millimeter where her body touches mine.
Five, to be exact.
The tip of her clearly new boot rubs against my dirty one, leaving behind a smudge of dirt, a physical depiction of the stain I’ll leave on this woman’s life if I continue to let her in.
Her knee continues to bounce off my own like a pinball machine with each bump we hit. She bounces it, I assume from nerves. I would be too if I was the filling in a Nova and Grayson sandwich. It’s taking everything in me to refrain from planting my palm on it so I don’t bruise the delicate thing with my bony knee.
The curve of her heavenly sculpted waist. She should need a permit to wear a pair of Wranglers. The ones she’s wearing are painted on her in the most distracting way. We hit another bump, and her ass grinds a little further into me. Fuck the SATs—refraining from touching Maisie is the hardest test I’ve ever been faced with.
Four, those goddam strawberry locks. Nova demanded the windows be down just in case her stuffy gets car sick, even though it’s colder than penguin tits outside. The breeze taunts me with Maisie’s cherry scent, but it also blows her long locks barely grazing across the tiny sliver of chest peeking out from my button up flannel.
Five, her fucking hands. She awkwardly shuffles them, unsure where to place them, since we are wedged in here like sardines. Hands should not be that sexy. I want to trace the dainty freckles dusting the tops of her knuckles.
A bump has her hand accidentally slipping onto my lap. I let out a hiss under my breath. She retracts her hand like she’s touched fire, gripping her thigh for dear life. I imagine those hands wrapping around something else just as tight…
Fuck, this girl is going to be trouble.
I keep my eyes trained on the road, taking the single turn that leads us to Nova’s school. This town is so small, there’s only one school. Everyone knows everyone's drama, and they trade it like currency. I didn’t grow up here, but I’ve lived here long enough to be considered a local. I know the town moms are going tohave a field day when they learn about Maisie’s arrival and what that might mean for their single sons.
My knuckles tighten on the wheel, and the leather groans. The thought of local cowboys flocking to her in town makes my chest uneasy.
She’s none of your concern, Gray. Stick to the rules.
I’m one more dip away from dragging her fully into my lap so at least it would give my burning body some reprieve. She’s everywhere. Cherries in the air. Tempting freckled skin against mine. And the worst offender, in my fucking head every time I close my eyes. I’m so focused on the road, I come to in the middle of Nova and Maisie’s conversation, and my jaw about hits the floor.
“I’m so happy we’re friends. Are you and my uncle friends too? I once heard Mommy say his right hand was his only friend. He should take some lessons from me.” She looks down at Maisie’s lap, where she still has a death grip on her jeans. I see her wheels start to turn. Before I can stop the trainwreck from crashing, she blurts, “Hey, you have nice hands. Maybe they can be Uncle Gway's friend too! This is perfect,” she says, her innocent smile so big, her dimples pop out.
I choke on my tongue, trying to catch my breath and my dignity as we pull up to the school.
“Don’t you think she has nice hands?” Nova asks me, her head tilting to the side like a confused puppy.
This kid will be the death of me. Maisie looks like she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, unsure if she should avoid my or Nova's face. I groan, the truck suddenly a million degrees, even with the damn windows down.
I manage a clipped, “Yep, they are very nice hands.” I spot Nova’s teacher waiting to greet her. “Oh look, we’re here!” I rush out, putting the truck in park before flinging my door open and sprinting out of the truck.
I round the truck, hoping the cool breeze helps wash away the blush burning me. Nova has her stuffy unbuckled when Iopen the passenger door, yelling “catch” when she chucks it at my face. I stuff it under my arm to help her out, strapping her giant backpack to her. It practically topples her backwards.
She reaches for her unicorn, but I hold it firm. “Not today, Novey. You know the rules. I’ll keep him safe while you’re at school.”
Her face morphs into the most adorable pout. It takes everything in me to stick to my ground. “It can be our little secret.Please?” she pouts.
I squat and squish her little cheeks. “How about I have a bowl of ice cream waiting for you when you’re done with school this afternoon? You can eat it with him and fill him in on your day.”
“Really?” Her face lights up, and that one look alone has healing properties. My heart swells at the innocence I see reflected in her eyes after everything she’s been through. This little girl is tougher than most of the men I work with.
“Really,” I reply, giving her a smooch on the forehead. “Have a good day at school, sweet girl.”
She spots one of her classmates and vibrates on the spot with excitement. “BYE, WAISIE,” she yells, blowing out my eardrums.
That girl wouldn’t know fear if it stared her down straight in the face. She’s a wild child, unapologetically herself. Sometimes, I have to remind myself if a five-year-old can be this brave, so can I. I’ve lost count how many times her bravery has saved me.
I about jump out of my boots when I spot Maisie staring at me as I return to my truck. She gives me a hesitant smile while I put the car in drive.
