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“Trust me, you don’t want that kid to be the one to spot us,” Lance says, slinking down in the seat.
“I really don’t think this little SUV is equipped to conceal a gladiator. And that kid is hilarious.”
Lance glances at the little boy a smirk upturning his lips. “His name is Dante, and he reminds me of my little brother Trevor.”
Dante speaks up from the porch.
“Fine. I’m sorry, Mommy. For what I said. Can I come back in?”
Her voice rings out clearly. “What did you say?”
“I don’t know!”
“Five minutes left.”
“Fine. Whatever. Hand me my pillow. I’ll sleep out here.”
Seconds later, a pillow flies through the open door.
“I will sleep out here!” He threatens before looking around, the fear in his eyes, proving his threat empty. “I will.”
“Well, there’s your pillow, ‘man of the house.’”
“You are supposed to be nice to me. I’m your son!”
“Works both ways, kid. You have an attitude problem.”
Lance and I chuckle before he speaks up. “It’s eleven. He’s usually in bed by now. He’s up way later than normal.”
I lift a brow. “You know the bedtime routine next door?”
“I’m home a lot.”
“Why?”
“Because…” he frowns. “Long story.”
“I have time.”
He turns to
me, his hair damp. I can smell his body wash. He’s got on a T-shirt and black mesh shorts. My mouth waters at the thought of curling up next to him, inhaling that scent.
“I lost my truck not too long ago.”
“Lost it?”
“Sold it.”
“Why?”
“Had to.”
“Elaborate.”
“Naw. Not tonight. Not something I want to think about right now, okay? Just forget I brought it up.” He does want to talk about it. It’s eating him up inside, I can tell, but I nod.
“You can come in,” the woman calls out before Dante disappears inside.
