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He’d push my limits. Bring me to my limits.
A jolt of tweaks pulsed between my legs, and I quickly yanked my hands off the counter.
Holy shit.
Vic pushed the barrel back and stood up. “You done, kid?” Jackson nodded, and Vic picked up his plate and walked over to the sink.
“You sure it’s okay if he stays with you?”
The plates clattered as he put them in the stainless sink. He didn’t have a dishwasher, although there was an empty space for one to be installed. “You think I’d say it’s good if it wasn’t good?”
No. Definitely not. As closed off as Vic was, one thing I did know was that he always said what he meant. And if he didn’t want Jackson hanging around, he’d say so.
I turned to Jackson, who looked as if he was holding his breath. “Okay, but….” He was already sliding off the barrel, and I grabbed his arm to help him. “Do exactly as Vic says. And no more bad words.”
“I will.” He reached for his empty glass that had the residue of cashew milk clinging to its sides.
Jackson hurried over to the sink to stand beside Vic and passed him his glass. Vic took it and placed it in the sink.
God, Jackson looked like a flea standing beside him. But he also looked like a little six-year-old boy standing beside his father.
Vic leaned over and tugged the dry towel off the oven handle and tossed it to Jackson. Then he proceeded to squirt soap on the plates before picking up the sponge and washing them in the sudsy water.
I watched.
This was what Jackson should’ve had growing up. A man to wash dishes with. To eat tomatoes with. To spend time together doing things like catching frogs by the stream and kicking the ball around.
I inhaled a deep breath, tears threatening to fall as I watched them together.
God, why was I getting emotional? Vic had agreed to watch Jackson for one shift, that was all.
But seeing him stand beside Vic, doing something so mundane as washing and drying dishes…. Something Jackson always groaned about doing.
Vic handed Jackson a plate to dry. He didn’t say anything as Jackson rambled on about the tomatoes, and how maybe if he ate them again for dinner, he’d like them even faster.
He switched topics like a flick of a page and told Vic about the frog he saw down at the stream this morning.
Vic remained silent as he washed the glasses. It didn’t seem to matter to Jackson that he didn’t respond. He probably didn’t even notice.
The question was whether Vic was a man he could look up to. And as much as the man triggered goose bumps that bounced across my skin like heated embers and caused tweaks between my legs, Vic wasn’t a man to date.
Not that he would anyway.
I walked over to Jackson and lightly touched his shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”
He didn’t bother looking at me as he fit in “Bye” between telling Vic about catching the frog with his bare hand and how it jumped right into his lap.
I glanced at Vic, and he turned his head as if he knew I was looking at him. His eyes met mine and my heart slammed into my ribcage.
He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t expect him to, but there was something there. Something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t a spark or glimmer; it was as if a thin layer of ice had melted. Yeah, it was still rock solid and impenetrable, and it hadn’t cracked. More like the ice had thinned.
There was no denying that I liked Vic, and I liked him with Jackson and liked him being around. A lot.
But the question was for how long that would be.
Vic
It was after two in the morning by the time I’d left the police station. I’d needed to use a secure computer, and the Chief of Police’s was as good as it got without travelling to the city to use VUR’s.
