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Three tokens slide into the abyss, and I pump my fist in the air as multiple tickets dispense from the machine. “Yes!”
“Yay, Daddy! More tickets!”
“That’s right, bud.”
We spend another hour or so playing games, and I take as many pictures as I can of me and my boy, sensing the lingering looks of multiple women throughout the night.
I’m no stranger to those glances, those smiles that allude to the pleasure they see in a man being a father to his kid. And if it were a different world, I’d take some of them up on the offer they’re so blatantly putting on the table.
But one—like I told my mother—I’m not going to let just any woman into mine and my son’s life. And two, these women aren’t the curly-headed blonde that has my mind twisted up with thoughts of her.
By the time we leave, Oliver passes out within minutes of getting in the car, giving me time to drive in silence and think back over my day. I could barely concentrate at work with thoughts of talking to Amelia in the back of my head, so I didn’t accomplish nearly what I wanted to. Knowing that if I just stopped by the office and grabbed my files from earlier, I could find some time this weekend to catch up on what I didn’t finish, I decide to make a slight detour before heading home. If I have those papers, I’ll feel much better come Monday and more prepared for my next mediation.
Although Oliver is asleep, this is LA, and I’d be stupid to leave him in the car, so I pluck him from his seat and hoist him over my shoulder, carrying him up to my office so I can slip in really quick. The kid definitely isn’t as light as he used to be, and I struggle to keep him up as I unlock the door and turn off the alarm.
As quickly as I can, I rush back to my personal office, grab the files, and then head back out, locking the door behind me. But that’s when familiar voices have me freezing in place.
“I had a really nice time,” Amelia says to who I can only assume is Brayden, or as I like to call him in my head now, fuckface.
“I did too, Amelia. It was perfect. Perfect food, perfect wine, and the perfect woman.”
Sliding further into the shadows of the building, I hide so they don’t see me, and I continue to eavesdrop as Oliver softly snores in my ear, his head still resting on my shoulder.
Amelia lets out a soft laugh as I roll my eyes, my back still turned to them. “I’m far from perfect, Brayden.”
“Not to me. And I know this may seem forward, but I’d really like to kiss you goodnight.”
I know I shouldn’t, but I twist around so fast that I don’t miss his lips touching hers, the sight only serving as a reminder that the attraction I feel toward the woman can’t be more than that. But fuck, if it doesn’t feel like someone is twisting a knife in my chest right now just watching this.
He’s definitely more eager as their lips meet, but she also doesn’t shy away from reciprocating the kiss. And all I pick up on is the lack of passion, the heat that I know without a doubt would be there if it were my lips on hers.
I look away just as I hear him speak up again. “Have a good night. I will definitely be calling you.”
“Thank you again, Brayden.”And then the sound of her key moving in her office door tells me that she’s also grabbing something from her office before she calls it a night. Once I hear the sound of her door shut, I use that as my opportunity to rush back to my car so she doesn’t know I was there. That’s all I need is for her to catch me in the act of eavesdropping on their goodnight kiss.
But after I situate Oliver back in his seat and start the car to crank up the air conditioning, I wait for Amelia to walk out to her car like a gentleman should, just to make sure she’s safe. I have no doubt the woman probably carries Mace or a gun if I’m being honest, but you can never be too careful in this day and age, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to her and I had left.
Watching her walk to her car is like watching someone dangle a steak in front of a bloodthirsty lion. You know it’s a tease, and you know that the instinct is for the lion to attack, but patience is a virtue far too many animals don’t possess—and I am a prime example of that.
I didn’t get to speak with her today like I wanted, but come Monday, I’ll make sure that I do. I just hope I have enough control by then to not act on the instincts I’m feeling toward her at this moment—the very R-rated and territorial inclinations to make Amelia mine.
* * *
Images of Amelia kissing Brayden haunted me all weekend on and off. I’d be doing something with Oliver or watching television, and the next thing I knew, I was seeing their lips connected.
It was like my subconscious was torturing me for being a dick and witnessing their moment. But also, all it did was remind me that regardless of how I feel, I shouldn’t act on these feelings, these desires that are keeping me up at night and my hand well-lubricated.
Nevertheless, I know I still owe her an apology, so I don’t even bother stopping by my office on the way into our complex Monday morning. I head right for her door and get ready to swallow my pride so we both can move forward.
The chime above her door rings out as I step through, entering her office that smells like her—lemons and sugar. I notice a candle lit in the corner and make a mental note to look at the brand, so perhaps I can order one for myself, you know, so I can torture myself some more.
Her back is toward me as she shuffles through a filing cabinet, whistling a tune and ignoring my presence. But I know she heard the bell—she had to have.
“Good morning,” I finally say, forcing her to turn around to greet me.
Her fuchsia dress is sleeveless and form-fitting, much like the rest of her dresses, and her hair is down and wild around her face, as usual. She looks effortlessly beautiful, which instantly has my mind and body at war. “Well, it was until you showed up.” And then she’s turning her back again. “I believe I told you to stay the hell out of my office.”
“I know, but I swear, I came here to make peace.”
Slowly, she twists again and questions my sincerity with an arch of her brow and a push of her glasses up her nose. The move is so natural for her that she probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. But every time she does, all I see are sexy librarian fantasies involving her playing out in my mind.
Maybe Nick was on to something with the whole ruler thing.
“You’re surrendering?”
“You make it sound like there was a battle to be won when you say it like that.”
She scoffs. “Is that not what we were doing? Competing to see who could piss off the other person more?”
“We were, but I’m here to call a truce.”
She crosses her arms over her body. “And why is that?”
Inhaling deeply, I blow out a harsh breath. “Because despite what you may think, I’m not the guy I’ve shown you I am, and I want to start over.”
Her face softens, like she’s almost sympathetic and starting to believe me. And then the next words out of her mouth catch me off guard. “You have a son.”
I swallow hard as my pulse picks up. “I do.”
“So let me ask you this? Would you be proud of Oliver if he acted the way you did when we first met, or said some of the things you’ve said to me?”
“Fuck no. I get it, okay? I was an ass.”
