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“Wouldn’t that mean he cares less about me because he doesn’t want me all to himself?”
"He knows you want both of us. And your happiness means so much to him that he's willing to give you what you want even if it's...unconventional.”
“That’s one word for it. Most of the time I just feel greedy.” She lays her fork down. “Maybe I’m more like my mom than I thought.”
“You’re not a whore if that’s what you’re getting at,” I say, more forcefully than I intended, but it gets the point across.
“No, I know. And I don’t think of her that way either.” She smiles shyly. “I know you think Sawyer cares about me. What about you? Do you care about me?”
I cock an eyebrow. “You even have to ask that?”
“Sometimes it’s nice to hear the words out loud, even if you already know it’s true.”
Our server reappears to ask if we need anything else. I ask for the check and some boxes. Noelle packs up the leftovers while I pay.
Back in my truck, she hums along to the song on the radio, but doesn’t say a word. She hasn’t said anything since she asked if I care about her. Of course I care, and she knows it. She wants me to tell her how I feel.
The thought of putting words to the things she does to me—and then actually saying them—makes my whole body tense up. How can I tell her that seeing her in my kitchen this morning was like finding buried treasure? Or that hearing her laughter from the next room is like catching a snippet of good news? And don’t even get me started on how it feels to be inside her.
In the end, I guess I’m willing to sound like a walking cliché if it means that much to her.
I squeeze the steering wheel. “Being around you...makes me feel things I haven’t felt since before Sawyer was born.”
“Like what?” she asks.
“Like I want to do stupid shit,” I say. Her forehead crimps in confusion. I wince. “That came out wrong. I meant reckless shit. The kind of stuff you do when you feel like you’re invincible and can get away with anything.”
“You mean, I make you feel like a kid again?”
I groan. “See, when you put it like that—”
“Stop. I think it’s nice.” She rests her hand on my thigh. “You work really hard, Colton. If anyone deserves to feel carefree from time to time, it’s you. And I’m glad I can do that for you.”
“My carefree days are long behind me, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Hmm,” she says, removing her hand. “I guess Sawyer was right about you.”
I eye her curiously. “How so?”
“The night we met, he told me you didn’t know how to have fun.”
“He said that, huh?” Figures, even when he’s miles away, my kid still manages to get my goat. Then again, I can’t remember the last time he and I did anything that could be construed asfuntogether. Not until a couple of days ago.
“I told him that sounded sad.”
“Sad?” Sure, I guess it would be sad, if it were true. I work a lot and it doesn’t leave me with much free time, but I know how to enjoy myself when the opportunity presents itself...Don’t I?“I thought last night was pretty fun. Seemed like we had a good time in the hot tub the other night, too.”
“We did.” She smiles, but the amusement doesn’t reach her eyes. She stares out at the road. “I don’t want to go back yet, Colton.”
“You’re worried about seeing Sawyer?”
“Or not seeing him, if he isn’t there.”
“Well, we could go check out a frozen pond—” My truck starts freaking the fuck out as she unclicks her seatbelt. “What are you doing?”
“Being reckless.” She unzips her coat, puts her back to the door, then pulls her sweater up and her bra down.
The father in me wants to tell her to cover up. First, because it’s cold, and second, in case someone sees her. But the man who’s finally getting laid for the first time in years thinks, to hell with it. Let a few truckers catch a three-second glimpse of me grabbing those gorgeous tits. It’ll be the highlight of their afternoon.
