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Wren
Ezra jumped up from hischair at the kitchen table to throw himself at my legs. “Pretty, Mommy!” he shrieked.
I picked up my boy, relieved his face wasn’t covered in something sticky that might have transferred onto my pants. It looked like eggs and toast were on his menu for breakfast this morning. My black trousers and emerald green cardigan were safe for now.
“Why thank you, angel face. You’re rather dashing yourself.” I booped his nose, making him laugh. “Are you, by any chance, a real, live prince?”
He shook his head, sending his curls into a frenzy. “Nope. I’m a painter like Bob.”
I smacked my forehead. “Duh, of course you are.” I wondered if Bob Ross was a hero to any other three-year-olds. Maybe in 1982. “You have the same hairdo as Bob. I should have known.”
Ezra proudly reached up and tugged on his frizzy ringlets. “You like my hair?”
“You know I do. I’m jealous I don’t have curls too.”
He touched my hair so gently and reverently, I could have cried. “You have pretty hair too, Mommy.”
I didn’t know what I’d done right to get a son like this one, but it must have been something huge. He’d been born sweet and had only grown sweeter.
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I’m going to tuck that compliment in my pocket and take it out later when I need a little pick-me-up.” I plucked the air and put my hand in my pocket, sending Ezra into another fit of laughter. Fortunately, my sense of humor did well with three-year-olds.
Jenny walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “You do look nice, babe. Did you put in a little extra time with the curling iron?” Her brow went up, and it wasn’t exactly in a kind way. She was more than a little annoyed with me for not coming clean to Callum yet.
“I did. My sort-of boss, Natalie, seems to always have something to say about my appearance. Meanwhile, she looks like she stepped off the set ofMad Men.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “She sounds like a piece of work, and not someone you should compare yourself to.”
“Believe me, there’s no comparing.”
I set Ezra on his feet and kissed his forehead. He promised to be a good boy at preschool and made me promise to be a good girl at work. Jenny gave me a pointed look at that promise, which I mostly ignored. After bundling up, I grabbed my bag and blew another kiss to Ezra, then I hurried out the door to make a dash for my train.
I stopped short at the idling SUV and the rock star leaning against it. When his eyes locked on mine, he opened the back door and held out a hand.
“Holy granola,” I murmured.
I slowly walked down the rest of the steps to the sidewalk, unsure if this was real.
“Uh…hi?” I croaked.
“Good mornin’. Are you ready to go to work?” he asked.
I exhaled a slow breath, forming a cloud in front of me. “Yeah, I am.” Stepping off the sidewalk, I peered into the empty back seat, then at Callum. “Are you taking me?”
His nostrils flared slightly. “Yeah, Wren. I’m takin’ you to work. Climb in. Your nose is red already.”
My gloved hand flew up to cover my nose. “Well, okay. Thank you, Callum.” I had to step up to get into the SUV, and Callum braced his hand on the small of my back, giving me a little push. He climbed in after me and closed us in the warm space. The driver pulled away from the curb as soon as we were settled.
I turned my head to look at Callum. “Your nose is red too. Your cheeks too.”
He shifted so his back was against his door and he was facing me. Taking my gloved hand in his, he rubbed it on his cheek. “Warm me up then.”
I liked it. I let him continue using my hand, wishing I wasn’t wearing the glove so I could really feel his skin. He was like a cat, rubbing against me, almost purring. He didn’t try to stifle the pleasure he was taking from the simple stroke of leather against his cheek. He watched me with curious, unabashed eyes.
“You really are stalking me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” His brow crinkled. “What makes you say that?”
I huffed a laugh. “You showed up at my house this morning and I don’t remember giving you my address.”
