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“Me too. Because I can tell how happy you are being his dad.”
I duck my head, shielding my expression. “It’s obvious?”
She pats the tree. “Well, you built him a tree house.”
“Yeah, I’m definitely a pushover,” I confirm. But maybe I’m an over-sharer too. Fuck, that’s bad. “That was a lot, wasn’t it?”
Jules might be new to sex, but I feel new to…sharing.
“No. It wasn’t.” She goes quiet, but it’s clear the gears are turning in her head. “I was curious last night about your son, but I didn’t want to push. People share things in their own time. And sometimes not at all.”
“It’s hard for me to keep him a secret,” I say.
“You shouldn’t have to. And I’m glad you didn’t,” she adds, and there’s something wistful in her voice. Like she’s wishing this thing could turn into something more. Another night. Another time. Another moment here in the yard.
We’ve jammed so much into less than twenty-four hours. Shared more than most people do over a half-dozen dates.
This was a one-night stand in name only.
If we were other people, I’d take her hand and tug her into a corner by the door, far away from the neighbors, hardly visible, and kiss her against the side of my home. I’d claim her outside by the honeysuckle so we could both inhale the scent of wanting as we fucked.
Then I’d invite her over again.
But that’s not what last night was. This morning and this closeness, this easy connection—they’re scrambling my brain.
“Thanks for listening, Jules.”
She closes the distance between us and sets a hand on my chest, gently grabbing the fabric of my shirt. “Anytime.”
That word feels like a promise we can’t keep, but I wish we could.
* * *
The car service texts that they’re pulling up just as we go inside. I haul Jules against me one more time, then sniff her neck. “Mmm. Your morning scent is good too. You’re like a sexy garden,” I tell her, but I’ve got to stop with the praise. No more compliments. No more kisses. I need to let her go. I clear my throat and step back. “Bye, Jules.”
“Bye…Finn.” She stops, like she’s going to saysee you around.
But really, we probably won’t. Just in case though, I add, “If I see you when you’re with—”
She holds up a hand, stopping me. “—I know. Nothing happened.”
When she pulls away, I’m filled with a bittersweet ache, but soon it’ll fade.
She sets her hand on the doorknob and…fuck. I can’t let her leave on the thought that this was nothing. I spin her around, cup her cheek, and meet her eyes. “Thank you. For last night. For this morning. For letting me have you.”
“I’m glad it was you.”
“You have no idea how glad I am too.”
She shrugs, coyly. “Actually, I think I do.”
She leaves, heading off into the light of day. I turn back into my home where there’s a text blinking up at me from my phone on the counter.
Tate: Five miles. Fastest time ever. See you tomorrow, sloth.
Guilt swells inside me. But I’ll have to find a way to live with it when I see my friend tomorrow morning.
For now, I walk through my kitchen, and it feels empty without his daughter.
