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Cody, it was.
Grayson came out, and the spring-loaded door slammed shut.
“My turn!” Ivy stormed the bathroom like a warrior princess.
It was me and Grayson. He was a subdued kid, which I didn’t expect after his outburst in the diner. Was it losing his mother? How long ago did it happen?
He practiced bowing.
“Good.” I dropped to a stage bow. Usually, I was topless with nothing but pasties or tassels on my nipples, but I was worried even thinking that would give stern Cody Knight a brain hemorrhage.
Grayson and I bowed and tossed our imaginary audience kisses. He giggled, and I got a glimpse of a lively kid who wanted to come out and play but had to learn to handle living without his mother. Ivy joined us when she came out.
I lost track of time, loving the fake finale we were making, when a deep “Thanks again” startled me.
I put my hand on my heart and jumped. “Ohmigod, you scared me.”
The creases at the corners of his mouth deepened, but this scowl was different. Could it be...humor in his gaze? “Sorry,” he said.
That deep voice of his. I wanted to record it and play it back when I was alone at night. I planned to stay far away from men and relationships, but a girl still had needs.
Inappropriate much, Tova? “No worries. It’s been fun. You have great kids.”
The corner of his mouth almost lifted. “They are great.”
Ivy beamed, then tapped her brother. “Gray, let’s race.” She sprinted for the slide. Grayson darted after her.
Cody didn’t bat an eye. I kept thinking he’d be uptight about kids acting like kids, but this guy wasn’t acting like I expected him to. Except for the scowls.
“Hey, uh,do you know where I can look for a nanny for the summer?”
It took a second to realize he’d directed the question at me. Even with only half of his attention, my belly flipped, then flopped. “I don’t know. I’m not from here.” His gaze sharpened, and the urge to explain myself in a way that wouldn’t cause more questions was too strong. “I just left a bad relationship, and Thelma’s an old family friend. I’m crashing with her until I figure out what to do.”
Normally, I wouldn’t spill so much of my business, but the ol’woman running from man troublestory was usually enough to keep people from digging too deep. They’d all heard similar stories or had their own, and they unconsciously filled in the gaps. The less often I had to evade nosy questions, the better. I wouldn’t be in town long, but Thelma didn’t need the gossip around her.
“You could ask Thelma, though,” I offered. “She would know who’s reliable and who isn’t—and she’ll be happy to tell you.”
The side of his mouth lifted higher for a split second, then his forehead furrowed. His jaw worked like he was going to say something. Finally, he gave his head a shake. “Thank you again. For Hummingbird’s and now.”
“Not a problem. I’m sorry about—Ivy told me about her mom. I’m sure it’s hard on them.” Again, I didn’t know what possessed me to keep talking. God, why had I brought up his late wife? I made a living being attuned to the crowd, but getting a read on this man beyond him being a grim workaholic was like deciphering a blank wall.
“It’ll be a year in September since she died.” His expression flickered. Grief. Regret. Confusion. “We’re not from here either. Just trying to get away for a while.” He shook himself, like he couldn’t believe he’d shared that much. We had that in common. “Anyway, thank you for the suggestion. I’ll talk to Thelma.”
He marched to the slide. The kids looked at me like they were wondering if I’d join them. I executed a perfect curtsy. It wasn’t like me to linger where I wasn’t needed, but turning around and leaving Cody and the kids behind was harder than it should’ve been. We were nothing but strangers. He’d go back to wherever they lived, and as soon as I figured out my financial situation, I’d be gone too.
Three
Cody
I jerked awake, my heart pounding and my dick tenting the blankets in a way it hadn’t done for more than a couple of decades. After being married and getting laid regularly, I hadn’t thought about not getting any. If Meg wasn’t in the mood, I jacked off in the shower. She’d had a lot of headaches—from stress and then from the tumor. After she got sick, and definitely after she died, I locked my libido away.
The fucker snuck out while I was sleeping. Images of creamy, heavy tits swaying over my face while she was riding me filled my head. Only when I was about to dreamgasm did the view of the face clear into sky-blue eyes and a spill of nearly black hair.
Meg’s eyes had been brown. Her hair was mahogany.
I pushed a hand over my face. Dream-fucking a woman I’d just met was a dick move. I didn’t care what anyone said about grief—and during Meg’s funeral and after, they’d had a lot to say—it was wrong.
But for a moment, it had felt so damn right.
