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“We are dropping Pest off at Dev’s, then I’m going to finish inventory.”
I ignore the first part. “You’re working very hard, I’m pleasantly surprised.”
“Maddox never does a job half-arsed.” Tempest smiles warmly at my son and I wonder how I could ever have mistaken their affections for anything other than familial. There’s no chemistry between them on the romantic scale.
There’s definitely chemistry between the two of us.
I still need to have a talk with Maddox about his intentions though. His feelings could change and I don’t want to come between them if they do.
Although I wonder if he’ll want anything to do with her should he find out I’ve been inside of her body. It does make for an odd predicament.
Which brings me to my next thought. Birth control. We didn’t use preventative measures at all. I don’t think she’s on anything either.
I feel sick. Why is this only now crossing my mind? I don’t want to be a father again at forty. Jesus fucking Christ… I’m too old to be making these kinds of mistakes. That must also be why it felt so intense with her. I always use protection, always. It’s not because she has an incredible pussy, it’s because it has been years since I rode a girl bareback.
I am such a fool.
If my mood wasn’t bad before it is now.
Tempest
I start my new job this morning. To say I’m excited would be an understatement.
“I’ll drop Tempest at Devon’s Shack,” Sargent insists. “I need to have a word with Devon anyway.”
A look of understanding passes between the men. They seem to be silently speaking with their eyes.
Whatever. I just hope Sargent’s mood elevates during the journey there. Throughout breakfast he just seemed to spiral deeper and deeper into this pit of anger. Maddox noticed it too but neither of us said anything.
Maddox gets an Uber to work or home to pick up a car. I’m not sure, I didn’t ask, I just let Sargent hold open the door of the SUV for me, close it after me and then make his way to his side.
As soon as he drives us out of the carpark and onto the busy street he says two words that have me panicking like a teenager. “Birth control.”
“What… what about it?” I stammer, ignoring the heavy beating of my heart.
“Are you on birth control?”
Fuck. Shit. Bollocks. Wank.
I close my eyes and calm my breathing, trying not to mentally chastise myself too badly. “No. I’m not.”
He slams his hand against the steering wheel, making me jump. “Shit.”
“I’m not pregnant, I’m not ovulating,” I assure him. “But we should really use condoms in future.”
“No future,” he declares quickly. “No more. Whatever happened, it can’t happen again.”
I try not to feel too hurt by that but it doesn’t seem fair. “Why?”
“Because I don’t make mistakes like that.”
Okay, this time I cannot hide my hurt because, ouch. “Well, at least I know where I stand.”
“That’s not—”
I cut him off, “Perhaps you could refrain from accosting me in the utility room should you not wish to pursue this further.”
I see a muscle tick in his jaw as his handsome profile and blue eyes pierce the road ahead.
He doesn’t reply and I don’t push him for a response. What’s the point?
“Thank you for giving me a ride to work,” I say softly, trying to portray that whatever happened between us there are no hard feelings. He doesn’t reply and that pisses me off. We tangoed together. I didn’t tell him to ditch the condoms. “If you want me to get the morning-after pill, or something, I will. I’m not trying to trap you with some pregnancy I don’t want. Okay? I want to go back to traveling. I can’t do that with a kid.” He still doesn’t reply. “But you’ll have to book it and pay for it because I don’t have the money and I don’t know any local doctors that will supply the pill.”
“How is your sexual health?” He keeps his tone casual, it doesn’t stop me from bristling at his words though.
“How’s yours?”
“I was tested two months ago. I’m vigilant,” he replies, looking at me briefly. “I have to be because I fuck a different woman every week, but I always use protection.”
He fucks a different woman every week. Jesus. I’m just a number to him, aren’t I?
“You?” he asks cautiously.
“I’m clean.”
“That’s not what I was asking.”
“You want to know the last time I had sex? That’s really none of your business.”
“It is if it puts my health at risk.”
“I have sex with a different guy every week too,” I lie, not wanting to seem virginal, prudish, and pathetic. “But I use protection.”
His lips twitch as though my words amuse him. “So why did you tell me it had been a while?”
“It’s been a couple of months.” Die with the lie, I chant, having learned it from a movie. “That’s a while for me. I normally don’t go more than three days.”
