Chapter Fourteen
I’ll hand it to Lola; my ten-year-old kept the secret for the rest of the night and the first five minutes of breakfast this morning. That’s an entire week for an adult.
It’s not that I want my daughter to lie. I didn’t make that request. On the way home from Build a Bowl, I asked her not to mention seeing Maren because I wasn’t in the mood to answer Tia’s questions. I know it’s controversial, but when it suits me, I stand on the side of the omission of truth not being an actual lie. Will I support the other side of that argument when Lola’s a teenager? Absolutely.
Parenting is the art of hypocrisy.
“We’re going to see a cat after Dad gets home from work,” Lola announces between bites of her cheese-and-mushroom omelet.
Tia and Amos eye her before looking to me for further explanation while I chew my toast.
“A friend from work has a new cat.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.
Like I haven’t been texting Maren all week.
Like I’m not dying to sneak around with her again.
“Does this friend live close by?” Tia asks diplomatically, but I know she already has her back up at just the mention of me having a friend.
In Tia’s mind, I’m not allowed to have anything or anyone outside Lola. And she’s right; Lola is enough. But who lives life confined to merely enough?
“She’s twenty-five minutes away,” Lola replies.
“She?”
“Yes. Her name is Maren. She’s a pilot who fights fires. Dad fixes her plane. And she has a cat named Bandit. I said the cat’s middle name should be Mouse because I’d name it Mouse if I had a cat. And guess what?” Lola widens her eyes in irresistible animation. “Maren said Bandit’s middle name can be Mouse!”
Amos chuckles. “That’s nice of her.”
“When did you talk with this Maren person?” Tia pulls out her dick, which is twice the size of Amos’s, and pisses all over the conversation. Only Lola doesn’t see that. She doesn’t understand why I didn’t want her to say anything about Maren.
Lola’s eyes bug out. I call it her oh-shit-I’m-in-trouble face. Well, I don’t tell her that’s what I call it, but it’s one of her signature expressions. With this one expression, Tia knows I told her not to say anything. Now I’m guilty of telling my daughter to keep secrets (a.k.a. lie), and I’m guilty of having a female friend.
“When we went to Build a Bowl after Lola’s appointment with Victoria, we saw Maren there.”
Tia twists her dry, wrinkled lips and hums. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence?”
We have no alcohol in the house, but I sure could use a drink. No wonder Amos gets his rocks off to late-night porn. This woman is an anti-erection. The original ballbuster.
I bet if they have sex, she ties him to the bed and gags him.
“What’s that look?” Tia asks.
“Huh?” I narrow my eyes.
“You winced,” she says.
I thought of you having sex, Tia. It’s pretty fucking cringeworthy.
“Nothing. Does anyone want the rest of the orange juice?” I hold up the small glass pitcher with a few ounces left.
No one answers, so I pour the rest into my glass and carry it, along with my plate, to the kitchen.
“Don’t let her guilt you, son.” Amos sets his plate on the counter and opens the dishwasher.
“I haven’t done anything to feel guilty about. Am I not allowed to have acquaintances?”
He chuckles while I hand him the dirty dishes. “Some days, Tia resents the air you breathe. So anything more than that feels extravagant to her. She just misses Brynn.”
“Well, I miss her too. But I don’t know what more I can say or do. I don’t know what level of misery I must endure to satisfy Tia’s need to see me suffer.”
“What are you two talking about?” Tia asks as she and Lola haul more dishes into the kitchen.
“I was just asking Ozzy if he’s recently had his prostate checked. But now that I think about it, he’s still young.”
Tia frowns, sizing up her lying husband.
“Dad, I need help with homework,” Lola says.
“You two go do that. Tia and I will clean this up.” Amos shoos us toward the stairs.
“Lola, we have to leave for school in ten minutes. Why didn’t you mention your homework last night?” I ask.
When we reach the basement, I follow Lola to her bedroom. She pivots at the door and lowers her voice. “I don’t have homework.”
She’s ten.
I think it a lot, but this girl is too astute and clever to be only ten. Brynn would be proud of her. She always knew Lola was intelligent beyond her years.
“You know this will come back to haunt you when you try the homework excuse on me in the future,” I say.
“I do need you to sign the permission form for track-and-field day. So it’s not a whole lie. It’s not technically homework, so it’s half a lie. See how good I am at math?”
I grab her head and kiss the top of it. “Get the form, and let’s go.”
“Can we get ice cream from Swirls on the way to Maren’s after school?”
I stop at my bedroom door. “Swirls isn’t on our way. You need to work on geography.”
“Remember, asking too many personal questions is not polite.” I do a final prep with Lola after school when we’re a block from Maren’s house.
“You mean it’s not polite to embarrass you?”
Yes.
“No. That’s not what I mean, but that’s a good rule too.”
“I hope Bandit likes me.”
“I hope so, too, but cats can be finicky.”
The driveway is full of vehicles when we arrive. I’m meeting her roommates with my daughter. Fantastic.
What could go wrong?
Maren steps outside in an oversize gray T-shirt and white leggings, hair pulled into a ponytail. “Hey!”
We park our bikes on the walkway, just past the vehicles, and remove our helmets.
“Where’s Bandit?” Lola asks.
“Let’s start with hello.” I stand behind Lola, resting my hands on her shoulders.
“Hello. Where’s Bandit?”
Maren laughs. “He’s in the shed out back. Follow me.” Her gaze lingers on me while she walks past us. It’s mischievous and sexy.
“Oh! Dad, get the gift out,” Lola says, spinning toward me.
I nod several times, retrieving six stalks of rhubarb from the pack attached to my bike. They’re tied with hemp string.
Lola hands them to Maren. “My dad said it’s polite to bring a gift when you visit someone’s house for the first time.”
Maren’s gaze shoots to me. “Thank you. Your dad is something else.”
I wink, and Maren leads us to the backyard.
“Looks like you have a full house tonight,” I say.
“Yeah. Will starts his next shift in the morning. He’ll be leaving for his tai chi class soon. And Fitz and Jamie are eating an early dinner before checking out a few houses. But I just know they will make an offer on my house.”
“The one with the cat tree house?”
“Yes.” She unlocks the shed door and opens it.
“It’s a bedroom!” Lola covers her mouth.
“Yes. It’s called a she shed. I used to sleep out here, and then my friend Jamie stayed out here; now it’s Bandit’s room.”
We step inside, and Lola’s world explodes with glitter, rainbows, and butterflies.
“That’s the kitten, that’s the kitten, that’s the kitten!” Lola scoops the kitten off the bed, kissing his head. “You saved my kitten!”
Maren tears up, as she did at the restaurant when Lola mentioned the scars on her face. I’m not entirely immune to this moment, either, but I won’t cry. It’s just a cat.
“I saved your kitten, but my roommate is allergic to cats, so that’s why Bandit must live in the shed, which is obviously just a really cool bedroom. And I spend lots of time in here with him, so he never feels abandoned.”
“It’s a cool shed.” Lola nods.
“Do you want to come meet my roommates before they leave?” Maren asks.
“Can I bring Bandit?”
“Lola, she just said Bandit can’t be in the house,” I remind her with my own exaggerated eye roll.
Lola doesn’t even look up from the cat. “If I go inside and meet them, do I have to stay for adult talk ? Or can I come back out here with Bandit?”
I close my eyes and shake my head.
Maren laughs. “You can absolutely come back out here. Adult talk is pretty boring.”
“Fine,” Lola says with an exasperated sigh, following us to the house.
A dark-haired woman jumps away from the window, hand tangled in the window blind’s lift cord.
“Were you spying on me?” Maren asks as we step into the house.
The woman blushes, her gaze ping-ponging between Maren, Lola, and me as she backs into the kitchen. “No. I was just ...”
“Yes. She’s been watching the whole time,” a guy in jeans and a Missoula Smoke Jumper hoodie says, leaning against the counter while eating a piece of what looks like old pizza.
“Snitch,” the dark-haired woman says, turning and stealing a bite of his pizza.
He smirks at her, wiping her mouth with the pad of his thumb. She teasingly nibbles it.
I need to get laid.
“These are two of my roommates, Jamie and Fitz. Well, Calvin , but we call him Fitz. And this is Ozzy and his daughter, Lola,” Maren says, setting the rhubarb on the counter.
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” Jamie offers her hand to me and then to Lola. “Did you meet Bandit?”
Lola nods with wide eyes.
Fitz gives us a quick smile with a “Hey.”
“Oh, the house thieves?” I ask.
Jamie narrows her eyes at Maren. “You don’t need a three-bedroom house.”
“Neither do you.” Maren retrieves a container from the freezer and peels off the lid. “Lola, do you want a cookie–ice cream sandwich?”
“Yes, please,” Lola says with wide eyes, taking one when Maren holds out the container.
She offers one to me too.
“I’m good. Thanks. Did you make those with the leftover cookies you baked?”
Maren’s gaze shoots to Jamie and Fitz, and Jamie smiles, while Fitz narrows his eyes.
“Um, yeah. No. I mean, Jamie made them into ice cream sandwiches,” Maren says, fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt.
“Are you a real smoke jumper?” Lola asks Fitz before licking the side of the ice cream sandwich.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and clears his throat after swallowing. “I am.”
“My class took a tour of the museum.” She frowns. “But I didn’t get to go because I don’t ride in buses. My friends said it was super cool.”
“Get your dad to bring you sometime. If I’m there, you can have a private tour,” Fitz says.
“Tomorrow?” Lola looks at me.
I shake my head. “You have school. When school is out, we can do it.” I nod toward the door. “Why don’t you take that out back, so you don’t drip onto the floor? But make sure your hands aren’t sticky when you return to the shed with the cat.”
“His name is Bandit,” Lola says, pivoting toward the door as I open it for her.
“Are you stealing my house tonight or waiting?” Maren asks Jamie and Fitz, returning the container to the freezer.
Jamie shakes her head. “The house we’re seeing tonight is going to be better anyway. So you and your cat can have the tree house.” She pulls back her shoulders with confidence.
“Unless it’s not. Then we’re making an offer,” Fitz says, stealing Jamie’s can of strawberry-basil Aura Bora sparkling water from her hand.
Maren sticks her tongue out at Fitz and then quickly composes herself. “Can I get you something to drink?” She opens the fridge to survey what she has to offer me.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
She uncorks a bottle of wine and pours a half glass.
“We have to get going,” Jamie says. “I hope we can spend more time with you, Ozzy.”
I smile, and Fitz pulls her toward the door. “Me too,” I say. “See ya.”
As the door clicks shut behind them, Maren faces me, taking a sip of wine before setting the glass on the counter and resting her hands on the edge of it. “Something weird happened when I worked my last shift. The unfamiliarity shook me.”
“What’s that?” I ask, sliding my hands into my back pockets.
“I missed a guy.”
“Lucky guy.”
“Right?” She bites her bottom lip.
“I bet he missed you too.”
Her head cocks to the side. “You think?”
“Definitely.”
Maren makes me feel alive with every flirty glance and restrained smile.
“Will’s upstairs.”
I nod. “Lola’s outside.”
The tension is palpable. God, my hands itch to touch her.
Maren covers her face and makes a noise that sounds like the marriage between a laugh and a groan. “Sorry. I’m struggling. I don’t know how to navigate this.” She drops her hands and sighs.
“Navigate what?”
“These feelings combined with our living situations.” She tucks her chin. “This is embarrassing. I’m a grown woman. What is wrong with me?”
I glance out the back window before closing the space between us. “Tell me about your feelings.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “They’re not emotional feelings. I don’t need therapy. They’re ...” Lifting her gaze to mine, she wrinkles her nose. “Physical.”
“Physical? Like this?” I feather my knuckles along her cheek.
“Kind of,” she murmurs.
“Or this?” My fingers ghost down her neck.
“Kind of,” she whispers before wetting her lips.
I slide my hand down her arm to her waist and pause for a second, taking another glance out the back window just as Lola licks her fingers before opening the door to the shed. Then I snake my hand up the inside of Maren’s T-shirt, teasing the skin along her ribs until I reach her bra.
Again, I pause.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.
I cup her breast over her bra, and my heart channels all the blood in my body straight to my dick. My thumb traces the outline of her hard nipple beneath the thin material. “Like this?” I whisper.
Her eyelids blink heavily. “Yes.”
This is nice. Too nice.
I’m out of my mind in the best possible way.
I pull my hand from her shirt and turn, scratching my head a half dozen times while cringing. “Nope. No, no, no. I’m torturing myself. This is a bad idea. Or a good idea at the worst time. What am I doing?” I take several steps away from Maren and then pivot back toward her. “I’m sorry.” I exhale a harsh breath and lace my fingers behind my head.
A slow smile blooms along her face. “Ozzy, I like our slow dance. I hate it, too, but mostly I like it. I feel like you’ve blindfolded me and tied me up. And every time we see each other, you feed me a morsel of something irresistible, leaving me a little satisfied but always wanting more.”
I blurt my confession. “I haven’t had sex in over two years.”
Real smooth. Idiot!
Maren lifts her eyebrows. “I’m ...” She purses her lips and slowly shakes her head. “Well, I’m not surprised. But it’s pretty much how I’m sure you remember. All the parts connect like they did two years ago.”
I laugh, arms flopping to my sides. “That’s, uh, good to hear. Are there no new trends I should know about?”
She keeps a straight face—all business. “It’s still the preferred method of procreation and recreation. It’s still good.” She lights up. “I recommend it.”
“But are you good at it?”
“I’m the best you’ve never had,” she says with a sexy confidence.
I rest a hand on my hip and drop my head with a laugh. “I don’t doubt that.”
“Ozzy?”
When I lift my gaze, her expression softens. It’s honest and genuine.
“I don’t expect anything from you. Lola is and should be your priority. Every second I get to steal is bliss, but it’s just extra in my life. I don’t need you like she does. So if I’ve ever made you feel bad about not calling or texting, please forgive me.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t feel bad for me. Don’t settle for anything less than being with someone who makes you feel special and needed. I think you’re very special. And maybe I’m the one who needs you. Have you considered that?”
Her lips part, and she begins to say something but stops. Instead, she steps in front of me and takes my hand, sliding it back up her shirt.
I grin.
She does too. Then she lifts onto her toes. I meet her halfway and press my lips to hers in a slow kiss, slipping my hand into the cup of her bra, eliciting a soft moan. She jumps away from me, quickly fixing her bra.
In the next breath, a guy strolls into the kitchen. Maren either has Spidey sense, or she heard a floor creak that I did not.
He smiles before yawning, covering his mouth with a fist.
Maren clears her throat. “Hey, Will, this is Ozzy. Ozzy, Will. He owns the house.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
He fills a water bottle from the fridge spigot. “You too. Are you the mechanic?”
“Are there others?” I tuck my hands in my front pockets, discreetly adjusting my dying erection. “I’m the mechanic. Is there a chef? A teacher? A doctor?”
“There’s a Professor Gray Balls—”
“William, shut it,” Maren says.
“No others. You’re the only one willing to put up with her. I don’t know if I should say congratulations or condolences.” He meets Maren’s scowl and offers her a smirk. “I’ll just say good luck, buddy.”
I laugh, and it earns me a scowl, too, so I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “I should check on Lola.”
“Wait, are you the period guy?” Will narrows his eyes.
“We definitely should check on Lola,” Maren says, grabbing my arms and trying to turn and push me toward the door.
“Bathroom attendant, but I get what you’re asking. Yes, I’m him,” I say to Will while submitting to Maren’s forceful attempt to escort me from the kitchen.
“You’ve told your roommates about me,” I say as she shuts the back door behind us. “I’m flattered. Good ears, by the way. I didn’t hear him coming down the stairs.”
Maren faces me when we reach the shed. “I’ve caught all of my roommates in much more compromising positions. Part of me wanted him to see us because I don’t think they believe me when I say a guy is interested in me. I jumped away so you wouldn’t feel embarrassed meeting Will with your hand up my shirt and your tongue in my mouth.”
I cock my head to the side. “Why wouldn’t they believe I’m interested in you?”
“He asked if you were the period guy. Isn’t it obvious that I’m a hot mess?”
Before I can answer, she opens the shed door. Lola is cuddled on the bed with the kitten, and he’s purring while she pets him. “Can we take him home?”
“He’s Maren’s,” I say.
“Just for one night? Like a sleepover.”
Maren sits on the edge of the bed. “Maybe you can watch him for me if I have to go out of town for a few days. If it’s okay with your dad?”
Lola’s big eyes find me. Doesn’t Maren know never to suggest something directly to a child under the premise of “if it’s okay with your dad?”
How can I say no at this point?
“We’ll see.” It’s my go-to answer that buys me time but very little peace. Lola will fixate on this until I make a promise in blood. “We should head home, Lola.”
“I need to go to the bathroom first.” She cups her hands around her lips and mouths Poop to me.
“Here. I’ll show you the restroom.” Maren stands, setting the kitten on the floor.
“I’ll wait here,” I say.
Maren takes Lola to the house and returns a minute later. “Should I have waited inside the house with her?” She pauses just inside the door.
“She’ll be a while,” I say. “There’s nothing quick about her using the bathroom. Even when she’s done, she’ll spend five minutes washing her hands and talking to herself in the mirror.”
“I love that,” Maren says, closing the door. “I used to talk to myself in the mirror when I was her age.”
I sit at the end of the bed and pick up Bandit, but he squirms out of my hands and hides under the bed.
“He knows you tried to let him die.” Maren crosses her arms over her chest. I stare at her. After a few seconds, she narrows her eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just imagining things.”
“What things?”
I shrug. “They’re a little inappropriate, so I’d rather not say.”
Her face flushes, and she fiddles with her ponytail. “Stop.”
“I’m tired of stopping. Aren’t you?” I stand.
She retreats a step, and her back hits the door.
“Don’t look at me like that when your daughter will be back any minute.”
“She’ll be a while.” I duck my head and kiss her soft lips.
Maren breaks the kiss and grips my shirt. “Is this a good idea?” she whispers before kissing my neck.
Two. Fucking. Years.
She’s killing me.
I wrap her ponytail around my hand and gently tug until her neck stretches, giving me full access to her mouth again.
We kiss harder than we have thus far; an urgency burns between us. My other hand dips down the front of her leggings and into her underwear.
She moans, tightening her grip on my shirt.
This is the wrong time. Wrong place. Hell, it’s probably the wrong life.
But I can’t bring myself to care. Clarity is never punctual.
I like to flesh out my résumé for Father of the Year. Only a man with my elite set of skills, including morally sound decisions and impeccable timing, would attempt to get a woman off while his daughter uses the restroom.
The mind is an unsupervised playground, and mine has Maren naked. It’s not my hand between her legs; it’s my mouth. That one thought sends my tongue deep into her throat.
She releases my shirt and grips my hair instead. Then she looks for something else to hold as she squirms, breaking our kiss. Labored breaths fall from her lips while her hands smack the door, and I release her hair. Her head lolls side to side, pupils dilated, face tense.
I rest my free hand on the door just above her head, and we point our gazes to my other hand in her pants, her hips jerking against my touch.
“Oh god,” she whispers while her fingernails scrape the wood, and her chest heaves over and over. “Don’t stop, Ozzy. Don’t ... stop ...”
She’s wet and warm around my fingers as I move them in and out of her, as her soft flesh pulses and grips me with her release.
If I sneeze or even clear my throat, I’ll come because watching her orgasm is mind blowing. So I hold my breath while slowly withdrawing my hand from her pants. Maren breathlessly slides down the door to her butt, hugging her knees to her chest.
I rest my forearms on the door and close my eyes, ruining the moment out of necessity with visions of Tia’s scowl and roadkill—anything to quickly alleviate the situation and compose myself before Lola returns.
“Thank you,” Maren says with her blue eyes pointed up at me when I open mine.
I’m speechless. Sometimes, I shock myself with this level of self-torture. Instead of words, I return a slight “Mm-hm” and offer her my hand.
She straightens her leggings when she’s on her feet again. I pull a card from my pocket and hand it to her.
Maren’s face explodes into a blinding smile as she takes it.
Rhubarb is a vegetable, not a fruit. And you can hear it grow. Hope you love them!
Ozzy x
“Ozzy,” she starts to say just as the door handle turns.
Jesus, that was close.
Maren jumps away from the door like it might bite her ass. And I’d be jealous because, in my NSFW thoughts, I want to bite her ass.
“Can we come back tomorrow?” Lola asks.
I point for her to head toward the front of the house. “You’re being greedy.”
Halfway around the house, I glance back at Maren. She’s fixing her ponytail, and it makes me smirk.
“Don’t look so smug,” she murmurs before narrowing her eyes.
Smug isn’t the right word. I’m going with lucky bastard . I have a nice reel to replay in my head when I’m in the shower, catching a few minutes of me-time. Maren’s pinched eyes and parted, full lips nearly brought me to my knees when she orgasmed.
I shrug, palms up.
When we reach the bikes, Maren stays laser focused on me as if the slightest shift in facial expression will signal I’m gloating.
I’m not. Really.
If anything, I’m trying to avoid all eye contact so that my dick stays limp for a more comfortable journey home. “Well.” I close one eye and scratch my eyelid before rubbing my forehead, gazing at the ground. “Thanks for letting Lola meet Bandit.”
Thanks for the kiss.
Thanks for letting me get to second base in the kitchen.
Thanks for letting me explore third base in the shed.
You have terrific bases.
“Anytime. It was my pleasure,” Maren says.
“Clearly,” I mutter under my breath.
She teed it up. How could I not take a swing?
“Did you say something, Ozzy?” Maren crosses her arms, flipping out her hip.
I cave, giving her the quickest of glances, tongue poking into my cheek to disguise my lucky-bastard (smug) grin.
“Bye, Maren.” Lola walks her bike past the Bronco in the driveway.
“Later, Lola.”
I don’t wait for a farewell because I don’t think Maren’s offering one to me. I love that she’s on the defensive over an orgasm. A little bit of guilt never hurt anyone. I follow Lola instead of telling Maren that I’m headed home for a cold shower while she changes her underwear.