9. Braxton
9
brAXTON
I swallow hard as I hear Sofia’s friend call me sexy, and I blush harder than I have since I was a teenager. The heat doesn’t dissipate as I imagine throwing Sofia over my shoulder, carrying her up my stairs, and tossing her onto my bed.
Fuck, it’s idiotic to let myself fall down that rabbit hole. Again.
Even if I’ve had to yank myself back from thinking about her creamy skin and what it would taste like for the last four days without reprieve.
I’m a bad friend. A really fucking bad friend. I hear her say, “Shut up. He’s my dad’s friend.”
It’s all in my head, the tension I feel when I’m around her. It has to be. Nothing can come of this attraction, especially when it’s one-sided.
This sucks. I haven’t really thought about another woman since Bethany left. Not like this. Not for longer than taking myself in my hand and finding some kind of relief.
No, I spend too much time being a single dad. Worrying over how Birdie might react if I went on a date. If I brought somebody home. If she witnessed me moving on in any way.
Not that I’m hung up on Bethany. I gave up on waiting for her to come home before the first year mark hit. But I’m not sure whether Birdie has.
She’s the reason I haven’t filed for divorce. I can, legally, for abandonment, but I don’t want to do that to Birdie until she’s ready.
I’ve settled myself by the time I make it home, sitting with Birdie on the couch until bedtime and keeping my thoughts diverted until they swarm me in bed. I let myself swim in the fantasy of Sofia’s hands smoothing over my shoulders, my chest, my stomach, until she takes a hold of me. Her mouth is a sweet, hot beacon as she plants kisses along my flesh.
It doesn’t take me long to succumb to it. To her.
God, this isn’t going away.
And it refuses to leave me, to lift even an ounce of its weight from clawing at my back all weekend until she’s here on my doorstep. Sofia’s bright smile is a flame ready to devour me.
“Hey. Come on in. Birdie is in her room.”
Sofia pulls on a small arm beside her, and her son, Noah, steps out from behind her feet to look up at me. Once they’re both inside, she closes the door behind her, leaving us so, so close together. The shared moment of eye contact has me stuck in place. I desperately want to touch her. Just a gentle stroke up her neck, along her jaw. To tilt her face up so I can capture her mouth with mine…
I step back and bend down to offer my hand to her son. He’s got big blue eyes like hers, although his hair and complexion are darker.
“Hey, little man. I’m Braxton.”
He looks up at Sofia, who nods, and back to me before giving me his hand. “I’m Noah.”
“Nice to meet you, bud.” His smile is so much like Sofia’s, too, but a little softer and less sure of himself.
I stand, meeting Sofia’s gaze again. Her eyes sparkle at me, and that tension drenches me again.
“I’ll let you get to it. I’m just going to be in my office.” I point to the rear of the house behind the kitchen. “If you need me for anything.”
“What are you working on?” Sofia sets down her bag and ruffles Noah’s hair, watching and waiting for my answer.
“Grading, mostly. I have to build my slides for the presentation as well.” I sink my hands into my pockets. It’s the only way to keep from touching her.
“Mmm. I don’t envy you. I’d hate to be stuck behind a pile of grading, and I equally don’t like giving presentations.” She sighs. “Much to both of my parents’ extreme dissatisfaction.”
I know she’s joking. Charles is the most supportive person I’ve ever met. “I doubt that.”
Again, her grin appears in her eyes more than on her mouth. “I didn’t say they aren’t proud of my choices, but they hoped I would follow them into academia.”
I can feel my mouth quirk. “And there’s no future where you would teach people to do what you do?”
She must see that I’ve caught her a little bit because she’s already started with my daughter, who has been setting her phone up to film her painting process. Sofia shakes her head. “I see your game, Braxton. Don’t think that I don’t.”
Her finger points at me, and her son laughs. “Naughty finger.”
That cracks a laugh out of me. She must point at him when he’s naughty.
“Come on, Goblin, want to go meet Birdie?”
He nods enthusiastically, and she winks at me before she leads him upstairs.
I try not to watch those bare legs as she climbs. I fucking fail.
Forcing myself back to my office, I attack a small stack of design proposals for one of my sophomore classes. I make notes and offer questions for the next stage of their projects. It takes an hour to get through half of them.
I stand and stretch, and immediately, my mind falls to Sofia. This is quickly becoming an obsession that will get me in trouble. It pulls me out of the office, and I’m surprised to find the three of them in the kitchen.
Birdie’s never shown an interest in learning how to cook, but she used to love frosting cookies and baking brownies out of a box with her mom.
She’s scooping a chunk of something out of a bowl to stick in her mouth. The face she makes is pure joy.
Sofia turns to catch me leaning against the doorway behind the fridge. “I hope you don’t mind. We’re making chocolate chip cookies.”
“I don’t mind at all.” God, my voice comes out raspy and gruff. Birdie tilts her head at me like she’s caught it, even if she doesn’t understand what it means.
Sofia waves me closer and offers me a spoon with some dough on it. I laugh as I take it. It’s better than the store-bought stuff.
Then, she offers Birdie an ice cream scoop and shows her how to plop dough onto a lined baking sheet.
“That’s not ours.” I nod to the contraption.
“No. I brought it from home, just like the chocolate chips, butter, and cream cheese.” Sofia blinks meaningfully at me. “Didn’t know what you had, so I wanted to make sure. Birdie and I talked about cookies last time I was here.”
I linger, liking the initiative she’s taken to connect with my daughter. How she’s perfectly at ease showing her how to fill the baking sheet. How well behaved Noah is as he waits his turn. He does sneak a taste of the baking soda, though, and his face is one of regret, but he doesn’t cry or throw a fit.
Sofia helps him to the sink to rinse his mouth out, and they giggle together.
I’m behind her, setting my spoon in the sink.
She turns to smile at me. “I’ll bring you one when they’re ready.”
Nodding, I say, “I appreciate it.”
I back away to close myself in the office again. Leaning my forehead against the door and wiping a hand down my face, I tell myself that I need to get my shit together.
Rubbing my beard, I march back to my desk and pull up my presentation. I can put words on slides at the least with my brain the way it is. It proves to be a good distraction. Getting everything into a project before I start the formatting and design elements is always my process. Easier to fit a design around what I have rather than forcing what I have into a design.
Once I have everything input, there’s a knock at my door. “Come in.”
Sofia peeks in through a crack and holds up a cookie on a napkin.
I wave her forward and enjoy the way she takes stock of the room. It’s simple—maple bookshelves along one wall, a U-shaped desk in the corner for me and my double monitors, the pile of papers, and some lingering projects I’ve kept for inspiration. My bank of filing cabinets sits along the half wall beside the window.
Her smile is put-on innocence as she presents me with the cookie. Our fingers brush, and this time, I don’t fight the heat it causes.
Blue eyes darken as her pupils widen.
That tension returns. I’m not just imagining it .
Sofia bites her lip. “Dinner will be ready in a half hour. Just a heads up.”
I nod. “Thank you, Sofia.”
“No problem.” She winks and spins in place to saunter out of my office and close the door quietly behind herself with one last glance over her shoulder.
Fuck, I’m half hard just from that much of her attention. I adjust myself and take a bite of the cookie. God, it’s still warm. The chocolate is melted in the soft, gooey center.
I sit in the stupor of devouring this treat as slowly as possible before I turn back to my presentation.
True to her word, Sofia knocks again twenty-seven minutes later to tell me dinner’s ready. I follow her out with only a slight hesitation.
Birdie is setting the table. I’ll have to pay Sofia extra for cooking. We could have easily ordered something.
“Dad. Did you get a cookie?”
“I did.”
“They are so good. Aren’t they? Noah has some serious baking skills. He can scoop cookie dough so much better than I can.” She sets the last plate on the table and smiles at the boy, who is climbing into a chair and beaming at her.
“I like cookies,” he says.
“You like food, Goblin.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He nods with emphasis, and I like him. I like having both of them here and how familiar this feels.
“A man after my own heart. I also like food.” I pat my stomach and catch the face Sofia pulls.
“You, sir, are not able to get away with that like you have any extra pounds on you. Nuh-uh. Not happening around a genuine big girl. Okay?” She waves a clean spatula at me.
“I’ve been told I’m a genuine big guy, Sofia. It’s hard to argue that point.” Most of it might be muscle, and I have to cut off the thought of how badly I want to prove it to her.
She narrows her eyes at me playfully before she pivots. “Come grab your plates. I’ve dished up first servings.”
Two plates lift in her hands as Birdie squeezes by to grab her own. I take the last one, spying another half tray of Shepard’s pie on the stovetop and the bottom third of a salad on the counter.
Dinner is a delight. Sofia is quick-witted, firing flirty jabs at me, silly ones at Birdie, and motherly ones at Noah. She has all of us laughing through the meal. But the way she stares into me when she pokes at me has me on edge as we near bedtime.
Birdie gives Sofia a hug before she goes up for her nightly shower. Noah is asleep on the couch, and Sofia has everything packed away by the door as she waits for her father to come pick her up.
“I can always give you a ride home if you need it.”
“It’s okay. He’s on his way home from school, anyway. Late-night research is his favorite Sunday evening activity.” She leans against the door, and it takes all of my strength not to crowd her.
“I know we haven’t specifically talked about the conference, but I trust you to take care of Birdie for an entire weekend. If you’ll take the job.” My hands are fists in my pockets.
“Yeah, I’d love to. Which weekend?”
“Not next weekend, but the one after that.”
“I can do that.” Her voice is suddenly softer.
Mine dips, too, when I say, “I won’t be home until late that Sunday.”
I swear she shivers a little.
Headlights flash behind her in the window panels beside the door. She doesn’t turn, maintaining eye contact for an extended beat. Her lip pulls between her teeth, and I’m so goddam tempted to pull her lip free with a kiss.
When the lights go dark, I pull away, sucking in a deep breath and pivoting to scoop Noah up from the couch. He’s light and easy to carry to Charles’s car.
I nod a hello to my friend as he rolls down the window.
“Conked out, is he?”
“Sugar crash, I do believe,” I offer with a small smile.
“He does like cookies.”
That makes all three of us chuckle as I slip him into his car seat and buckle him in. I turn back to Sofia, and the smile she gives me tightens every muscle in my body. Her hand finds my arm as she leans closer.
My body screams with the want to touch her back.
“Thank you, Braxton.”
“My pleasure, Sofia.” My words should not be this rough, this telling. I slip away from the car and turn to watch them go.
Sofia pauses at her door, looking at me for another moment before sinking into her seat and grinning at her dad.
My best friend.
God, I am so fucked.