CHAPTER SEVEN
PENELOPE
THERE WAS NO WAY I was wearing vintage Chanel and doing a walk of shame in Ward Montgomery’s mansion while he makes me breakfast. Which is how I find myself sitting in his kitchen wearing a pair of his rolled-up black sweatpants and a white t-shirt that’s enormous on me.
Ward, for context, is six foot four and around two hundred and thirty pounds. Way bigger than my five foot five and...way less pounds.
As I lift the glass of orange juice, an arm snakes around me under the knotted t-shirt, then cups my breast.
“Stop doing that.” I slap his arm.
“I can’t help it. I know you have no bra on underneath and can see your hard nipples.”
He’s like a teenage boy, I swear it.
And much more playful than I expected.
Do not fall for him.
“They’re hard because you keep grabbing my breasts! I’m not doing anything.”
“Breathing, Penelope. You’re breathing.” Ward turns me around and tugs me against his hard frame. I force myself not to wrap my arms around his neck.
I want to.
I want a lot of things with this man, but he drew a line in the sand this morning and I am not going to ignore it.
I don’t date.
“Are you fourteen?” I shake my head, laughing.
He takes my hand and places it on his cock, over his gray sweatpants. “All men are fourteen when it comes to their dicks.”
The pan sizzles behind him and with a groan Ward releases me and returns to the eggs he’s frying.
“Sunny side up,” I tell him and climb up on one of the stools.
In minutes, my plate is loaded with eggs, bacon, and pan-tossed tomatoes. A steaming mug of coffee beside it. We eat in relative silence, his large masculine body just inches away.
I can’t help but admire the way, even out of a suit, Ward is still able to own a room with his alpha dominance.
Am I still upset after our conversation in bed?
Yes.
But I take full responsibility. The Alanis Morrisette lyrics fool me once: shame on you. Fool me twice: shame on me is playing on repeat in my head.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t already showed me who he was. Unavailable. I should have waited for my car and gone home.
And miss out on last night?
Hell no.
Now I have my answer. The one I’ve been seeking.
Ward Montgomery doesn’t date. He’s not over the death of his wife, and that makes him an emotionally unavailable man who will only hurt me if I don’t walk away.
The danger with men like him is they want their cake and to eat it too.
He eats my pussy well; I’ll give him that.
But it’s up to me to draw my own line in the sand so he can’t just keep taking.
I wipe my mouth on a napkin, then turn to face him as he sits there like a GQ model on the cover of their Silver Fox edition looking sexy as fuck.
My poor ovaries.
He makes the butterflies in my tummy do the tango every time I look at him.
“I’m going to get dressed and then head home,” I say softly, meeting his gaze head-on. “I enjoyed both our nights together...and”—I smile—"you make a great breakfast.”
“Penelope.” Ward places his mug on the marble countertop, frowning.
“No.” I hold my hand up. “Losing your wife must’ve been devastating. I can’t even imagine the pain.”
“Yes.” His palm flattens on the cold marble, and I notice the indent from the wedding ring he once wore.
Even the physical scars are still there.
“If I was the kind of woman who could do casual sex, you’d be the man I choose, Ward.” I let him take my hand and push back the stupid emotions tightening my chest.
“I wouldn’t want you if you were,” he says roughly and lifts me onto his lap. His strength and dominance wrap me with this delicious feeling of protection, which I know isn’t real.
I want it to be, but it’s not.
I push back the tears threatening at the loss of what could be between us. Something amazing, I sense. But we will never know.
Ward wants a fuck buddy.
I want to fall in love and have a baby. Maybe not even in that order. There’s still a chance I could have a baby.
A tiny one.
Ward is in a different place in life, even without the grief he’s clearly still suffering from.
I dip my face into his neck and breathe in his musky and masculine scent to remember him always.
Cupping the back of my neck, he tugs me back up and kisses me like we’ve been lovers for years. Like two people with regrets who are saying goodbye. Who aren’t ready for it to end, and the fire begins to roar.
“Hey Dad, did you k—oh...fuck.” A voice much younger asks.
We rip apart.
I slide down off Ward’s lap and my bare feet slap on the tiles. Then I come face-to-face with a younger version of the man I just spent the night with.
“Atlas,” Ward exclaims, stepping in front of me.
I lean around him and catch the smirk on his son’s face.
Crap.
Crap, damn, shit.
“I’m... I’m going to get my things.” I dart around Ward and give Atlas an awkward wave as I run up the stairs.