CHAPTER TEN
Aspen
River and I sit on the couch, relaxing as John Mayer’s “Gravity” plays low through the speaker. Well, I’m stretched out, and River is sitting at the end petting Puck as he lies comfortably in her lap. I’m surprised no one claimed the little Teacup Yorkie. I swore I wouldn’t let him stay, but then Tucker named him and became attached. Love the name; sometimes it saves me from having to contribute to the swear jar. I can just play it off as though I was misheard. Shh. Don’t tell anyone.
It’s late, Tucker’s in bed, and after today, I just wanted to relax. And damn, am I relaxed after my second glass of wine and now working on my third.
“Have you ever paid attention to the lyrics of this song?” I ask, pointing to the speaker.
She tilts her head and listens, squinting her eyes in thought.
I laugh. “God, it is fucking depressing, River. I love some John Mayer, but this . . .” I shake my head and take a sip of wine. “Alexa, play ‘Promises’ by Calvin Harris and Sam Smith.”
An upbeat tempo begins to play.
“There, so much better.” I sit up to face her, cross my legs under me, and prop my elbow on the back of the couch. “I had a thought today.” I skim my finger around the rim of my glass making it sing. “How would you like to come work for me? I can put you in the marketing department: you can learn from the best and gain the experience you need.”
She sputters, which sends her descending into a coughing fit. “Are you serious?” She beams. “Isn’t that, like, nepotism or something?”
“Pfft. I can do whatever I want.” I giggle. “Seriously though. No, I don’t feel that way. I’m not starting you in a director’s position. You’ll have to work your way up. With your degree, you’re more than qualified for an entry-level position. Plus, if you hadn’t moved here with me, you would still have a job. So let me just do this for you.”
“Yes!” She sets Puck down on the floor and hops up, then leans over to hug me. “Thank you so much, Aspen.”
I pat her back. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner. You can start next Monday.” I release her. “Also, I have a very teeny, tiny, tincy, wincey favor to ask of you.”
“Anything,” she insists, sitting back down.
Taking a deep breath, I recount today’s events. I tell her how Tucker took me literally when I asked Cal if he was going to follow me. “So now, Cal is determined to take us. And I just don’t know how I feel about that. Will you please go with us?”
“I retract my statement. I’m not playing fourth wheel.”
“What do you mean ‘playing fourth wheel’? You can’t leave me with him by myself.”
“You won’t be by yourself. Tucker will be there too.”
“Yeah, but it’ll be awkward. We’ve just started speaking to each other without ripping each other’s heads off. I’ve been in a vehicle with him one time, and that was during a traumatic event. It’s going to be uncomfortable.” I trace my finger around the rim of my glass.
“Fine! I’ll go.” She acquiesces. “But I think someone might have a little crush.”
I gasp in horror. “I do not!”
“Oh, look at those little red cheeks.” She pokes her finger into said cheek. “I bet he makes your heart go pitter patter.” She baby talks with a giggle, then stands back up. “You know it’s true.”
Grabbing the bottle of wine from the kitchen island, she stumbles her way over, tops off my glass, and fills her empty one.
“I know he makes me feel something. At first it was annoyed and exasperated, but now it’s . . . I don’t know what it is.”
“I saw him with Tucker when he brought you both home. He was hovering over him like a helicopter dad. That even made my ovaries go into overdrive, and I’m not even the kid’s mother. I also noticed you glancing over at them when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. Don’t even get me started on how fine he is—the guy’s a total snack.”
I chug the entire contents of my glass. It scares me how rapidly I went from loathing him to actually liking him. He has softened up, and I think it has to do with the sweet little ten-year-old boy sleeping upstairs.
“Okay, it’s time I go to bed. I’m going to take Puck out, then take a PartySmart and call it a night.”
“Goodnight.” River singsongs and strolls over to the kitchen to put her glass in the sink, then heads upstairs, tripping on a step on the way up. Her giggle fades out as she makes her way into her bedroom, and then I hear the click of her bedroom door.
Grabbing the leash, I pick up Puck and head out. I descend the steps and start to make my way into the backyard, but before I get there, I hear footsteps slap the pavement behind me. “Aspen!” Cal calls out.
“Yeah?” I turn around. “What are you doing here?”
I’m not dressed appropriately. I have short sleep shorts and a tank top on, sans a bra. I cross my arms over my chest. My cheeks heat. It’s eleven o’clock at night, and I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a run and saw you out here.” He pauses, catching his breath. “Um . . . I inserted myself into your business and made a decision without talking to you about it.”
“That you did.”
He just ran with Tucker’s assumption. He didn’t even give me a chance to correct my son. Like he said, he literally inserted himself into my business as if this is a fiduciary relationship. I don’t know what to think or feel about that. Confusion? A week ago we couldn’t stand each other, and now . . . well, I don’t hate him anymore.
Cal swallows hard, and when he does, his Adam’s apple bobs. He runs a hand through his hair, then paces back and forth. “I’m not sorry about that.” He looks at me, then continues pacing. Suddenly, he stops, tilts his head to the sky, and rubs his hands up and down his face, then whispers. “Fuck! I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know how to do this.”
He places his hands on his hips and sighs. “The thought of you both being in the middle of New York City by yourselves and something happening to you, like what happened on Friday, and me not being there to protect you, terrifies me. When you were shoved and then Tuck was knocked down . . .” His jaw ticks as he turns his head back to look at me. “It pissed me off, but more than that, it scared the hell out of me. So, I’m not going to ask your permission to protect you both, and I’m not going to say I’m sorry if I’m not. Because, as traumatic as that was for you, it was traumatic for me too. I will, however, ask you to have a little grace. I’ve tried to concentrate on hockey and nothing but hockey. I don’t make time for other people, and I haven’t cared about anyone but myself in a long time. Well, except for Carter. So, I don’t know how to channel what I’m feeling right now. But fuck, I love the hell out of Tuck and the thought of someone hurting him like that again because I’m not there to protect him." He pauses and shakes his head. “I can’t do it. So please, don’t ask me to.”
“Okay.” I whisper. It’s then I realize I do feel something for this man, even if I don’t know what it is. Even if he has been infuriating. This man. God, this man. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before: anger, lust, happiness, butterflies. The way he is with my son and the softer side I’ve seen of him with me in the past few days, I could easily fall in love with that side of him, and that scares me to death.
“Alright, well, take your ass to bed; we have an early start tomorrow.”
“So bossy!” I laugh and begin to make my way to the front door. “Oh, and Hotshot?”
“Yeah?”
“You can love Tucker all you want. He needs you, and I think you really need him, but if you break his heart, Callan Miles, I will break your damn neck.”
“Duly noted . . . you know, I was thinking . . .”
“Don’t go hurting yourself.”
“Har har.” He takes the steps up quickly and stands in front of me on the porch. “Seriously, I was thinking.” His eyes lock with mine; the porch light catches the golden flecks in his.
“Okay?” I frown. He studies my lips for a beat, then quickly averts his gaze. His eyes slowly make their way back to mine.
“Uh . . . you know I said I haven’t cared about anyone but myself for a long time. I’ve been really fucking selfish until Tuck came blowing through my life like a goddamned tornado.” I giggle because that’s Tucker; his joy is contagious, and he kind of just attaches to you and doesn’t let you go. Cal continues, “God, this is so stupid, but . . . um . . .” He stops talking and rubs the back of his neck, the vulnerability showing on his face. I give him a reassuring smile to continue. “Carter knows a little bit about my past, and some of his advice from the last couple of months is kind of starting to settle with me.” I give him a confused look. “I guess what I’m trying to do is turn over a new leaf, and I don’t know how to do that, so I’m just going to spit it out. I want to try this friendship thing . . . with you.”
A smile lights up my face. “We can be friends on one condition. Well, actually two.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t take friendships lightly, so if you’re going to be my friend, you have to stay my friend. None of the back-and-forth shit. That doesn’t sit well with me. You’re either in or you’re out. Capisce? I’ll probably push your buttons and piss you off, but you can’t just stop being friends with me.”
“And the other condition?”
“You can’t go catching feelings for me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Firecracker.” He turns around swiftly and skips down the steps. “Goodnight, friend .” I watch him until he makes it back to his house.
“Go inside!” He yells from across the street.
I roll my eyes and step across the threshold. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.
The sound of my alarm is blaring in my ears, yelling at me to start the day. My head feels like someone is taking a pickaxe to it. Wine always does that to me—guaranteed headache. I groan and slap at my alarm clock. Peeking through squinty eyes, I see the time. Shit! It’s seven forty-five! Jumping out of bed, I race to the shower and take the fastest shower in the history of showers and wash my hair. I throw on a long, light blue, floral, sleeveless dress with a high neck, put my hair in a quick bun, and accessorize with a pair of pearl earrings. Forgoing a full face of makeup and only using a few swipes of mascara and lip gloss, I decide this is as good as it’s going to get today. I send up a silent thank you to the universe for clear skin and sprint out of my bedroom to coax Tucker out of bed.
When I waltz into his room, his bed is made, so I turn and run downstairs. I find him sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, completely dressed, reading a book, and eating a bowl of cereal.
“Thank God! Did Aunt River get you ready?” I kiss the top of his head.
“No. She’s still in bed.”
Of course she is! Wine was a terrible idea. I’m surprised to see Tucker remembered dress clothes and a tie.
“Okay, we don’t have time to wait. We have three minutes to be outside. Did you eat enough?”
“Yes ma’am.” He rinses out his bowl and leaves it on the counter.
“Dishwasher, Bud.” I direct a pointed look at him. “Then go brush your teeth, please.”
As I’m sorting through papers, making sure we have everything for enrollment should we decide on a school today, the doorbell rings. I start to shove the papers back into the envelope when River appears at the bottom of the stairs, her hair a mess, and she’s clad in pajamas. She stumbles over a pair of Tucker’s shoes in the entryway, kicks them off to the side, and opens the door. Cal is standing there with a cup carrier holding what I’m guessing is three coffees and a hot chocolate, looking every bit of a GQ magazine model. Goddamn.
My eyes travel the length of him when he walks through the door sporting a pair of navy slacks, a white t-shirt, and a navy blazer. Short stubble enhances his sharp jawline. The way he is standing at the door with the left corner of his lips popping into a smirk tells me I’ve been caught checking him out. Damn it! I avert my eyes. I’m his boss; I really need to stop ogling him. Way to play it cool, Aspen. I shake my head and place my concentration back on the papers.
“Good morning, Frat Boy. Are you going to continue to make a habit of pulling me out of my slumber?” River grumbles, rubbing her eyes. “She’s in here.” She thumbs over her shoulder in my direction while I continue sorting through all of the ridiculous items needing to be submitted: birth certificate, immunization records, letters of recommendation . . . what ten-year-old needs a letter of recommendation?
“You should have been out of bed already! I guess I can assume you’re not going with us today?” I raise one eyebrow at her.
She groans at me in response and plops face down onto the couch. Her response is muffled. I’m taking that as a no. I roll my eyes. The freaking traitor!
“Morning, Cal!” Tucker casually walks down the stairs and across the entryway to Cal and gives him a fist bump. “You ready to do this thang?” Tucker asks Cal.
“Yep. Are you?”
Tucker looks down at himself and straightens out his clip-on tie. “Do I look good?”
“Yeah, man. Fit is drip.” He hands Tucker what I assume is hot chocolate. “Did I say that right?”
“You’re catching on.” Tucker pats Cal’s back.
I chuckle under my breath and watch their interaction while I place everything back into the folder, then stroll over to join the boys at the door. Before we leave, he walks over to the coffee table and sets down the coffee for River, then rejoins us outside. Cal hurries around me and opens the front passenger door of the truck.
“Callan Miles.” I scold and whisper. “Friends don’t open doors for each other.” I frown at him in confusion when he offers his hand, then bypass his offer and boost myself up into his truck.
His face lights up; I wish he would smile like this more often. “Friends who have little boys around that need to be taught how to treat a lady do.” He retorts.
Callan closes my door, then makes sure Tucker is buckled in. Once everyone is situated and we’ve started driving, Tucker calls for my attention. I turn in my seat to look at him.
“You look really pretty today, Momma.” My lips contort into a smile, and my heart soars at his sweet words. When I turn back around in my seat, I catch Cal wink at Tucker.
“Thank you.”
We sit in front of the headmistress’ long walnut desk in her office as she shuffles through the documents I’ve brought with me. It smells of the old, musty books that line her bookcase behind her desk. The clock on the wall to the right gives a click, click, click, click, like it’s counting down our doom as she looks over Tucker’s entrance exam that he completed fifteen minutes ago. Ms. Kadence, the headmistress, is beautiful and polished. Her rich, dark brown hair is cut into a cute bob that complements her high cheekbones and big blue eyes.
“Mr. would you like a tour of the school?” I’m not good at masking my facial expressions. My brows pull down in confusion. Quickly, I mask my irritation and smile. It’s not hard to tell that Tucker is my son; we look just alike. I told her Cal was a friend of ours. I mean, if Cal was his father, wouldn’t I have introduced him as such? Why is she addressing him instead of me? Passing it off as a misunderstanding, I let it go.
After she hands me my documents, we begin our tour. I can’t help but notice she seems to put a little more sway in her hips when she walks. Well, more than what I would consider to be normal. Her red dress is fitting—sexy yet still classy. She’s certainly alluring.
She shows us the computer lab, library, and music room—addressing Cal the entire time and ignoring me. Me . . . Tucker’s mother. She keeps placing her hand on Cal’s forearm or grazing her hand across his shoulder and giggling like a little fucking schoolgirl, and I. Don’t. Like. It. I don’t know why I don’t like it, but it’s starting to really piss me off. I can’t explain it. Maybe because she is doing it in front of Tucker? I don’t know. Cal is beginning to look uncomfortable by the time we pass the art room. Finally, I’ve had enough.
“Ms. Kadence, Mr. Miles is my friend, not Tucker’s father, so if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you would address me.”
Cal’s eyebrows meet his hairline. I’m sure he can tell I’m at my wits end with this lady. She is completely unprofessional, not that I have any room to talk after checking him out this morning, but still . . .
“Yes, ma’am.” She nods.
Ten minutes later, it’s as if she didn’t hear me at all, because contradictory to her acknowledgment, she carries on in the exact same manner and disregards what I just told her. We’re on the playground when I see her slip him her business card from my periphery; I lose it. I completely lose my mind.
I turn and waltz up to her. “This meeting is concluded. I don’t really think we have anything left in this institution that we need to see further. May I make a suggestion?” I don’t wait for a response. “Maybe next time someone comes to look at your facility, you keep your hands, your eyes, and any other objects to yourself. You know? Something I’m sure you teach here in the kindergarten classrooms.” I pluck the card from Cal’s fingers, grab her hand, and shove it into her palm. “We won’t be needing this; Tucker won’t be attending here.”
“Tucker! Let’s go.” My voice booms, coming out a little louder than intended. Tucker races down from the jungle gym and catches up with us.
“On to the next place, Bud.” I make sure to correct my tone to be sweet and my voice low. I just made an ass out of myself in front of Cal. His face is beaming. I want to slap that smile off of his stupid, handsome face.
When we’re back at the truck, he opens my door once again and makes a repeat of settling Tucker in the back.
“So.” He scratches his neck and starts the truck. “That was . . . interesting. Care to share what that was about?”
“Not particularly, but I will if you insist.”
And he laughs. He fucking laughs! With his head tilted back, he gives a full-on belly laugh. I look out of the window stewing with my elbow propped on the door and my cheek resting on my fist. Tucker begins to laugh. I try like hell to fight my smile. My lips are tugging hard, and I’m forcing them back into a thin line, but then a laugh bursts out of me.
“I kind of missed you there for a minute, Firecracker.”