Chapter 12 Alice
ALICE
There’s a loud knock at the door. Morris is up in a flash to answer it. I watch him as he checks who’s there, and then he opens the door to let Leo back in.
“Hi, Leo,” Zoey calls from the couch.
She straightens her dress and smooths her braid in a way that makes me grin. Leo is adorable. Handsome and sweet, if not a little on the young side. But he’s perfectly crush-worthy for my six-year-old.
“Everything all right?” Morris asks, shutting the door behind him.
“Yeah, we’re good.” Leo is soaked with sweat and has oil stains on his jeans, but he’s grinning.
“I know you said to lock up your bike, but man, I couldn’t leave it out there overnight.
That place has been vacant for a while, but you just never know when somebody might break in.
I put it on the trailer and drove it over. It’s downstairs.”
The look on Morris’s face makes me fall a little bit in love with him.
Falling in love. God. That reminds me of what he said right before Leo arrived.
Letting Morris take care of me and falling in love with Morris are the last two things I should do.
But somehow, I am pretty sure that no matter what I do, I won’t have much choice in the matter.
“No shit. You did that?” Morris asks, sounding surprised.
“Yeah.” Leo looks really proud of himself. “I have some news about the parts, too. I figured I’d bring you back the bike and let you know what I think I need. If you’re still cool to lay out the cash, Alice’s car doesn’t really need that much.”
They talk for a few minutes about the repair and the parts Leo thinks he can pick up from a local auto supply. Morris pulls a wad of bills from his wallet, and then they go downstairs to move Morris’s bike.
He faces us before they leave. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “Just stay put.”
As if we would go anyplace. As if we could. I just nod. “Thank you, Leo,” I call quietly.
Leo lifts a hand and waves back at me and Zoey, who again calls goodbye to her crush.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” I tease, nudging her in the ribs after they’ve left.
“Mama, stop!” Zoey giggles, kicking her feet and grabbing her side. “That tickles!”
“Oh, wait,” I say. “Do you want me to stop teasing you about Leo…? Or do you want me to stop this?” As I say that, I double down on the tickling and make sure to get a few extra finger-wiggles in the extra ticklish parts behind Zoey’s knees.
“Mama!” she squeals, rolling and flopping on the couch like a little fish.
As we giggle and wrestle on the couch, the door opens, and Morris is back. His presence is so huge. He fills a room but doesn’t darken it.
Somehow, his size is calming. Stabilizing. I look up at him, ready to meet his eyes, but the look on his face draws my attention back to Zoey.
She is frozen in place, staring at Morris as if she’s been caught stealing. “I’m sorry, Morris,” she says, her tiny voice reedy and thin. “I was being too loud.”
I cover my face with my hands for a split second, ashamed that she’s gone from playful and happy to scared and apologetic in a matter of seconds.
And even more ashamed that, yet again, Morris is seeing that side of our lives.
I don’t know how I am going to be able to untrain the Jerry out of my daughter. But I don’t have to wonder for long.
“You were being loud, princess?” Morris toes off his boots and leaves them in a pile by the door.
“I don’t think what I heard just now was loud.
That was sort of like—who was that mouse sidekick in your princess dagger movie there?
” He motions toward the TV, referring to the show she was watching earlier.
“Monty Mouse?” Zoey asks.
“That guy,” Morris says, nodding. “Now, I seem to remember he made a teeny tiny squeak like this, ‘Eeep, eeep, eeep.’”
I have to cover my mouth with a hand to keep from bursting into laughter. Hearing Morris imitate Monty Mouse is ridiculous. That tiny sound coming from that big, booming man.
Zoey seems to find it hysterical too, because she is giggling nearly uncontrollably, the shy, self-restrained little girl quickly driven away. “That sounds exactly like him! Morris is so good at voices!” Zoey cries.
“Morris is so good,” I say before I can stop myself.
At the slight innuendo in my voice, Morris flicks a smoldering gaze at me. The man makes me hot just by looking at me.
“Well, now that my train of thought has completely derailed…” Morris looks at me.
“What was I saying, princess? Oh yeah… Monty Mouse has this little voice, and that’s what I heard from you just now.
All those giggles?” He shakes his head and holds up a finger for her to watch and wait.
“Those were just tiny noises. This—now, this is loud.” Morris throws himself back on the couch and kicks his feet in the air.
“Mommy, stop! Stop tickling me!” he booms. He’s imitating Zoey as I tickled her, and the sight of this man, kicking and writhing and shouting, nearly undoes me.
Zoey is beside herself in a fit of raucous laughter.
It’s the most pristine and purest sound ever.
Her little face is beet red, alight with freedom and silliness the likes of which I rarely get to see.
The peals of her kid laughs are so sweet, so genuine.
That’s the girl I want Zoey to be every day. Loud and laughing and happy and free.
Morris keeps up the silliness, and I finally join in the laughter until tears stream down my cheeks.
“Now,” Morris says, leaping up from the couch in an incredibly lithe movement.
“That’s the last I want to hear about overly good manners, apologies, and noise.
” He lowers his face to meet Zoey’s. “I’m a casual guy, Princess Zoey,” he explains.
“You listen to your mama, you do as she says. But while you’re here in my place, you can make noise, you can laugh…
I don’t care if you dance a kick line across the floor.
Got it? Make yourself at home and relax. ”
Zoey looks at me, a small, subdued smile still on her face. I nod to reassure her it’s okay. “Are we staying here, Mama? Are we staying with Morris?”
I look to Morris, who nods. “You sure are, little lady. We’ll figure out the logistics.”
He stands up and motions toward me.
I get up and join him in the kitchen.
“I’m going to make a quick run back to the compound,” he says. “I’m going to swap out my bike for my truck so we can drive around with the booster seat.”
I nod. “Do you want me to order anything for later? Is there someplace we can walk and pick up groceries?”
Morris shakes his head. “Wait for me. We’ll go together when I’m back. Won’t be even an hour round trip.” He looks past me to Zoey, who is fiddling with the remote, scrolling through the menu guide. “Will she be okay until I get back? You need something now?”
“No,” I assure him. “She’s okay.”
“And you?” he presses. “I don’t like how our conversation ended earlier. We’re not done there.”
I sigh. “I know.” I nod at him. “I’m okay. Thanks.”
“All right, then.” He slides back into his boots and grabs his wallet and his phone. “Just wait here,” he tells me.
He steps closer to me. So close that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s so cruel. So unfair.
Every cell in my body wants to sway forward and lean against this man. Find my place, my spot against his chest. How long will it be before he’ll hold me again? Before he’ll take me, press me against the wall, and kiss me like I’m the only thing left on earth he loves?
That’s exactly the problem.
I can’t let that happen.
Men are toxic.
Dependence on men is my fatal flaw.
There’s no way in hell I’m getting stuck with some other man—even a gorgeous, sexy, tattooed, gentle giant—while I’m still stuck under one of them.
Not now, maybe not ever.
Who knows.
My taste in men sucks.
My luck is even worse.
Maybe this is the time in my life I need to focus on doing something different.
“Alice.” Morris’s gaze sears my skin, and memories of his kisses, of his hand on my ass, make me wet even as we stand here in his kitchen. Fully clothed, inches apart… The power this man has over me makes me doubt this all the more.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Don’t answer your phone for anyone but me, d’you hear?” His eyes are so dark now, I know he’s serious. He’s leaning forward, waiting for some acknowledgment that I’ve heard him. “Alice, don’t answer your phone. Can you promise me that?” he asks.
I couldn’t promise what he asked me before. That I’d let him take care of me. That I’d trust him, put myself and my daughter and all my failed hopes and dreams in his tattooed hands. I said no.
But this. Maybe this. Ignoring Jerry and not picking up the phone for one hour… Since it was what I’d planned on doing anyway, I don’t see how it can hurt to agree.
But no matter what Morris says, it’s not a promise. It’s not a promise to keep, anyway. It’s common sense. I won’t ever answer Jerry’s calls again.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I won’t answer the phone. I’ll stay right here with Zoey until you’re back. Then dinner.” I try to brighten my tone a little, pull back some of the weight of my failures, my disappointments.
“Alice Sparrow,” Morris says. He says my name like he’s tasting it, savoring the shape of every letter on his tongue. The affection in his tone melts a little of my protective shell. But just a little.
“Morris…I don’t even know your last name,” I echo, trying to tease him, lighten the intensity of the energy radiating between us.
He gets the joke, and he grins. “Well, you’re wrong there, little bird. Morris is my last name,” he says, grabbing his keys and yanking open the door. He blows me a kiss, and I shake my head. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he says.
I lock the door behind him and then head to the window to see if I can watch him drive away.
I can’t. The apartment overlooks the rear of the building, and most of the parking is out front on the street.
I listen for the sound of his bike, and find I’m inexplicably sad when I can’t hear the roar of the muffler anymore.