Chapter 18
Knox
When I let myself into my house a few minutes later, the place was full of life.
Bacon was sizzling on the stove. Quincy was whisking eggs and humming along to the kids’ music that played from the speaker. Juniper was on her back on a blanket on the living room floor with her brand-new play gym arching over her.
“Hey,” Quincy said, drawing my attention back to her.
This time I couldn’t help but study her more carefully.
Her golden hair was pulled into a neat ponytail high on her head, the strands looking silky and smooth.
Her face was makeup-free and fresh-looking, her eyes bright even though I knew for a fact she hadn’t slept enough.
As my gaze roved downward, I realized she wore my flannel shirt.
It reached to her thighs, which were bare, and I couldn’t help wondering if she had anything on underneath it.
I wanted to be annoyed at the familiarity she assumed by pulling my shirt on, but I couldn’t.
She looked hot, with only two buttons fastened, the shoulders hanging low on her upper arms, the sleeves rolled a few times, and her tempting legs bare down to a pair of fur-lined socks. My dick went hard in no time flat.
Fuck.
“Hi.” I made myself smile at her but moved through the kitchen, toward Juniper.
She was content to explore her toy, her eyes focused on a plush dog that dangled from the middle.
Instead of picking her up, I lay down on my back next to her, our heads side by side, me urging my hard-on to wither away.
“Hey, June. Pretty cool toy you have here.”
As I looked at her instead of the toy, she turned her head to me, smiled, then rolled her whole body toward me.
My heart expanded in my chest, an honest-to-God physical sensation.
I never understood the power of a tiny baby before.
She had me wrapped around her pinky finger in no time.
I kissed her nose, and she let out a giggle as her tiny hand explored my face.
My body back under control now, I rolled toward her and put my palm on her fuzzy-pajama-covered side, covering from her diaper to her armpit. It made me marvel yet again how someone so small could have such a profound effect on me.
For the next few minutes, my daughter and I lay on the floor playing—exploring the different dangly toys on the gym, doing peekaboo, kicking our legs up toward the ceiling. When I mimicked her, she stared, then smiled, then did it again.
“Breakfast is ready,” Quincy eventually called out.
I sat up, tickled Juniper’s tummy, and reveled in her resulting laugh. “I assume Miss Smiles has eaten?”
“Bright and early,” Quincy answered.
I leaned over and blew a raspberry on Juniper’s belly, then kissed her nose before pushing my exhausted body to a stand.
When I headed to the island, my daughter went back to the dangling toys.
Quincy had said repeatedly what a good baby she was and had told me stories about how her middle sibling, Brayden, had never been willing to entertain himself.
It made me all the more thankful that Juniper was content so much of the time.
The more gently I was eased into this parenthood thing, the better.
Quincy set two plates at our places, both with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. She’d added cheese to the eggs the way I liked. Any other day, that would make me happy. Today it felt intimate and made it hard to breathe.
“Thank you for cooking,” I managed, and even I could hear how formal it sounded. I couldn’t seem to help it. I was holding myself in check, refusing to succumb to her allure.
She slid onto the stool next to mine. “I knew you’d be like this.”
“Like what?”
She broke off the end of a bacon slice and tossed it into her mouth, then grinned at me as she chewed. “Grave and regretful.” She made her voice deeper than usual; I supposed to mimic me.
I scooped a bite of eggs in, trying to figure out how to reply.
I hadn’t counted on her being so awake and direct when I got back.
I’d pictured her in the nursery, sleepy and peaceful and feeding Juniper, allowing me to get my thoughts better organized.
I should’ve known by now that Quincy rarely did what I expected.
The food tasted fantastic, as it usually did when she cooked, but my appetite waned after the first two bites. She wanted to discuss this now, it seemed.
I got down from my stool, went around the island, and poured a glass of water. Stalling for time, I drank most of it, then supported my weight on the counter opposite Quincy.
“I don’t regret it, but it can’t happen again.” When I looked up to gauge her reaction, I expected a frown. Instead her head was tilted, and she was smiling halfheartedly at me, almost as if she pitied me. “What’s that look for?” I asked defensively.
“I guess it’s your age.”
I didn’t understand what she was talking about, but I already didn’t like it. “What’s my age?”
“This Mr. Serious thing. You’re overthinking last night, aren’t you? Second-guessing?”
“There’s no guessing. That wasn’t a good idea, Quince.” The shortened form of her name came out without thought, sounding more intimate than I intended.
“Did you enjoy it?” she said, picking at her bacon.
“You know I did.”
“Then why can’t we just go with that? You didn’t propose or anything. It was…a fling.”
“A one-time thing?” I asked skeptically. I was pretty sure she was campaigning for a repeat, and frankly I wasn’t as dedicated as I should be to saying no.
She laughed quietly. “Three times so far, but I’m open to more. If it’s casual.”
“How do we guarantee it stays casual?”
“It just…does. I’m leaving for school in less than three months, Knox. Plus neither one of us is looking for a relationship, right?”
“Right,” I said with emphasis.
“I just got out of a way-too-long relationship,” she said. “This is my time to be free. I don’t know what your reasons are for not wanting a relationship, but for me, it’d be a mistake to get involved with someone before I leave for college.”
“That’s fair. But what if feelings start?”
“Maybe feelings will start, but that doesn’t change the rules.”
She was so matter of fact about it that my resolve weakened fast. Resisting those passionate, pretty eyes was nearly impossible.
I inhaled deeply, watching her, considering my next words. “I might be open to this recurring fling idea, but I have a condition.”
Her brows shot up her forehead.
“I don’t want people to know. Not because I’m ashamed of you but because I can imagine what they’d say. I’m too old for you. I’m your boss.”
“All the things you already threw at me,” she said.
“I’m already the outsider trying to fit in. You think I’m being old and over serious, but you know as well as I do that people would go straight to cradle robbing and sexual harassing and who knows what else. If the fling isn’t long-term anyway, let’s keep it to ourselves.”
She studied me while she chewed a bite of toast. “I’m down with that. We can do the whole secret-lover thing.”
Her grin told me she was poking at me again, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t help grinning myself. The thought of having her again, with these conditions, was too good to pass up.
The warning voice in my head, the one that’d been squawking at me during my run, was a lot easier to shut up when I was standing a few feet away, staring at Quincy in my barely buttoned shirt.
Later, I promised myself. I had all kinds of time later to get my head straight. Right now, I needed to drag myself away to my weekly meeting with Ava.