Chapter 37
I woke up and it seemed too bright outside. “Shit.”
I was in the middle of the bed, Elijah on my side.
That little thief. There was no frustration behind my thoughts though, only fondness.
It helped that my leg was draped over his and my arm across his stomach.
I grabbed my phone, which said six forty.
Not too late, but I meant to wake up at six fifteen.
I’d told Raya when she’d dropped me off the night before that I’d take care of the delivery this morning.
My hair, which I’d put in a French braid last night after our activities, was still slightly damp.
I pulled it out of the braid as I walked toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” Elijah mumbled from his half-asleep state. “Come back to bed.”
“I’m going in to work.”
“So early?”
“Delivery. I shouldn’t be long, and then I’ll come back home for a couple hours.”
“Home?” he asked.
“I mean here. My home.”
“Okay,” he said, rolling over and closing his eyes.
“Well, well, well,” Mac said, walking up with a box of produce.
Mac was a large man—tall and wide with a friendly face.
“If it isn’t the prodigal daughter returned home from her life of debauchery in the real world.
” He shoved the box he held into my arms and walked back to the open back of his box truck.
“No debauchery,” I said. “Just an ill mother.” I set the box just inside the door I’d propped open.
“I should’ve known it was you when the door was actually open when I pulled up.”
It was five to seven. I’d gotten ready in record time—no makeup, just throwing on clothes and brushing my teeth.
“What’s going on with your hair?” he asked.
I’d taken it out of the braid, and it was very wavy. Probably bordering on too wavy. I normally wore my hair in a tight ponytail or bun at work. Occasionally loose beachy waves after work. But never this. “Was that meant to be a compliment?” I asked.
“It wasn’t meant to be an insult,” he returned.
I laughed. “What’s going on with your jeans?” I asked, pointing at the several stains on his knees.
“I’m at work,” he said.
“So am I,” I said.
He passed me another box. “You look nice, Sutton. Happy.”
“Thanks, I am.” I placed the box on top of the last one. “Thanks for keeping an eye on things here.”
“You back then?”
“No. Hopefully soon.” It all depended on how well my mom did this weekend.
If she thrived on her scooter and if her dizziness subsided, maybe I could be home in a couple of weeks.
That thought twisted my insides, and I tried to ignore it.
I wanted to be home in a couple of weeks. I wanted to get back to my life.
“I didn’t realize you were taking care of your mom. You didn’t say.”
“That’s because I’m a super private shit,” I said.
“Your words, not mine,” he returned.
I helped Mac with the rest of the boxes, and as he was about to leave, I said, “Oh, I have our contract for you. Let me get it.”
I retrieved it from the office and handed it over.
“I was wondering if I was ever going to get this back.”
“Our year mark was only last week,” I said.
“But I gave that to Raya three weeks ago.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No problem.”
He left and I pulled out my phone. At first, I was going to call Raya, ask her if there were other things that she’d forgotten about but realized my whole point in taking over delivery this morning was so she could sleep in.
Plus, she’d had a lot on her plate. I was sure she’d remembered the most important things.
Instead of calling her, I spent some time unloading boxes and cleaning areas we never got to, like the supply closet.
Things that might help her after I left.
When I was done, I realized a couple of hours had passed. Chef would be in soon, and I needed to get home to change. I headed for my car and dialed my mom while I did.
“I’m fine,” was how she answered. “Lucy said she doesn’t even need to be here.”
“I didn’t say that,” I heard Lucy call out.
“How did yesterday go?”
“Tara took me on a walk. How come you haven’t taken me on a walk in seven weeks?”
“I have asked you a dozen times to go on a walk. You always say no.”
“I don’t remember that.”
Did she think I was lying? “But I take you to doctors’ appointments where we walk.”
“I don’t like doctors’ appointments,” she said.
That makes two of us, I thought, but kept to myself. “Did you like those cupcakes I sent you last Christmas? I could pick you up some more to bring home tomorrow.”
“No thanks,” she said. “I’m supposed to watch what I eat. Tara made me healthy granola bites.”
“Sounds delicious,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I turned the handle and shoved open the door with my shoulder, my hands full of bags from the grocery store. If Elijah was stuck at my house today and tomorrow, I figured I’d better feed him.
“I’m sorry,” I said, seeing Elijah sitting on the couch, his notebook on his knees.
“Your hair.”
I pushed the door shut with my butt. “I know, it’s insane.”
“No, it’s big, but not insane. I dig it.”
I shook my head, causing it to dance around me. Then I sighed. “I trapped you here without a car.”
“It’s okay.”
“I shouldn’t have brought you,” I said, swinging the bags onto the counter.
“Well, I missed you too.”
“No, I just mean I wasn’t thinking. I was being selfish. I wanted you to come, and in my brain, it was going to be like a vacation, but once I got here I realized I needed to work. I still need to work.”
“I’m a grown man, Sutton. I don’t need to be entertained or babysat. And I was pretty sure you were happy I was here last night.”
I joined him on the couch, first next to him and then working my way onto his lap around the notebook he held.
He laughed and tossed the notebook onto the coffee table, followed by the pen.
Then he wrapped me up in his arms, and I decided this was my new favorite place.
The warm skin of his neck against my nose, his strong grip holding me, his heart beating against mine.
“I was very happy you were here last night,” I said into his skin. “I’m happy you’re here now.”
“But?”
“But I need to go back in an hour. Do you want to drop me off so you can have the car? You could go to … I don’t know, the observatory? The Hollywood sign? The Walk of Fame?”
“Can I not go to work with you?”
“You want to go to work with me?”
“I want to be where you are.”
The words seemed to inflate my heart, but I had to remind myself that he wasn’t making a declaration. He just meant today. He didn’t mean forever. “You can come to work with me.”
“Good, because I hear they give out hand jobs in the back room.”
“Only to our favorite customers.”
He laughed and flipped me onto my back on the couch, lowering himself on top of me. My hand immediately went down the back of his shorts, and I grabbed a handful of his ass, pushing him against me.
“You feel good,” I said.
“Do we have time for a quickie?” he asked.
“We have time for more than that.”
“Thank god.” He practically ripped the jeans off my body, followed by my underwear. “I want to taste you.”
I swallowed, then nodded, dropping my knees open.
He placed a hand flat on my stomach and let it drift down until his palm rested against me, his eyes following the movement.
I was on my back, watching him, aching with desire.
He traced a path between my legs, both his hands wedging themselves beneath me, cupping my ass and lifting me slightly.
And then his mouth was on me, his tongue moving in just the right way, slow and sensual.
I gripped the edge of the couch with one hand and the back of the couch with the other, squeezing the material in my fists.
An embarrassingly loud moan escaped my mouth as he explored me.
I grabbed onto his shirt at his shoulders and tugged. He got the hint, his mouth trailing hot kisses up my body to my breasts. Then to my neck.
I moved up to my elbows, then my palms, and he followed suit.
I peeled off his shirt, then pushed him onto his back, lying on top of him, letting my body move along his erection.
He undid the latch on my bra, and I wiggled out of it and my shirt at the same time.
Then I laid my bare chest against his, and we explored one another for the next hour.