Chapter 9 #2
Easier said than done when the gutter currently has his name written all over it.
“Yes? Maybe. I don’t know. I just want to see how this plays out first.” I nod toward the ambulance, but Micah seems to be taken by Sawyer just like he was with Mike.
Maybe he’s growing out of this phase of hating men.
Maybe he just needs to be around more men instead of me and all my single mom friends all the time.
Maybe he wouldn’t be so skittish if my dad hadn’t yelled at him for breaking a plate the last time I let him see them.
“They’re really feckin’ cute,” Mike says as Levi runs around the truck, Sawyer chasing after him.
“Thanks.”
“I know Micah already, but what’s the wee one’s name?”
Is he joking? “The number of times I’ve yelled it in front of you the past week should be a clue.”
He chuckles. “Fair.”
“It’s Levi.”
“Levi,” he says slowly as if he’s testing the feel of it on his tongue. “Not sure anyone could top our meet-cute.” His head turns to mine, a smile lighting up his features.
“Really?” I look over at him, trying my best not to roll my eyes. “Our meet-cute was a train wreck.”
“I was talking about me and Micah’s meet-cute.”
I shake my head, rubbing my forehead with two fingers as if I can iron out the wrinkles forming there as I hide my embarrassment. Of course he wasn’t talking about ours. “Meet-cutes are usually between love interests.”
“Anyone can have a meet-cute,” he insists. “And Micah and I bonded over Pokémon. Best meet-cute ever, in my opinion. And then I officially met your wee one at Meat Cute. We had a Meat Cute meet-cute.”
“Can you stop saying meet-cute?” I try to keep the frustration from seeping into my tone, but the slightly wounded look on his face tells me I failed.
It’s for the best. I don’t want him getting attached to me or my boys, not when everything I touch ends in disaster. Best to keep things light. Casual.
“Sorry. Just saying I enjoyed spending time with your lad even if it wasn’t under the most ideal of circumstances. But I hadn’t been officially introduced to Levi, not counting the arse-grabbin’.”
I feel bad for the way I shut him down with my comment, and I bite my lip, offering him a small smile.
His eyes drop to my mouth, seemingly mesmerized by the movement.
Is the firefighter hottie checking me out?
Surely not. It’s all in my head. I’m a walking disaster, as proven by our earlier run-ins.
There’s no way someone as attractive as him would ever want to be with someone like me.
I don’t mean to put myself down, and I think I have very attractive qualities, but they’re buried deep in the rubble that is my disaster of a life.
I love my kids, and I was lucky to be able to conceive them, but my dating life often feels like a string of unlucky disasters.
“How’d you come up with the name Levi? I like it.”
“It took me a week to pick a name for him. I was alone with a toddler, suddenly responsible for two kids on my own. And Micah kept getting annoyed with how attached Levi was to me, mainly because I was breastfeeding, so I looked up names and when I saw that Levi meant ‘joined’ or ‘attached,’ I just knew.”
He furrows his brow. “Why were you alone? What about their dad?”
Knowing this isn’t something I’m willing to share, I choose my words carefully. “Their dad isn’t in the picture.”
He nods once, and I exhale, relieved he’s not going to press further. “Micah is a handsome lad. Has your eyes.”
Our eyes meet, and I’m overwhelmed by the intensity I see there. Is he flirting with me? Or just examining my eyes to see if they match Micah’s?
He lifts a hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and I shiver at the contact. No, definitely flirting.
“Where does Levi get the red hair from? Does it run in your family?” His fingers linger by my ear before he pulls back.
I drop my head, suddenly overwhelmed by his attention. “It must,” I admit, and I squeeze my eyes shut, suddenly afraid he’s going to pick that comment apart. Who doesn’t know if something like that runs in their family?
But he doesn’t press the matter, and I look up at him, silently wishing he would touch me again.
“It suits him.”
“Thanks.”
Mike nods and leans against the truck behind us, propping a leg up in a way that appears effortlessly cool, totally casual.
Meanwhile, I’m a mess of chaotic thoughts and restless energy.
What is his game here? Surely he’ll get tired of me.
He’ll definitely get tired of my boys; they are a handful and a half.
Is he looking for something serious or just a hookup?
I’ve never brought men around my boys. I don’t want them getting attached to someone who isn’t going to stick around for long.
And what if we did start something? Chestnut Mountain is full of gossips; it could get back to the boys.
I’ve done a good job of isolating ourselves since they were born.
I keep my circle small, don’t go out much, keep to myself.
Besides that, I don’t like relying on other people, not even my friends.
I learned at a young age that I could only count on myself, so I have a hard time letting people in.
I don’t know a lot of people in our small town outside of my little friend group, so it’s not surprising that Mike and I have never met before now.
I’ve seen him around before, of course, but I can’t seem to avoid bumping into him lately.
With my luck, if we did start something and it ended, I’d never be able to turn another corner without seeing him.
Mike leans toward me and lowers his voice. “I want to help you.” His clean, woodsy scent hits me, and fuck me, it smells good. Masculine. Sensual.
Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts, trying not to let the gravel of his voice or his hypnotizing scent influence the decision-making part of my brain. “We’re good. Despite our recent run-ins, I promise I’m not a total shit mom.”
He chuckles. “Never thought you were anything less than amazing.”
I turn to look at him. “What?”
“With them. Your lads.” He gestures to the ambulance and the excited squeals emanating from it.
“But that’s not what I’m offering to help with.” He winks.
Oh my God.
All the blood in my body rushes to my face as I try not to look at him again.
My cheeks are on fire, my hands are sweaty, and my panties are damp.
I try everything I can think of to calm down, every tool my therapist has given me, but nothing is working.
I can’t even control my reaction to him, and I hate it.
Except I don’t hate it. But I do hate that I like it so much.
Images flood my brain. Him shirtless, sweat dripping down his well-defined pecs, an axe on his shoulder. I swear I’ve already memorized every inch of his calendar photo and would recognize his body in a lineup while blindfolded, with only my hands to guide me.
Fuck, and now I can’t stop thinking about that.
His hand brushes against mine, and I look down to see his pinky graze the back of my hand, tracing slow circles there. I feel it in every inch of my body, every nerve ending standing at attention. Even my clit pulses as he continues his movements.
It’s impossible to look away from his hand. How is that one tiny movement the most erotic thing that’s happened to me in years?
I need to get laid.
I need to fuck the hot firefighter.
I need to get a hold of myself.
As if sensing the switch in my mood, he hooks his pinky with mine, tethering me to him. In a move he must have practiced before, he slides his hand up and over the side of my palm, only letting go of my pinky at the last second as he presses his palm against mine.
He leans close to my ear. “Think about it. I’m more than happy to help.” He squeezes my hand and then releases me as he slowly swaggers away from me. And I watch him go. Shamelessly. Because I clearly have no fucking self-control when it comes to this man.
It’s only once he’s gone that I look down and realize he’s slipped a piece of paper into my hand.
Please don’t be what I think it is.
I open it slowly, as if it’s the most sacred parchment carrying life’s greatest secrets to happiness.
Lucy and Mike’s Get Lucky List
Lucy’s Get Lucky List
1. Be less boring in bed – I can already tell you this doesn’t need to be here. Care to replace it with something else?
2. Role-play – Yes ma’am
3. Have multiple orgasms – How many is too many?
4. Tie someone up – I have plenty of rope
5. Sit on someone’s face – I volunteer as tribute
6. Spankings? – Giving or receiving? Okay, both it is
7. Hook up with a guy with an accent. Mr. March? I wish! – Your wish is my command
Underneath all his notes, he’s included the words “Call me” and his number.
I glance around nervously, paranoid that someone is looking over my shoulder, but I’m alone. After I take a few calming breaths, I thank the fire chief and load up the boys in the car, determined to push this from my mind.
It’s not until an hour after the boys have gone to bed that I pull out my phone and text Bella.
He has the list.
Bella
And he’s checking it twice?
This is serious.
Sorry, wrong holiday. Deep breaths. Putting on my serious pants.
They’re a little tight, aren’t they?
Yup. It’s been a while since I wore them. LOL Tell me everything.
I ran into him again at Meat Cute and he invited us to the station. Of course I couldn’t deny the boys a chance to see a real fire truck.
Ooh he’s smart. Getting the kids involved.
Exactly
And right before we left, he slipped a note in my hand.
What did it say?
It was my list.
But he made some notes on it.
[sends pic of the updated sex list]
OH. MY. GOD.
This is diabolical.
Never knew he had it in him.
Also, you’re a little sexy minx and I love it.
You’re not helping.
Are you going to do it?
No. Maybe? I don’t know.
What do I do?
In the words of Aunt Delilah, you go hump the hot firefighter.