Chapter 30 #2
I’m not getting caught in her games. I turn my back to her and take a deep breath.
And then another. When I turn around, I exhale long and slow.
“How did you get into my apartment?” It dawns on me a second too late.
“The key for Beck.” Fuck. “It’s for him, not you.
You are not allowed to enter my apartment without him with you, or I’ll have security lock you out completely. You understand?”
The door finally opens, and my son barrels out into my arms. “Daddy!”
I pick him up and hug him tightly. Over his shoulder, my eyes are still on his mother. “It’s good to see you, buddy.” I keep him anchored on my side with his little backpack on his shoulders and a toy horse in each hand.
“Look what I got. Just like Bluebelly and Skyward.”
Seeing him so happy is contagious despite what happened between Anna and me. This is what matters. Our son. “So cool. Can’t wait to play with you.” I set him down and scoot him toward Anna. “Give your mom a hug goodbye.”
Her demeanor mollifies, and she kneels to hug him. Kissing him on the side of the head, she says, “I love you. See you next Sunday.”
“Love you, too. See you soon.”
He trots down the steps, neighing. I’m sure she loves that . . . Marcel doesn’t stand a chance against the roots anchoring Beck to Texas. I follow him, but I stop when she says, “Thank you for doing that.”
I give her half a nod and walk away from her, scooping Beck onto my back. “Guess what?” I ask, peering over my shoulder at him.
His smile changes my entire mood. “What?”
“We’re going to the Peach Festival and Rodeo in Texas during our next visit.” I look back once to catch Anna rolling her eyes, then turning to go inside the brownstone. “And there’s this event that little kids can participate in called Mutton Bustin’.”
“What’s mutton busting, Daddy?”
I grin because he’s going to love this. “It’s an event I won when I was seven.”
“But I’m only six.”
“Eh, you’re a Grange.” I turn the corner to head to Central Park. “You’ll do great.”
“Yeah, I’m a Grange,” he states matter-of-factly. “Just like you.”
“Just like me, buddy.”
That kid wore me out. We were both in bed by eight o’clock. I also have big intentions of running on the treadmill at five in the morning to get back on track. Gotta stay fit for Pris since I realized she has a slight obsession with my abs.
I keep my promise.
After getting Beck ready for school and feeding him, we head out.
It’s a quick drop-off because he loves going there.
He has friends and great teachers, and according to him, they don’t give much homework, which is the biggest selling point.
I don’t blame him. I went to school for the social aspect.
I was just lucky enough to have some natural intelligence since I never cracked a book in high school and skills on the field to get me recruited on a full ride to be able to go to college.
Just before lunch at my desk is over, I get a text from Pris.
I’ll never look at the barn the same.
I text:
Wait until you see what I can do to you in a peach orchard.
Three dots roll across the screen and then disappear. I’ll assume I’ve left her speechless, in a good way, and probably turned on since my girl likes getting it on with me.
A text appears:
Peach juice just ran down my chin and hit the rounds of my breasts. See?
A photo appears of her cleavage with a shiny trail of juice vanishing between her tits. Fuck me. I’ll be jerking off to this later, but right now is not the time to get a hard-on.
I reply:
My naughty girl. You just wait. I’m going to lick that juice from every inch of your body.
“Tagger?” A knock on the door startles me, causing me to fumble my phone and drop it on the floor. Kendra says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Am I interrupting anything?”
“No. It’s fine. Come in.” I retrieve the phone and then slide the chair forward to make sure I’m covered. The screen lights up, so I flip it to face downward.
“I need to confirm something.” She pulls a sticky note off her pad and shows me. “I found Peaches Sundries & More in Peachtree Pass, Texas. I called, and they said they can take the order over the phone. But you didn’t give me a name, so I couldn’t place it.”
Speak of the devil . . . “Pri—Christine Greene.”
“From you, sir?”
Oh. Hmm. This is tricky. “Send it from a secret admirer.”
I catch the smile tickling her cheeks. “I take it those are her favorite?”
“Yes, but please don’t make a big deal of it. The only reason I’m not leaving my name is because they know me there. Small-town gossip travels fast.”
“Well,” she says, sitting down. “It’s a very romantic gesture. Thoughtful.”
I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but I typically keep the women in my life out of the workplace to steer clear of being office fodder as entertainment. Tapping a pen on the desktop, I lower my voice. “Please keep this between us.”
“You have my word. But I did want to mention the credit charge will be attached to your name. So they’ll see it.”
“Oh, right. Good point.” I swivel to face the windows to figure this out.
But then she says, “I could pay for it on my card, and you can just send me the money.”
Turning back to her, I ask, “You’d do that for me?”
She beams a smile so bright the light reflects in her eyes. “I’m all for love and gestures from the heart.” Walking toward the door, she adds, “Glad I can help. I’ll let you know when the order is placed.”
“Thank you. I owe you one, Kendra.”
She stops in the doorway, and says, “You don’t owe me anything unless it works out. And then I want an invite to the wedding.”
Wedding? “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
She shrugs and lifts an eyebrow. “Are we?”
Gone before I can answer, I ponder that thought. It’s not as far-fetched as the idea of marriage used to be. We just have to break it to the world that we’re a couple first.