Chapter Thirteen
He has kids. He has a dead wife. I don’t know what I thought before this moment.
I don’t know if I ever thought he had one to begin with.
Something just told me he was single, my gut I guess?
But a widower? That wasn’t even in my mind.
I balance on my good foot without putting weight on my other side as I undo my belt, then slip the button of my jeans through the hole and pull down the zipper.
Shit, this is annoying. I have to hold the bar in order to turn myself around and sit on the porcelain seat.
Since he’s keeping me here, I’m sure I’ll run into his daughters.
I lost my mama too. Maybe I’ll be able to share some bits of wisdom with them like, “Life’s tough, but you’re tougher!
Go kick its ass!” I roll my eyes at my ridiculousness.
I finish my business, flush, and hold on to the bar again as I stand and pull my pants back up.
“I’m ready!” I call through the closed door. The handle turns and I see his head peek through the opening.
“You decent?”
“Wouldn’t matter. You peeked before you asked.”
His deep chuckle sends a thrill through me. God, he’s so…yummy. I’ve never looked at a man the way I look at him! Who the hell am I? And what have I done to my usual self?
“Nothing I haven’t seen before. But next time I’ll ask before I peek.
” His long strides have him to me in three steps.
He wraps his gigantic arm around my waist and lifts me with it—just one arm.
He lowers me to the ground in front of the sink so I can wash my hands.
I reach for the bar of soap in a dish on the counter.
It looks like it has coffee grounds in it or something.
I lather it in my hands, then place it back in its spot.
My eyes catch his in the mirror as I rinse my hands under the stream of water.
“Are your girls at summer school or something?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Nope.” He huffs nonchalantly. “They’re with my niece and her husband—who's also the son I told you about. The one who will take care of Blaze. I haven’t asked him yet but…”
“Wait. This all sounds a little weird. I don’t get how he can be your son and married to your niece and… way older than your little girls…”
He’s laughing again, and there's a glint in his eye. “That’s a long story. But there’s no blood relation involved.
Don’t worry, we’re not playing games like that.
” I exaggerate my relief and wipe the back of my hand across my forehead.
“So where do you wanna kick that foot up?” He asks, changing the subject.
I think about it for a few seconds and settle on the recliner. Sounds like the easiest option.
“Recliner.”
His mouth hitches to one side, and he bends his knees to lift me in his arms. “Recliner…?”
Does he have an authority kink?
“Recliner please—boss.”