Chapter Thirteen
Misty
Bernie finally wore me down. Zep sits across from me at the small kitchen table I inherited from Grandma, and Bernie looks like she just won the lottery.
“And then, in gym, I wasn’t picked last for softball,” Bernie says.
“That’s cool,” Zep says and takes seconds of the meatloaf I made. “I don’t remember if I ever got picked for teams. I was usually in trouble.”
She giggles. “You were always in trouble?”
“I was a naughty kid.”
The way he says naughty and glances at me makes my stomach twist. Thank God Bernie is going with her grandparents tomorrow night. I have a date lined up to help get rid of this sexual frustration making me tense. Then I can get Zep out of my mind.
“Oh, shoot,” Bernie says. “I forgot that I have to make a card for Carly. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”
I smile. Bernie’s never really had a true friend before, and I still haven’t met Carly. It’s one of the reasons I finally caved to let Zep come over for dinner. Now, she has to invite Carly.
“Do you need to be excused?” I ask.
She frowns and pouts. “Yes, please. I’m sorry, Zep. I can’t believe I forgot!”
“No worries, kiddo. Draw something pretty.”
After she scurries away, I slouch in my seat. “Do you have any idea who Carly is?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t really know any kids unless they’re related to the club. Or Bernie. Why?”
“Bernie’s had problems in the past with... friends. It makes me nervous because there’s always a reason Carly can’t come over for dinner for me to meet her. And she’s conveniently not at school if I’m there to get Bernie.”
“Got a last name?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Bernie’s tight-lipped with her details. Part of me worries she’s not real.”
“Maybe she’s worried you’ll embarrass her,” Zep offers.
“That’s very possible. I get so protective of her.”
“Until something happens, it might be best to let her have this one. She’s a pretty good judge of character. Present company excluded, of course.”
I snort. “You’re right. And she’s tougher than I give her credit for. I just don’t want her to have to be, you know? Anyway, let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”
“Chanel showed up yesterday.”
My eyebrows shoot up. As does my jealousy. “And?”
“I told her to…” He looks around to make sure Bernie’s not in earshot before saying, “…fuck off.”
This surprises me. Especially after his confession about their relationship. And his feelings for her. “Really?”
“I was kind of proud of myself. And shocked the hell out of both of us. I turned her away.”
“At the risk of offending you, I’m proud of you, too. I know how hard it can be to turn something you want away for what you need.”
His eyes focus on his plate. “It was time. One of us had to make the move, and it was never going to be her.”
“It sounds like she was the only one getting the best out of the deal. Why would she walk away?”
“I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be. I mean, I miss her, but it doesn’t hurt like I expected.”
Reaching out, I take his hand and hold back the gasp at the electricity shooting up my arm. I really need to get laid. “That’s because it was right.”
“I know,” he says, his eyes now staring at my hand holding his. “It’s a shift in my world, that’s for sure. But it’s time. I have to move on.”
“Find yourself a rebound and have fun,” I say, taking my hand back and squeezing my legs together.
The temp feels like it’s gone up ten degrees, and I’m melting. I’m so hot that I almost look around for a silent fire burning bright around us, but I know it’s just me. My desire.
“There’s really no need for a rebound. I haven’t been a monk, keeping it in my pants until she comes knocking. Sometimes it’s a week between visits, while others are a couple of months.”
“You’ve been sleeping with other women while sleeping with her?”
“A man has needs. And if she’s engaged to another man, I’m not committed to her.”
“Do you sleep around when you are committed?”
I don’t know where the question came from, and the moment it slips from between my lips, I wish I could take it back. There is no reason I need to ask this, let alone know the answer.
But I’m dying to know.
The fire in Zep’s brown eyes makes me bite my lower lip involuntarily. “When I’m with someone, I’m with them.”
“You’ve never strayed?”
He shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine. “If I’m in a position where I want to, and the urge is greater than walking away, I’d end the relationship. I’ve only had three notable relationships, and when I couldn’t turn Chanel away, I ended them.”
“So, a new relationship is only as long as it takes for Chanel to capture your attention again?”
Swallowing, he looks down at the table, and I miss his gaze. There’s something about being looked at so intently by Zeppelin Molloy that makes me ache.
“I’m done with her, Misty. I have to be.”
“Why?”
“Because she can’t give me what I want, and it’s time I find someone who can.”
“And what is it you want, Zep?”
I feel like I’m on a date. Asking the hard questions of a date you want to see beyond just the next morning.
“Great sex.”
I snort. “You don’t need commitment for that.”
“Great sex with one person.”
God, sex with Zeppelin Molloy must be great. I mean, his engaged ex kept coming back for more. “Well, you’re one of a few men who feels that way these days, it seems.”
“What do you want, Misty?”
“Great sex,” I blurt out. My hand clasps over my mouth as I laugh. “I mean, that’s… yeah. That’s what I mean.”
His eyebrows rise, and he gapes at me. “Really?”
“Okay, look. I’m a monk or nun or whatever you call someone who’s celibate for fifty-one weeks out of the year.
I’ve never really dated that much because it’s too difficult being a single mom.
It gets complicated, but one week every year, she goes to her grandparents’ house, and I use that week to get my fill. ”
“Of dick?”
We both burst into laughter. It sounds absurd. “Uh, yeah. Pretty much. Bernie’s going with her grandma after school tomorrow for spring break, and I have a date. If things go according to plan, I’ll be a very relaxed mother when she returns.”
Leaning his elbows on the table, he clasps his hands together over his half-eaten meatloaf. “If you need help with that—even when Bernie’s home—I’m just across the street.”
Damn if I haven’t already thought about that many, many times.
“One week is what I allow myself,” I say. “She deserves a devoted mother, and I give that to her.”
“But sometimes mamas need a little help. And not just when it comes to money or chores or raising a kid. Sometimes, mamas need to get under a man who knows what the fuck he’s doing to make her forget everything. Like her own name.”
Jesus. This is forward. And so fucking hot. I fan my face, no longer caring how I come across to him. We’ve already laid it all out on the table.
“When I get close to the week where I essentially slut it up, my libido knows. It cranks up, and I have these thoughts I normally wouldn’t have.”
“These thoughts include me?”
“With many men,” I say, cringing. “Not like that. But once I get my fix, I’m back to normal. We’re friends, and I don’t want to ruin that with a night of fun.”
“But what fun would it be?” he says with a wink. “And it also tells me you’re not getting it good enough during that week.”
I blink at him as he digs back into the meatloaf that has to be cold by now. “What?”
“If it was really good, a week wouldn’t be enough. You’d need it long afterward,” he says, shoving a forkful into his mouth. “Mediocre at best. Men these days just really can’t get the job done.”
And now I need a cold shower. Or maybe I should just grab ice from the freezer to shove down my panties. That should work for a while.
“There’s also another thing to keep in mind with us… considering exploring something beyond our friendship. Bernie. She’s invested in you, and I don’t want to create issues for her. She picks up on everything.”
This simmers him down, and he leans back in his chair. “That’s a good point. As much as I’d love to help this hot mama in front of me out, I’d be crushed if I lost my friend in the process.”
Zep sees Bernie as his friend? That’s sweet. And really sexy.
Damn it!
I’m saved from finding words to say while my brain short circuits when my phone rings. “Excuse me,” I say and walk over to my purse, aware of how wet my panties are. “Hey, Barbara.”
“Misty, hi,” Ben’s mother says. “I’m so sorry, but we can’t pick up Bernadette tomorrow afternoon. It’ll have to be the following morning.”
“What?”
I know she doesn’t know what I spend this week doing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she suspects. She’s a woman, after all.
“I’m sorry, but Walt’s mother was admitted to the hospital with chest pains two nights ago, and she won’t be released until tomorrow morning. We have to help get her settled at home, so we wouldn’t be in Gravelton until very late. And I don’t like Walt driving that late.”
My heart sinks. My date is at seven tomorrow night, and I have plans. Big plans.
“I know Bernie will be disappointed, but I think we can make that work.”
“If you want, we can keep her an extra night. I know you do all the things single folks do when they’re childless while she’s staying with us.”
Well, if that isn’t the eloquent way to call me a whore. “Let’s leave that up to Bernie. If she wants to stay an extra day, I’ll make sure she has clothes, but if she wants to come home, I won’t make her stay.”
“See you soon.”
Groaning, I want to cry and stomp my foot. I have to reschedule my date. But I think I might explode. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
“Something wrong?” Zep asks.
I jump, forgetting for a moment he’s sitting at my kitchen table. How I forgot this sex god of a man was there, I have no idea, but I did.
“That was Ben’s mom. She can’t get her tomorrow after school like planned. They won’t be here until the morning, and I have plans tomorrow night I have to cancel.”
“I could watch her,” he offers.
“What?”
Smiling, he leans his arm over the back of the chair and turns his body toward me. “I can come hang out with her. Maybe let her get her kitty fix for an hour, and then we’ll watch a movie or something here until it’s time for her to go to sleep.”
“You’d do that?”
“I never deprive a woman from getting the release she craves. And no offense, Misty, but you look like you could really use it.”
I want to slap him. Throw something at him. Anything. Instead, I just laugh. “Fuck you.”
“Only if you ask real nice.”
Oh, how I’m tempted.