13. Paris
THIRTEEN
PARIS
“What do you think, boys?” Austin asks, Rowan and Rhys flanking his sides as they admire their handiwork.
The living room has been completely transformed, blankets draped over every surface that would stand still—minus the couch, which I’ve been told is my seat for the evening—while they built their forts.
They even talked me into bringing some string lights up from the basement, giving the space a soft glow now that the summer sun is setting outside the windows.
“We did a pretty good job, Coach,” Rhys says with pride written all over his face.
Austin turns his attention to Rowan, who doesn’t speak, but raises his fist for them both to bump.
I can’t help but laugh at the whole situation, giddiness swirling in my chest at the sight of my boys having fun with someone who isn’t their uncle.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother. I love the unique relationships he’s built with all three of my kids.
But sometimes, I feel like they need more than we can offer, especially when their own father treats them like they don’t exist. Having Austin here when he could’ve chosen to be anywhere else speaks volumes, telling them that they deserve to be a priority even when their own flesh and blood sees them as an option.
“Alright then,” Austin says, nodding tightly.
“Why don’t the two of you grab some pizza, and I’ll make sure your mom has everything she needs before we start the movie?
” They both scurry into the kitchen like we’ve done this a million times, leaving me and Austin alone as he plops down on the couch beside me.
“Thank you for doing that,” I say, lifting my chin toward the two expertly crafted dwellings.
“Blanket forts seemed like an amazing idea when I suggested it to the boys this morning, but that was before I knew I’d be on my feet all day in the hot sun.
I didn’t even realize how exhausted I was until we got back and I attempted to mow the lawn. ”
“Do you always do that?”
I nod in response to his question, causing his brows to furrow.
“Nobody helps you?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Who would help me? Memphis is gone most of the summer, not to mention he has a house of his own to take care of. My relationships with my parents have been strained since my divorce. I try not to ask them for anything because it always comes with a lecture about how I should’ve stayed married.
I really don’t mind doing it myself, honestly.
It’s just a little difficult when the boys are home. I always figure it out, though.”
He angles his body toward me, laying a gentle hand on my bare knee.
Warmth blooms under his touch, but I try to look unaffected because I don’t want him to pull away.
Every time he’s put his hands on me, from the way he carefully held my waist outside Bailey’s bathroom to how he so tenderly inspected the bump on my head in the storage closet, I always find myself wanting more.
It’s not a sexual thing, although he’s quite literally the hottest man on earth, but it gives me a feeling of being cared for in ways that I’m not accustomed to. Ways that I really, really like.
“You shouldn’t have to do everything alone,” he says, and I lift my gaze to find him looking distressed.
It’s almost as though the thought of me mowing my own lawn with a screaming baby on my hip is causing him physical pain; his brows drawn together as his thumb ghosts across my skin.
His stare is so intense that I can’t help but shrink into myself a little, my shoulders curling inward before I lift one into a half shrug.
“This is what I wanted,” I reply softly. “And even though I get a little tired and overwhelmed now and then, it’s still a million times better than the life I was living before. I’ll happily take sleepless nights and long days doing yard work over that.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but closes it immediately, a rough swallow working its way down his throat.
Anxiety swirls in the pit of my stomach, and I can’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed about my current situation.
I’ve already word vomited way more than I should to him at work; now here we are, him seeing how I’m barely hanging on with all the items that have been piled on my plate since I left Braxton.
To be fair, he left most of the household responsibilities to me, but I managed.
Now that I’m working and making sure the boys are getting to and from football, it’s hard to find the time.
I’ll get used to it, eventually. I know I will.
His stare burns into mine. “Let me help you, Baby Girl,” he rasps, my breath catching at the nickname.
He said it in the storage closet after I bumped my head, but part of me thought I was hearing things.
Or maybe our twelve-year age gap has something to do with it, and he only sees me as Memphis’ little sister, who still hasn’t figured out how to survive on her own.
I shake my head. “Austin, no. I’ve got this, really. The last thing you should be doing is working with the Renegades six days a week, then adding my shit on top of it. You’re supposed to be enjoying retirement.”
One corner of his mouth twitches, the pad of his thumb still coasting along my heated flesh.
It tickles, but in a way that’s soothing.
“First of all, just because I’m at the facility that much doesn’t mean I’m working.
Half the time, I’m just wandering around because I’m bored out of my mind at home.
” He pauses, his ardent expression morphing into a boyish smirk.
“It’s just a little landscaping between friends, Paris—something I truly enjoy doing, and it’ll free you up to accomplish other tasks.
Or…” His brows lift dramatically. “Maybe you could take a day off for once, since you’ve already admitted to me that you never do. ”
A hint of a smile pulls at my lips, and I roll my eyes playfully.
I shouldn’t be okay with this. I worked so hard to get to a point where I could do everything on my own, and while I’m still learning the ins and outs, I’m getting there.
Do I really want to allow someone else to help me with things I should be doing by myself?
Will it make me look weak and helpless if I do?
Because I didn’t agonize for months before finally leaving a toxic, loveless marriage just to turn around and rely on someone else.
Nonetheless, the sincerity behind Austin’s captivating ocean eyes makes me feel like it’s okay to accept his offer, just this once.
If anything, it’ll afford me a couple extra hours to do some of the things I haven’t had time for, like organizing Lennon’s closet and donating everything she’s outgrown. This is a good thing.
I swallow thickly, nodding. “Okay.”
Deep dimples sink into his cheeks, and his fingers flex around my knee, causing my heart to speed up just the slightest amount.
I’m obviously affection-deprived after almost two years without a man’s touch, so I try not to hyperfixate on the way the connection—which is completely innocent—makes me feel like I’m about to levitate right off the couch.
But the attempt is short-lived as he looks me dead in the eyes, lowers his voice, and utters the two words that have been on replay in my mind since the last time I heard them.
“Good girl.”
Why does that affect me so much?
I try to conceal the slow, shaky breath that pushes from my lungs, but it’s nearly impossible with the proximity.
Somehow, we’re much closer than we were just minutes ago, and the way his gaze drops down to my mouth for just a split second has me wondering if he’s feeling any of the things I am.
The urge to close the space between us is almost too much to bear, despite how stupid it would be to do so.
I want to taste his lips—to know what it would be like to kiss someone so strong, dominating, and sexy.
Unable to fight the pull, I relent, leaning in just the smallest amount because I have no idea what I’m doing.
The last thing I expected when I opened the door was that I’d be this close to him just hours later, ready to risk it all by crossing a line I promised myself I wouldn’t.
It’s one thing to crush on him from across the football field—I’m sure I’m not the only parent who feels that way when they see how good he is with the kids—but this is far beyond a little fantasy.
This is real life, and it could complicate everything.
Clearly noticing my hesitation, Austin eases forward, letting me know that we’re definitely on the same page.
My heart gallops, my tongue darting out to wet my lips because holy mother of balls, we’re actually about to kiss.
Time slows, the tension between us so thick that you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it.
But before we get a chance to fully give in, we’re plummeting back to reality as both boys come running in our direction.
“Mom!” Rhys shouts, two sets of bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. We separate abruptly, guilt written all over our expressions as I widen my gaze, trying my best to look cool, calm, and collected.
“What’s up, buddy?” I ask, my voice cracking a bit as both boys come barreling into the living room with plates of pizza in their hands. My heart rate slowly returns to its baseline, a chill hitting my skin where Austin’s hand was lying just moments ago.
“Rowan taught me how to use the pizza cutter! Look!” He holds up the masterpiece, which looks like it’s been run over no less than twenty times. To be fair, the blade is dull and needs to be replaced, but with everything else going on around here, I keep forgetting to buy a new one.
“Wow!” I reply, doing my best to mirror his excitement.
It’s a feat with the way my brain is still reeling from that almost-kiss, but thankfully, the boys are too excited about the movie to let the exchange go on for very long.
Within minutes, they’re settled into their forts, the opening scene of the newest comic book adaptation fading in as I slump back against the cushions.
Austin and I barely speak for the rest of the night, saying a quiet goodbye when the end credits begin rolling up the screen.
Both boys are fast asleep, and surprisingly, Lennon hasn’t so much as stirred since I put her down earlier.
I’m sure that’ll come back to bite me in the ass around three in the morning when she’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but I’ve never been one to wake a peaceful baby—especially after such a long day.
I toss and turn for hours, the events of the evening playing over and over in my head. Regret sits heavy in my chest, but I’m not sure if it’s because we didn’t kiss or because we almost did.
Falling for Austin Baker would be a risk—one that has the potential to create a domino effect of destruction if it didn’t end well.
Not only does he have a personal and professional relationship with Memphis, but he’s also my kids’ coach.
On top of that, I’d still have to see him every day at the Renegades facility.
Plus, I really like the people in our friend group.
The last thing I want is to make things weird for them if Austin and I crossed a line and it ended up not working out.
I didn’t spend my whole life longing for bonds like these, just to turn around and put them in jeopardy.
So why, even with all these reasons, am I still wishing I knew what it felt like to have his lips pressed against mine?