Chapter 22 #2
“Thanks, but I don’t think I could fit into your clothes,” Jasmine replied with a chuckle. Jasmine was short, but she had a woman’s body. There was no way she could wear a kid’s shirt. Regardless, it was sweet of Rory to offer.
“Oh, right.” Rory smacked her palm to her forehead. “You have boobs.”
I choked on air, coughing as I pounded my chest with the side of my fist. Jasmine snorted a laugh, and Rory glanced between us with a confused pinch to her brow.
“Rory,” I croaked, “you can’t say things like that.”
“What?” she asked innocently. “She does. Look at her.” That was the problem. I’d spent way too much time looking at Jasmine, particularly at her perfect tits which were now the subject of this completely inappropriate conversation.
“Yes, I can see that,” I said, trying to regain some semblance of control here. “But it’s not polite to talk about other people’s body parts.”
“Okay,” she drew out, and I could see the wheels turning as she tried to comprehend where she’d gone wrong. “So I should’ve said that I don’t have boobs?” I dropped my head and groaned, questioning every parenting decision I’d ever made.
“That’s … not better. Let’s just stop talking about boobs, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed easily.
“I’d better get home so I can change,” Jasmine said, exiting the playpen.
“No! You can’t go,” Rory whined. “We haven’t watched the movie yet.”
“I’m sorry, chickadee. I have to get this shirt off, so his pee doesn’t get on my insulin pump,” she announced, and I noticed for the first time, she was holding the material away from her body.
“Can’t you just wear one of my dad’s shirts?”
Fuck, the thought of Jasmine wearing my shirt caused a fluttering sensation to settle in my chest. She looked at me with questioning in her eyes.
It was no big deal. I was reading too much into it. It was just a piece of clothing.
“Of course. Let me see what I can find.” I scrambled down the hallway to my room and yanked open my drawers.
Pickings were slim since I hadn’t done laundry yet.
I plucked an old t-shirt from the drawer that was quite snug on me since it was from my high school days when I played baseball.
I was slimmer back then and had far less muscle.
I wasn’t sure why I even still had it—other than for nostalgia’s sake—but I was glad I did.
It would fit her much better than anything else I owned.
“Thank you,” she said when I handed it over, and she disappeared into the bathroom to change.
Rory had already put Andy up, so we folded the playpen and put it away.
I pulled up the streaming app on my TV while I waited for Jasmine to emerge and plopped down on the couch next to Rory.
My breath caught when Jasmine crossed in front of us and turned to sit down on Rory’s other side.
“Montgomery” was printed across the back of the old t-shirt with my number below it.
Seeing my name on her back made something primal and possessive flare to life inside me. I wanted to claim her, to mark her as mine.
“Are you going to hit play?” Rory asked, snapping me out of my caveman spiral.
“Yeah, sorry,” I said, shaking myself, and started the movie.
When the movie was about three quarters of the way over, I hopped up to start on dinner.
It was just a store-bought pizza, so it didn’t require much prep.
I cut up some fruit for a side dish so I could make myself feel slightly better about serving my kid said frozen pizza while I waited for the oven to preheat.
Jasmine came over and stood on the other side of the kitchen island.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
I shook my head. “All I’ve got to do is pop this pizza in the oven,” I replied, slicing the last of the fresh pineapple. Jasmine plucked a chunk off the cutting board and popped it into her mouth.
“Mmm, this is my favorite.” She moaned before sucking the juice off her thumb. I had to look away so I wouldn’t stare at her mouth. Instead, I peered past her shoulder into the living room where Rory was completely engrossed in her movie.
“Take as much as you want,” I offered, handing her a bowl.
“Don’t mind if I do,” she said playfully, adding a few chunks to the bowl before pulling out her phone, presumably to check her levels so she could give herself a bolus of insulin.
It buzzed in her hand, and she pursed her lips as she read the message then stuffed it back in her pocket without replying.
My oven beeped, signaling it was done preheating, so I placed the pizza on the rack and set the timer. When I returned, Jasmine was scowling at her phone. She tucked it away again, and unease settled in my gut.
A few minutes later, it buzzed again. She chewed on her lip as she read what was on the screen before excusing herself to go to the bathroom. Worried, I waited for her in the hall, ready to confront her about what was going on.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, startling her. She drew up short and blinked those hypnotic hazel eyes at me.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she replied unconvincingly.
She tried to sidestep me, but I blocked her path.
My chest was nearly flush with hers. I could smell the sweet scent of her hair.
It took everything I had not to slip my arm around her waist and press her to me so I could ravage her mouth.
Those pouty pink lips would look even better swollen from my kisses.
“Tell me the truth,” I demanded. “Your phone keeps going off, and you look stressed when you check it.”
She released a sigh, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s my friends. We’re supposed to go to dinner and out for drinks tonight,” she confessed. “I tried to blow them off, but they won’t take no for an answer. They think I’m with a guy…” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced away.
“Why don’t you want to go?” I asked, stepping closer. The tips of our toes touched, and she had to crane her neck back to look up at me.
“I’m not ready to leave yet.” Her gaze fell to my lips, and her chest heaved with a ragged breath. “I’m having a good time.”
She was too close. I was playing with fire.
Having her in my home, spending time with my daughter, and wearing my shirt blurred too many lines.
I hated the idea of pushing her away, but I needed to put some space between us.
I needed to remember that she was twenty-one, that she should be going out with her friends and making memories, not hanging out with a man sixteen years her senior and his kid.
It was almost painful taking a step back, but I couldn’t think straight when I could feel the warmth radiating off her skin and smell the sweet scent of her perfume. And I needed all my faculties to do what I needed to.
“You can stay and finish the movie, but you should go out with your friends,” I said, and hurt flashed in her eyes. “There’s no reason to miss out on your plans when Rory will be asleep within the next couple hours,” I added to soften the blow. “Go have fun.”
She nodded her acquiescence, but she didn’t look happy about it.
Without another word, she pushed past me and returned to the couch, dropping down in her spot next to Rory.
When the movie was over, Rory begged her to stay for dinner, trying to squeeze every last minute of time with Jasmine out of this day.
“I can’t,” Jasmine replied with a sad smile. “I promised my friends I’d have dinner with them, and I’m already going to be late since I need to run home and change.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Andy peed on you,” Rory said regretfully.
“Don’t sweat it, kid.” Jasmine pulled her in for a hug and ran a soothing hand down her hair. “I’ve had a horse crap on my favorite pair of boots. A little chinchilla pee is nothing,” she declared with a dismissive wave. Rory giggled, covering her mouth with both hands.
“Thanks for letting me hang out with you today. I had so much fun,” Jasmine continued, her words ringing with sincerity. My daughter beamed up at her like she was her favorite fairy tale princess come to life.
“Me too!” Rory bid her goodbye, and before I could catch up with her to walk her out, she was yanking open the door. She didn’t even spare me a second glance before slipping out into the night.
I tried not to spend the rest of the evening wondering what she was doing and who she was with.
But I failed miserably.