Chapter 9
This was the most humiliating, degrading, and embarrassing moment of Keys’ life.
And, of course, because the universe had to have the last laugh, it had to be witnessed by the woman Keys was head over heels in love with.
Beyond the sheer pain of his bad decision, Keys was so mortified that he wanted to die.
Just have the ground open beneath his feet, and swallow him whole.
Groaning at the pure mirth that was Rose’s hysteria, Keys hunched over the sink and just prayed to any deity listening that this was only a dream.
A nightmare. He was not, in fact, caught breaking into Rose’s apartment with the grand idea of waxing his nose and ear hairs with the kit he had delivered less than an hour ago.
Nope. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
“I’m going to go,” Keys barely managed to mumble.
Turning, he saw Rose now flat on her back on the ground as she gripped her ribs, tears streaming from her eyes.
As horrifying as this experience was for Keys, he paused his exodus when he realized that this was the happiest he’d ever seen Rose.
The unsympathetic, joyful, uncontrollable laughter might be at his expense—but she was happy.
And fuck, she was beautiful.
She’d been in Mount Grove for three days.
Three! And they’d barely spent any time together.
Hell, they’d spent more time communicating when she’d been hiding thousands of miles away on the other side of the continent.
It was one of the reasons he’d been hoping to catch her before she went to bed tonight.
In her defense, this was probably the first place she felt safe enough to actually relax and get a full night’s sleep since she was eighteen, maybe nineteen, years old.
Which Keys was thrilled about for her, as well as proud of himself for being able to provide such a space for her.
He wanted her to get as much sleep as she wanted and needed.
But he still missed her.
Sliding down the white wooden cabinet, Keys came to rest on his ass by her bent feet.
Honestly, the situation was hilarious. He just wished it wasn’t at his expense, but even he could admit that if it was anyone else but him that this had happened to, that he would be right on the floor next to her.
Realizing that the first stick he’d attempted to pull free was still attached to his hand, Keys tried to shake it off, but this only resulted in Rose laughing harder.
“Stop! Stop!” she begged, holding her stomach. “I can’t breathe!”
The sound of her laughter was so delightful to Keys that he couldn’t help but start to join her. But their combined humor was loud enough to draw the attention of little ears, too.
“Mommy?”
Rose shot upright, her legs tangling with Keys’ until they were laid over his knees while she hastily turned on the floor to find Oscar standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Like Rose, who wore a tank top and short pajama set, Oscar was dressed for bed.
Despite his intentions with Oscar, Keys had spent even less time with him than he had his mother. Though that one hundred percent had to do with the guilt still plaguing Keys, given his first interaction with the boy was to draw blood from him.
Rose was somehow twisted on the floor with her upper body facing the bedroom and her legs crisscrossed through Keys’ like a tic-tac-toe board. “Hi, baby. I’m sorry, did we wake you?”
Coming forward, Oscar nodded his little head. He walked into Rose’s chest, but she was so low to the ground, it looked like he was embracing her back more than her front. Wide blue eyes stared at Keys. “What’s wrong with your face?”
Even with one and a half ears currently plugged with wax, Keys heard Rose’s snort.
Experience with his club nieces and nephews had taught him that little kids had a way of just blurting out their thoughts, so he knew Oscar didn’t mean anything malicious by his blunt question.
Still, it did not stop Keys’ cheeks from burning hotter.
He tried to play it off, sitting up straighter against the lower cabinets.
“Nothing’s wrong with my face. This is how my face always looks.
” But, of course, Keys made the mistake of swiping his hand up and down in front of his nose, as if to demonstrate where his face was, and ended up hitting one of the sticks that was currently stuck in his nostril by wax that had practically hardened into cement.
Tears immediately filled his eyes as he let out the most pitiful whimper.
Deciding life just wasn’t worth living anymore, Keys sank down onto his left side on the linoleum floor of the kitchen.
Then again, if he’d gone down on his right, maybe it would have skewered the stick still embedded in his right ear all the way through to his brain and put him out of his misery.
Next to him, he felt Rose shift, which brought notice to the fact that their legs were still tangled together.
Opening his tear-filled eyes, Keys saw that she was now facing him on the floor and had maneuvered Oscar between them.
It was the closest Keys had been to either.
Ever. He didn’t know what he’d expected when Rose had agreed to come to Mount Grove.
A kiss had seemed too hopeful, and he’d forced himself not to even consider the possibility of sex, which of course, meant that the idea was on his mind constantly.
So he’d settled on a hug. Just a hug. Friends hugged all the time. It didn’t mean anything. Keys hugged his club brothers and their families all the time. Hugs could be platonic, too.
And yet, there had been nothing.
Christ, she was beautiful. Her hair was splayed out on the kitchen floor like a halo around her head, and he would make a fool of himself every day if it got her to smile at him like she was now.
Keys wasn’t experienced when it came to women.
Hell, Rose was the first woman he’d ever felt comfortable around that wasn’t related to him in one way or another.
He was sure that would be a very different case if they hadn’t spent so much time together online.
Even with her secrets, Keys felt he knew her better than anyone else in his life.
Rose was a part of him. She was his person—be that friend, or maybe something more.
He’d stated his intentions, both with her and with Oscar. The ball was now in her court, a sports expression Keys was proud of himself for using.
Rose tipped her chin towards him. “You were trying to do this for me?”
Keys started to make an embarrassed expression by crinkling his nose, but immediately regretted that decision.
“I’d only planned on trimming, but the wax kit was on sale…
” His excuse sounded pathetic, even to his own wax-blocked ears.
Letting out a big sigh, he admitted the truth with no excuses.
“I wanted to look nice for you. I didn’t think it would be this painful, though! Seriously, why do women do this?”
Oscar watched the two of them curiously. Sitting upright with his knees to his chest, he was sandwiched between their larger bodies.
“We’re raised to believe that the pain is worth it to achieve beauty,” Rose said sardonically.
Keys shook his head. “Nope, not worth it. Don’t you ever do this for me. No waxing, no shaving, no anything that could cause you pain.”
Rose raised an eyebrow at him. “What if I like the way I look by waxing?”
“Nope,” he snapped. “I don’t care. This is fu—” His eyes snapped to Oscar between them. “Fudging,” he quickly corrected, “ridiculous. Lingerie isn’t painful! Do that, but not this.” He carefully gestured to his face again.
“Clearly you’ve never worn a bra before,” Rose snorted.
Keys flushed, not having thought of that. “I mean… You could just go without,” he suggested in a small voice.
Rose beamed at him. “I can, can I? Thank you so much for your manly permission.”
Groaning, Keys turned his gaze up to the ceiling.
“I’m just going to stop talking now. Just leave me here to my misery.
I am now a permanent structure to your kitchen floor—oh my fucking God!
” Keys shouted in agony when Rose reached over, and without warning, pulled the stick, wax, and hair out of his right nostril.
His nose was on fire! Jesus Christ. What the fuck! Tears flowed out of his eyes as he tried to scramble away from the woman who had caused him the most pain he’d ever felt in his life. But their legs were still tangled together.
“Get him, Oscar!”
Next thing Keys knew, a small child came barreling down on top of his chest. While the force and weight wasn’t enough to actually hold him in place, Keys still fell back to the kitchen floor as Oscar pushed his little hands down.
Then a heavier, much more pleasant weight settled behind Oscar’s on Keys’ navel.
Keys froze as Rose straddled him—and fuck him, because there was no stopping his cock’s reaction to having her on top of him.
What the hell was he supposed to do? There was a child present, and he was lying here with an erection!
What if Rose thought that it was a reaction to Oscar and not her?
What if she felt it and wasn’t pleased or happy or aroused or…
Fucking hell, Keys had no idea what the appropriate response was.
He had a stick in his left nostril and right ear with wax still plugging his left ear from his failed solo attempt.
His nose burned like he’d stuck a hot poker up there.
Somewhere around here was a stick coated in hard wax, hair, and who knew what else.
And he was pretty sure he still had a stick secured to his hand.
This was the least sexiest situation he could have possibly hoped to have found himself in, and yet here he lay with an erection.
Rose smiled down at him. There was something knowing in her expression, like she knew exactly the tormented thoughts going through his mind and she thought it hilarious. Well, at least she didn’t think him a sick pervert.