Round Twelve #2
“I’m not not looking for a body to spend a little time with though.
Ya know, in the thirty-seven seconds I have a month where I’m neither a dad, nor am I on shift or dealing with everyone else’s nonsense.
” His eyes drop to my legs. “Would you feel right setting these dates up, knowing I was only there for one thing?”
My lips peel back with disgust.
“I’m just a man, after all. A single, healthy, thirty-three-year-old man whose life tends to be quite stressful.
Such circumstances leave me in need of…” His green-eyed gaze flicks up and stops on mine.
“Affection. If you’re offering to find me a bed buddy, then I’m happy to discuss.
But you should know I prefer things a little rough, so keep that in mind when you’re shopping. ”
An enraged growl vibrates from the base of my throat. “You’re despicable.”
He chuckles, entirely too comfortable in his piggishness.
“Unfortunately for us both, I heard all that whacko stuff you spouted off last night about true love, which leads me to the conclusion any woman you set me up with is looking for forever.” He clicks his tongue.
“I don’t want forever, Magnolia, I just want a pair of panties to chew on. ”
“Why do you insist on being so friggin’ difficult?” I dart under his arm and slip through the gap between him and the doorframe.
“Hey! Wait!” He spins. “You can’t just come into my house, Magnolia!”
I stalk through his living room and pass a couch overflowing with unfolded laundry.
The floor is littered with balls much the same as those I found in my backyard, and his coffee table holds five different plastic cups, all with varying volumes of liquid still in them.
My heart pounds wildly in my chest, but as I turn back and face him, my pulse only grows faster as I spy a flat-screen television mounted to the wall above the fireplace, a football game already playing with the volume down low, and below that, framed pictures lining the mantel.
It makes complete sense that Aria Sinclair would change over the years—we all did—but her eyes stayed exactly the same, and in the picture furthest to the right, she smiles with her brand-new, red-faced, squishy cheeked baby.
God. Did she know yet that she was dying?
Beside that is a framed photograph of Aria with a round belly, her hand delicately sitting below the bump, and a wide smile creasing her face.
In the photo beside that, Aria and Billy pose on their wedding day.
A wave of profound sadness settles in my heart, not even because of the woman who no longer lives, but for the happiness in Billy’s eyes. The smile I haven’t seen since he was a child. His complete trust in the world, and the belief that everything would be okay.
I bring my eyes across to the man he is today, the anger he holds in every word he speaks, the intolerance in his actions. The exhaustion he wears like a badge of honor.
My breath hitches as grief bites at my soul.
“For fuck’s sake.” Growling, he stalks into the room and slaps each framed photograph down, robbing me of their beautiful smiles.
“This is why I don’t date.” He points an accusatory finger at my face.
“This is why I can’t be bothered with all the bullshit.
Because women cry every fucking time, and crying never segues to panty chewing.
What’s a man gotta do to get laid around here? ”
“Dad!” Jeremy’s footsteps thunder across the second floor and onto the staircase. “Dad! I got another loose tooth!”
I draw a shuddering breath and shake my hair back, resetting myself to the aloof, untouchable Magnolia Sava I pretend to be.
Pasting on a smile, I watch as Jeremy bounds off the staircase and skids to a stop in the living room.
His little chest heaves, and his smile is broad enough to rival Billy’s on his wedding day.
Stunned by my presence, he claps his hands over his chest to hide…
well, his nipples, I suppose. “Maggie!” Forgetting his father completely, he dashes across the room and crashes into my legs.
“I’ve got another loose tooth, Maggie!” He opens his mouth wide and forgoes his modesty to point at the offending tooth.
“If I start wigglin’ it today, it might come out by the weekend.
And if it comes out by the weekend, my dad might take me to the shops so I can buy a new basketball. ”
I glance around the living room, my lips quivering with a smile. “Don’t you already have enough basketballs?”
“Nuh-uh! Also, I learned the hip escape at the gym today.” Like a boneless doll, he drops to the floor with a startling thud and… appears to be having a seizure. Objectively, I think he’s showing me his new skill. “See!” He seizes in the opposite direction. “It’s pretty good, huh!?”
“This is why my son always has bruises,” Billy grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “He does it to himself. Keep that in mind next time you assume I’m beating on him.”
“Why are you here anyway, Maggie?” Jeremy energetically bounds to his feet, his eyes wide like saucers and his hands easily coming to my hips to hold me in place.
“I said how we should invite you over to eat out of the food drawer, too, cos you live next door alone and stuff. But Dad said you wouldn’t wanna. ”
“You have a food drawer?” I hug my folder and look Billy’s way. “Singular? One drawer?”
He purses his lips. “Maggie doesn’t want to stay, buddy. And she especially doesn’t want to eat out of the food drawer.”
“Are you making soup, then?” Jeremy’s hands drop away, fast as a whip. “Are you looking for children to put in your soup? Cos my dad said you don’t do that—”
“I don—”
“But then he said if I didn’t pick my shoes up and put them away, he was gonna yeet me next door and plop me straight into your cauldron. So now I don’t even know.” His breath bounces with nerves. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Maggie. But you’re too pretty to be a bad witch, huh?”
Warmth floods my cheeks. “That was a sweet thing to say.”
“Even my dad said you were pretty. And he doesn’t really say—”
“Jeremy!” Billy leaps away from the fireplace and wraps his hand around the back of his son’s neck, yanking him to the right and walking him through the room.
“The shower is still on, but there are no bodies inside it. The bathroom door is open, and I know that because I see steam up there already.” He releases him with a shove and points upward.
“Get upstairs, have your shower, put your jammies on, then find a roll of duct tape and seal your lips.”
“But, Dad—”
“Go!”
Frenzied, Jeremy charges upstairs with his little arms pumping and his shoulder blades popping with every step.
Beet red, Billy brings sheepish eyes back to mine. For the first time since my tumultuous return to Plainview, he presents me with something other than a jerk intentionally trying to trip my temper.
“I’m gonna need you to get out of my house now, Magnolia.”
“You told him I was pretty?”
“No comment.” He stalks across the room and latches onto my biceps, almost knocking my paperwork to the floor as he tugs me off balance. “Go home. Stay away from my house. Pass the dumb prize on to someone else.”
“I can’t pass it on!” I slip out of his grip like a common criminal evading arrest, then I dart across the room and duck into his kitchen to find more balls. More dirty plastic cups. A fridge with the door still open, and a dining table with a stack of folded laundry.
Living room: unfolded.
Kitchen: folded.
It’s a production line, apparently.
Carefully sweeping the clothes to the left and saying nothing of the Spiderman underwear on top, I plop my folder on the table and tug out a chair so the legs scrape across the floor.
“I’m your love expert, Billy Caster. I will find love for you, and if you try to chew anyone’s panties off while representing my agency, unless the wearers of those panties want you to chew them off, then I’ll break your hands and ruin all your fun for the next little while.
” I settle on my chair, open the folder and pick up my pen, then I bring my eyes up to an entirely unenthusiastic cop and flash a wide smile.
“Let’s start with the past. Tell me about the dates you’ve been on in the last twelve months.
Where’d you take them? What did you talk about?
How did it go?” I start on the first line and make my notes.
Name: Wilbert “Billy” Caster.
Age: 33.
Preferences…
“What type of woman are you typically interested in these days? Short? Tall? Blonde? Brunette?”