17. Garrett
GARRETT
“I’m gonna paint your room, Peony,” I tell her once she’s finished eating her lunch. “But I need your help picking a color for the walls.” I reach over the staff-room coffee table, holding my phone out for Peony to see. “Which of these is your favorite?”
Athena takes the phone and shows her the five color swatches.
“We’ll narrow it down once we know the color family she likes.” No point looking at different shades of pinks if she prefers green or purple or orange.
The colors swatches are the popular kid-friendly choices. Soft shades that go well with Peony’s new furniture.
“Which of these pretty colors do you want on your bedroom wall?” Athena asks her.
Peony examines the screen, though I’m not sure if she understands what Athena is asking. But Athena will have a good idea what colors my daughter is drawn to.
Peony points to the pink, the green, and then the purple.
“The green would look great in your room.” I pull up several additional green options, and she swiftly picks one. It happens to be my favorite, but I don’t tell her that. I doubt she gives a damn what I like .
Peony cuddles closer to Athena, her attention on anything but me. Unlike before, she doesn’t seem completely terrified. Now it’s more like she’s extremely shy toward me. But that doesn’t mean the fear isn’t still there, lingering beneath the surface, waiting to let me know it hasn’t gone anywhere.
“Can I see what color you picked, Peony?” Zara joins her on the couch, leaving several inches between Peony and herself.
Peony flashes Zara a tentative smile. Shyness still cloaks her, but less so with Zara.
I hand Athena my phone to pass to Zara. Zara taps in my code and shows the phone to Peony. Peony points at the screen.
“Oh, that’s pretty. Your…” Zara looks at me, and I know what she’s silently asking.
I nod. Athena has referred to me as Peony’s father, and I’ve accepted she’s my daughter. Maybe it’s time Peony thinks of me that way too.
And what if she isn’t your daughter?
I ignore the voice. Even Zara seems convinced Peony is the result of my swimmer who went rogue.
“Your daddy and I are painting your bedroom tomorrow. And you’ll have the best room in the house.
It overlooks the backyard, where all kinds of magical things happen while you sleep.
Shhh .” Zara presses her finger to her lips.
“But you can’t tell anyone about the magic.
” The pitch of her voice drops to a near whisper. “It’s a secret.”
I laugh softly, the sound vibrating low in my throat. “Some things never changed from when you were a kid.”
I might be a fiction author, but of the two of us growing up, Zara had the brightest imagination. When we played make-believe during recess and after school, she was the one who came up with the best ideas, whether we were pirates, or knights fighting dragons, or on an Indiana Jones adventure.
I swipe to another set of colors and hand the phone to Athena. “What color would you like for your bedroom walls?”
She stares at me for a beat. “My-my walls?”
“As you might have noticed, I didn’t exactly decorate my house with a woman in mind. As Zara keeps pointing out.” I flash Zara a quick grin. “I thought you might like a different color on your walls. Something less…”
“Masculine?” Zara pipes in on a chuckle.
Athena takes my phone and studies the choices.
“Sorry they’re not as colorful as the ones for Peony. Zara thought the neutral shades would look good in the guest bedroom.”
“No, these are perfect. Thank you…thank you for giving me a choice.” Athena points to the blush beige and hands me the phone. “We should get back to the hotel now.”
“Oh, okay,” I reply, torn between wanting to spend more time watching my best friend interact with Peony, and knowing I don’t have time for that.
I need to drive to Eugene to pick up the paint for tomorrow.
And I need to get in my word count for today if I plan to make my deadline.
Besides, we’ll have plenty of time to spend hanging out with Peony once she and Athena move into my house.
Athena hoists Peony onto her hip. “Thank you for lunch.” She glances down at my daughter and waves at me. “Say bye-bye to your daddy, Peony.”
“Bye-bye.” Peony’s words are soft and tentative, her tone innocently sweet. She waves at me, her hand movement mirroring the flapping of a baby bird.
And I feel like I’ve just won a trillion dollars.
I wave and stand. “I’ll walk you two to the hotel. Or if you want, I can drop you off. My SUV is parked around the corner from here.”
“Do you have a car seat for Peony?” Athena asks.
I cringe. I hadn’t thought to pick one up in Eugene yesterday. Guess I can add that to the list of things I’ll need to pick up in the city tomorrow.
“It’s nice out. Peony and I can walk. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Athena turns to Zara. “Thank you for the food. It was delicious.” She starts toward the door.
“I’ll walk you to the hotel.”
“That’s okay,” Athena tosses over her shoulder to me, her tone bordering on dismissive. “We’ll be fine.”
Peony peers around Athena’s arm, her lips pressed in a little pout. I get one last glance at the combination of Kenda’s and my features, and then she and Athena disappear into the hallway.
I drop my ass into the armchair. “I can’t believe I forgot to get a car seat,” I mumble to myself, dropping my head on the back of the chair. I rub my hand down my face.
Zara sits on the armrest and drapes her denim-clad legs over my thighs. “Don’t be hard on yourself. You’re doing great.” She brushes aside a strand of hair on my forehead and winces.
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.”
I raise a challenging eyebrow. “Is that why you just winced when you said I was doing great?”
Confused divots form between her eyes. “I didn’t just wince.”
“Yes, you did.”
Zara’s features twist into an expression I recognize. She’s replaying in her head the last few minutes of our conversation, trying to figure out what the heck I’m talking about. “That wasn’t why I was wincing.”
“Then why did you make that face if you weren’t cringing at how bad a job I’m doing?”
“It’s nothing. I hurt my shoulders a few months ago, and they still bother me from time to time.”
I frown. “How come this is the first I’m hearing of this?”
“Because it’s no big deal.”
“If it’s no big deal, you wouldn’t have winced when you moved your shoulders.” I spread my legs apart and pat the spot between them. “C’mon, Golden Girl. Sit here and I’ll massage them. See if I can get the knots out.” Or whatever it is that has caused her discomfort.
“That might work.” She shifts to sit between my legs. Her ass lightly touches my package, and I have the sudden need to adjust myself.
She undoes the buttons of her cardigan and lets the top slide down her arms, leaving her shoulders bare under the thin strap of her tank top.
Blowing out a steadying breath, I push her hair aside, exposing her neck and shoulders, and gently massage her tight muscles, working out the knots.
This isn’t the first time I’ve massaged Zara’s shoulders, but something…I don’t know what…something feels…different…this time. There’s a fluttering in my chest, a breathlessness I can’t explain.
Zara drops her head forward, and a soft moan escapes her. The sound goes straight to my cock. Dammit, it’s not that way between us , I remind it. We’re friends .
The kind without benefits.
I blow out another slow breath. Mind back in the game, soldier.
I study the elegant length and beautiful copper skin of her neck and lean in ever so slightly, catching her sweet jasmine scent. A craving to trace my lips along her silky skin thrusts through me. A craving to see if she tastes as sweet as she smells.
I close my eyes, but it only boldens the craving. Heightens the way she penetrates my senses.
A memory taunts me of a time in college when Zara, Kenda, and I went dancing with our friends. It was before Kenda and I became an item. Zara had dragged me onto the dance floor, and her favorite song came on. She’d started to dance…
I swallow at the memory. She had turned her back to me and was dancing in a way that was so seductive, so hot, I was sure every guy watching her had cursed me for being the lucky bastard who got to be pressed against her like that.
I wanted Zara, my best friend, that night in a way I hadn’t wanted before. In a way that violated my No hooking up with friends rule.
A rule I later ignored when Kenda and I became involved. But that…that was different. If things had gone sour between us, it wouldn’t have been as bad as compared to if I lost Zara from my life.
Still kneading her muscles, I open my eyes and lean away. It doesn’t make a difference. My body still wants her. I clear my throat. Swallow harder. “Have you talked to Lucas? About your shoulders?”
“No. I talked to my physician a few months ago. She told me to take an NSAID, like ibuprofen, daily until it’s better.”
My hands stop moving but remain on her shoulders. “Have you been taking it regularly since she told you that?”
Zara nods, her coils brushing my hands .
“And it hasn’t improved?” I trace my finger along her shoulder, then catch myself. I jerk my hands away from her skin.
“Yes and no. It’s still there—so I probably did something again without realizing it. I’ve been careful not to aggravate it, but apparently not careful enough.”
“You should talk to your physician. Make sure it’s nothing serious.”
Zara straightens and turns to look over her shoulder. She winces once more.
“Dammit, Zara, talk to your physician.”
Zara goddamn freaking chuckles. “You’re gonna make a great father, Garrett. Always worrying…even when there’s nothing to worry about.” An emotion crosses her face, but it’s gone too quickly to pinpoint what it was.
“I just don’t like seeing you in pain.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m sure it will go away soon. It just means I can’t go running with you.” She snickers. “Oh, wait. I wasn’t going to anyway.” She shifts between my legs, her ass rubbing against my package once more, making it jerk in response. Down, boy.
She unfolds from the chair, using the armrests to help her to her feet.
I frown at the way she seems to need assistance to stand. “Well, in the meantime, I don’t think you should help me with painting Peony’s room tomorrow. It won’t do your shoulders any favors. And talk to Lucas. He might?—”
The staff-room door opens, and Troy enters, smiling like he and Jess had a great fuck before he came here. Which they probably did. “Ready to talk renovations?”
At least he’s getting some—one of the perks of being in a long-term relationship. The last time I saw any action was several months ago.
No wonder my cock came to life while I was massaging Zara’s shoulders. My reaction to her was nothing more than basic male instinct after going without for so long. A reminder my cock is tired of surviving on nothing but a hand job in the shower.
Now that I’m a father, and my daughter—plus, her nanny—will be moving in with me soon, jerking off in the shower will have to suffice. Screwing one-night stands at their houses or in hotel rooms isn’t possible when I have to hammer out words the next day. And flings are no longer an option.
Or they won’t be for the immediate future.
Not until I’ve sent Untold Mercy to my editor.
Thoughts of abstaining for a while might be circling in my brain, but that doesn’t stop the craving to touch Zara’s soft skin again.