Chapter 17
There’s been an atmospheric shift in the house since the night Mia gave me one-million-and-one reasons to throw Carter fucking Whitaker into shark-infested waters.
She’s lighter, somehow. Hell, I’m lighter, seeing her comfortable in our home, not coiled tight, ready to flee. Our home.
I’m also unburdened knowing I have that piece of shit dead to rights.
My “other” job of collecting and disseminating information as currency came in handy. He made my job insultingly easy. He’s fucking trash at covering his tracks. Arrogance will be his downfall, and I’ll happily bury him beneath the rubble.
The bell to the shop door dings.
“Hey, big bro!” Olivia chirps, hoisting herself up to sit on the front counter.
I’d say good thing the store is empty, but it wouldn’t matter if there was a line of customers. Hurricane Olivia does whatever the hell she wants.
She doesn’t wait for me to respond, because she’ll talk my ear off whether or not I’m paying a lick of attention.
"Have you seen James lately? Hoo-eee that man is looking fine," she taunts, knowing full well I’ll go postal if he ever lays a finger on her.
“Liv…” I growl.
“Keep your panties on.” She rolls her eyes with a smile, satisfied from spiking my blood pressure for the day.
“What do you want?”
“So friendly, Grey! You should go to kindergarten with Everly and learn how to make friends.” Her smile is maniacal, so pleased with herself.
I glower back, waiting for her to get to the point. I’m not busy, but I hate small talk and whatever this nonsense is.
“Sheesh, can’t a girl check on her brother?” I raise an eyebrow. “Fine. I miss Harper, I know Mia’s an incredible nanny, but I miss having the little munchkin. Do you think I could take her one day this weekend?”
“Of course. But I’m telling you right now, you’re going to have to pry her out of Everly’s tiny hands. They’re inseparable.”
“I’m happy to take both of them, that would be so fun. Do you think Mia would mind?”
I scratch at my unshaven face. I’ve never preferred a beard, but my facial hair starts growing back the second I pat my face dry from shaving. So, I live with perpetual stubble.
“You’ll have to ask her. I don’t think she’s let Everly out of her sight, other than for school, and for good reason.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is she okay? Did something happen?” Olivia pelts me with rapid-fire questions.
“If she wants to share with you one day, she will. Otherwise, don’t go digging around. I swear to god, Liv. Leave her alone.” My definitive tone catches her off guard.
“Protective, are we?” she teases.
“Jesus. Can we be done? Don’t you have other villagers to terrorize?”
“You’re no fun.” Liv hops down from the counter, straightening her jeans. “I’ll just go find James. He’ll pay attention to me.”
That little she-devil. “You’d better not.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.” She flashes me a feline smile. “I’ll text Mia and see if she’s okay with me taking the girls this weekend.”
She blows out of the store as quickly as she came, and I’m exhausted. I flip the store sign to “Be Back Soon” and lock up.
My legs are heavy, climbing the stairs to the apartment. How did my grandfather do it all those years? It’s not like the structure can support an elevator.
Music plays loudly behind the front door, and I open it cautiously, enter slowly, and softly close it behind me.
The scene before me is like seeing a sunrise for the first time.
80s music is blaring from a streaming app on the TV.
Mia’s performing like it’s a concert for a sold-out stadium of screaming fans. Her thick curls are piled on top of her head, pieces falling from her enthusiastic dancing. She’s singing into a wooden spoon, covered in brown batter.
I’m stricken, having never seen her so carefree, and that she’s become so comfortable living here she can let loose.
But none of that is what I’m captivated by.
Mia’s shaking her tight little ass wearing only black cotton bikini briefs and a white ribbed tank top.
Is this what she does every day when the girls are at school before I come home for lunch? Does she write her notes to me in her panties?
The song changes to “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC and Mia transforms.
The spoon lands in the bowl full of batter and she starts her performance.
Her right heel keeps time, shaking her ass in those sinful panties, that by all measures are modest, but right now, look like the sexiest lingerie.
Those fucking hips make figure-eights, her hands tangling in her falling updo. I can’t take my eyes off her ass, desperately wishing I was pressed against her, my hips cradling the soft flesh, my hardening dick nestled between her ass cheeks.
She hooks a finger in the hair tie and pulls it out, sending messy golden waves cascading down her back.
She sings along to a particularly suggestive line with a wicked little grin, completely unaware of what she’s doing to me.
I grip my cock through my jeans, granting the faintest hint of relief. Relief that would come so easily if I were to slip inside her.
God fucking damnit. I’m a dirty old man. What kind of sick fuck gets off on a gorgeous, kind, intelligent, sweet woman dancing half naked in their kitchen…
She resumes stirring the batter as the iconic chorus fills the charged air.
I’m feeling more and more like a pervert the longer I stand here with a boner, with Mia oblivious to my invasion of her privacy. But all thoughts of propriety disintegrate when she licks batter right off the mixing spoon.
What I’d give to be that spoon…
As she dances like a wet dream and makes chocolate baked goods like a sweetheart, I lose myself. Lost in the music. Lost in the fluid movement of her body. Lost in the fantasy of having all of her.
The next line hits too close to the thoughts already taking root in my head. One of a kind. Mine.
I realize too late I’ve been stroking my cock through my jeans when bliss jolts through me, and a hot, wet spurt coats the denim beneath my palm.
The song is ending, and her dance has tapered off to a shimmy while she pours the batter into a pan. She could turn around at any second and see me violating her privacy.
I had no reason for coming home other than needing a break, and she’d be embarrassed if I pretended to come in right now and make my presence known.
Shit, I need a change of boxer briefs and jeans but can’t sneak down the hall unnoticed.
I exit the apartment as quietly as I entered and trudge down the stairs in a haze. I delay re-opening the shop, instead hiding like a coward in the back storeroom. I sink down onto an overturned construction bucket and pull my hair so hard I might get bald spots.
Checking the time, I have just over an hour before I’d normally head upstairs for lunch, and she’s always out of the house during my lunch break. Looks like I’ll be stuck in my messed jeans like a pubescent boy until then.
I’m split down the middle. A red-blooded man, hung up on the stunning woman upstairs—and an employer who can never cross that line.
Shame heats my face as I tick off the reasons my attraction to Mia is inappropriate.
She’s so young.
I’m in a position of power—her employer and landlord.
She’s a role model for my daughter.
She’s healing from trauma and rebuilding her life.
She’s fucking married.
The reasons blur together until they’re indecipherable—drowned-out by the desire pounding through my veins.
Every heartbeat echoes one word.
Mine.