12. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Hudson
Two days later, Paige ropes me into taking her to the annual Fourth of July Movie in the Park. We’ll head over early and grab some dinner, but we’ve got a couple of hours to kill, so I’ve helped Paige into the bath and settled in to look for houses for rent. Propping myself up against the headboard in my room, I open my laptop and fire it up. The realtor from Bozeman texted this morning—after an apology for contacting me on a holiday—to let me know that two new listings are set to come on the market on in a couple of days, and she didn’t want me to miss out on seeing them first.
I click on the link she gave me and wait for the pictures to load. The first house is an old Victorian a couple of streets over that has a large yard, which would be good for Paige. However, they’re asking a shit ton more than I’m willing to spend on something so old. The second listing isn’t much better. It’s a small, two-bedroom house over on Old Pine Road. It’s been updated, but the yard is trashed and tiny.
Hutch’s idea to build something custom is sounding more and more appealing every day. I need to decide quickly, though. With the elevation here and the short window for building due to the winter months, if we don’t get started soon, it’ll likely be months before we’d be able to break ground, and over a year for construction.
Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be an issue. But living with Finn for the next nearly two years until the house is finished? I can handle a few months, but two years? There is no fucking way.
Especially since she’s been talking to some guy from Bozeman named Brad. It makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
The garage door opening and closing downstairs pulls me from the mediocre listings.
“Daddy?” Paige calls from the bath off the hallway.
I slide my laptop onto the nightstand and head out into the hall. Paige is laid back in the tub, only her head visible above the mountain of bubbles covering her.
“Yeah, Pip?”
“Can we get a puppy?”
I close the toilet seat lid and sit down, rest my forearms on my knees, and let out a sigh. “Not right now, Paige. We don’t have a yard,” I say, a little irritation creeping into my voice. I’m not annoyed at her, just the situation.
“But we have the patio and the grass in the front,” she whines.
Footsteps sound on the stairs before Finn appears in the doorway. I turn my head and tip my chin up in greeting.
“Hey,” she says. “Can you help me for a second?”
“Finnley!” Paige slides up in the tub, water sloshing over the edge.
I nod and stand. “Careful, Pipsqueak.” I reach for a towel and Finn snags it off the towel rack, handing it to me.
“So, can we?”
“Dogs need lots of room to run,” I say, sopping up the water with the towel and my foot. “Maybe when we get a place of our own.”
“When is that gonna be? I really, really want a puppy. ”
I cast a glance at Finn. “Uh, soon, I hope. We’ll talk about it, ok?” She nods. “Get your hair washed, and I’ll be back in a minute.”
I follow Finn out into the hall. I can tell she’s disappointed at the thought of us moving out, but she doesn’t say anything.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I ask, “What’s up?”
“I got a sliver in my foot from the porch at Timber Haven and it’s in a place I can’t reach. Can you see if you can get it?”
“Sure.” I follow her into her room. It smells just like her in here. Grapefruit, the subtle scent of sandalwood.
The curtains flutter in the breeze coming in through the open window. She crosses into the bathroom, and I follow. Opening a drawer, she hands me a pair of tweezers. “Lemme just change. Be right back.”
She passes me to go back into the bedroom, and with her back to me, unbuttons her jeans. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband, she shoves them down her hips and works them off with her feet. My inability to look away rewards me with a mouthwatering view of her ass in tiny, lace lavender panties when she yanks her top off. She turns a little and I get a tiny peek of one perfect tit, too. If she turned even a fraction of an inch, I could make out a nipple.
I slam my eyes shut and spin around. Fuck. I will my dick to mind his business. It’s not like I’ve never seen her in her underwear before, but it’s different now that everything she seems to do makes it into my spank bank.
I drum my fingers on the vanity while I wait. There’s the sound of a drawer opening, and a few seconds later, she’s back in the bathroom in cutoffs and a tank top.
“That’s better,” she says, with a bright smile. “Where do you want me?” she asks, looking up at me.
On your knees. On your back in that bed. Sitting on my face. I’m not picky.
I clear my throat with a cough. “Uh, on the counter? ”
Even better, with that mirror.
She perches on the edge of the sink, and I sit on the closed toilet lid. With her foot balanced on my knee, her perfectly painted toenails are on display. I’ve touched her legs a million times, rubbed little circles over her knee while we watch movies, and played with her hair—which is one of her favorite things. But the sight of her thighs splayed before me in the least sexual way possible is doing something to my gut. And other parts, too.
I swallow thickly and try not to let my eyes trail up her legs. I fail. Hard. She’s freshly shaved, probably from me teasing her about it. And fuck me, I can’t help but wonder just how serious she was about how she shaves her pussy.
“It’s just on the side there. By my heel, kind of… Can you see it?” She cranes her neck and twists a little to see. “It hurts so much; it feels huge.”
The urge to make a sex joke is so fucking strong, but by some miracle, I’m able to refrain.
I pull my eyes away from her thighs and look at the outside of her foot, turning it in my hand. “Yep,” I say and go after it, but the angle is wrong. “Here, can you…” I lift her foot and she shifts backward on the counter, sliding halfway into the sink.
She scrambles to grab a hold of something and gets a fistful of my shirt at the same time I shoot to my feet and reach to steady her around her waist. The proximity has my heart kicking up a notch and the scent of her shampoo fills my nose. Her shirt has ridden up, and I can’t help but brush my thumb against the exposed skin of her waist. It might be my imagination, but I swear her breath hitches ever so slightly.
She rights herself. “Sorry, did I scratch you?”
“Nah, you’re good.” I force my breathing to even out and glance down at her. A pained expression paints her face. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I hit my back on the faucet, but it’s ok. I’m ok.” She winces again. She’s usually pretty tough, so it must really hurt.
“Here,” I say. “Don’t fall again.” I chuckle. “Let me look.”
She huffs out a breath and lifts her shirt in the back a little. She’s got a red mark there, just above the band of her shorts. I run my fingers over the spot. Her skin is so soft and warm. Her shoulder brushes my chest and it’s like an electric shot straight to my groin. She turns her head to look at me and my eyes drop to her slightly parted lips. Hers drop to mine, too, and she leans forward a fraction of an inch.
“Am I gonna live?” she whispers.
When my gaze flutters up to hers, I see her eyes are slightly glassy. Heat crackles between us.
“Looks like it,” I say, my voice a hoarse murmur. I run my fingers over the area again before straightening and sitting back on the toilet lid.
She clears her throat and looks away, but I can see her pulse point pounding in her neck and its suddenly ten degrees hotter in here. I wonder if she feels it, too.
“Where’s the…” I look around for the tweezers and she turns to look, as well.
They’re behind her, and she twists on the counter to grab them. My hands instinctively find their way to her thighs to keep her from toppling over again. I’m gripping her tighter than I need to, but I can’t help it. Having my hands on her feels too damn good. She shifts just right so that her open thighs give a perfect view of her panties as her shorts gap away from her thigh.
My mouth goes dry. My cock perks up.
Goddamn.
“Here you go.” It’s a little breathless, as she shifts to straighten up.
My eyes snap to her hand, and I fumble the tweezers when I try to take them from her outstretched palm. They drop between the toilet and the vanity. When I bend to grab them, my forehead collides with the corner of the countertop.
I jerk back, slapping a palm over my face. “Ow. Fuck.”
She gasps and then chuckles lightly. “My God, we’re a pair, aren’t we? Here, let me see.” I lift my chin, and she runs her fingers over the spot between my eyebrows, just left of dead center. Her fingers linger there for a second before she drops her hand.
“All good.” She bites her lip, eyes dropping back to my mouth for a split second. Then, she leans in to plant a quick kiss between my eyebrows.
The sensation sends my mind reeling, and my head swims with mixed emotions. I could kiss her so easily right now. Yank her off that vanity and across my lap to straddle me. And the way she’s looking at me makes me wonder if she would let me. It’s so damn tempting.
“Thanks,” I say instead, turning my attention back to her foot.
I do my best to not hurt her, but she winces a couple of times. I check in with her, and then finally manage to get the large sliver out of her foot.
“Is it big?”
I choke on my laugh. “Are we still talking about the sliver?”
Her lips twist into a knowing smirk and her eyes glint with amusement, cheeks flushing the faintest bit of pink. But she doesn’t say anything. So, I chuckle and hold the tweezers up for her to see the sliver still stuck to it. “It’s good sized.”
She pulls my hand close to her, eyeing the sliver. “Little fucker,” she says, and then giggles. “Thanks, Huddy.” She ruffles my hair and hops off the counter. “I’ll be ready in a few, and then we can head out.”
Before she notices my cock trying to force its way out through my zipper, I nod, make a beeline for the hall, and shut her bedroom door firmly behind me. My mind scrambles for anything to latch onto that doesn’t involve Finnley in the shower—all wet skin and long hair. Per usual, it fucking fails.