CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Amelia
The real world slaps me in the face bright and early when my alarm goes off.
“I thought you didn’t have to work today?” Deacon asks in a sleepy voice as I bat at my phone until the horrible noise stops.
“I have family stuff,” I say. “I’ve got to get a shower and get out of here.”
He wraps an arm around me and pulls me against him. Somehow, even though we just had sex a few hours ago, for the fourth time in the same night, he’s hard again. “How about I join you in that shower?”
My parents are supposed to be dropping Harper off here in about thirty minutes. No way am I taking a chance on her finding a man with me. “Honestly?” I ask because this is only going to work if I can be brutally honest with him. “I need you to leave. I have family coming over in a bit and—”
He lets me go and rolls out of bed like he’s full of energy even after a night of little sleep. “No need to say more. I’m only here for the sex.”
He says it with a smile and no hint of displeasure in his tone, but his words still cause an odd pang in the center of my chest. No reason for that when I’m getting everything I want and far more than I probably deserve. “Thank you for understanding. I’m not sure when I can see you again, but—”
“No pressure,” he says. “Just send me a text when you need me, and I’ll be here.”
“Okay.” I watch as he pulls on his pants. An unsettling urge to ask him not to see anyone else before he sees me again ripplesthrough me, but I swallow it down. That would be a ridiculous, unfair thing to ask him in a long line of ridiculous, unfair things I’m asking of him. “There will be a million times I want to text you, but circumstances beyond my control and all that.”
He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips that leaves me wanting so much more. “I get it, honey. I’m here for fun between the sheets, and that’s it. Thank you.”
I smile, relief flooding me. “Every man’s dream, right? A woman he only ever has to see for sex.”
His smile fades. “Don’t paint me with that brush. I like you as a person, too.” His grin returns full force. “But I’m never going to complain about being the first person you call when you want to feel good.”
He kisses me once more, quickly, pulls on his shirt and leaves. I hear him moving through the house, probably getting his shoes and keys.
“Marmalade’s using his cat gym,” he shouts, before the front door opens and closes behind him.
I grab his pillow and, for just a few seconds, I breathe in the woodsy, masculine scent of him. I force myself to get out of bed, but I can’t do anything about the smile stretching my cheeks so much they ache with it.
I must be the luckiest woman in the world.
I hurry through my shower and let my hair air dry. I dress in comfortable shorts and a t-shirt because today is my day off and I’m spending it with Harper. Probably at the park in the morning and at the birthday party of one of her preschool friends this afternoon.
Marmalade is indeed in his cat gym. He’s on the highest landing, stretched out in the early morning sun and watching a bird in the tree right outside the window.
Even better, nothing was destroyed in my house during the night.
This cat gym might be the best idea I’ve ever had.
I’m cracking eggs for Harper’s favorite weekend breakfast, waffles, when Harper rushes into the room and wraps herself around my legs. “Momma,” she says. “I’m home.” She says home with a b at the end, homb.
There is nothing better than Harper hugging me. I bend and lift her in my arms, which isn’t as easy as it used to be. My baby is growing up.
She hugs my neck with her little arms.
“I missed you,” I say.
“I didn’t miss you,” she says. “Granny and Pop-pop got me ice cream, and they let me stay up until the moon came out. It wassodark.”
I smile at my parents over the golden fluff of her curls. “Sounds like you all had fun.”
“We did,” Dad says. His sun-worn face twists in pain as he eases himself to sit at the table. He doesn’t like to complain, but his back’s been bothering him more and more lately.
Diabetes is also slowing him down, though I suspect he’s been keeping from me just how serious it is. He doesn’t tell me half of what’s going on with his and Mom’s health, but I can tell they’re both struggling.
