“Yes, shit,” I said, turning back to the car. I dug for my keys in my purse, but when I extracted them enough to hit the unlock button, they fell to the ground.
With all the pain shooting through my body, I couldn’t fathom how I was going to pick them up. But as I was deciding whether outright bending over or crouching would suit me better, Jack stood next to me with my keys in his hand. “Scoot.”
“What?”
He was just looking at the door handle in his hand, figuring out which button would unlock the car. “Scoot. I’ll get Hazel in her seat.”
“I can do?—”
Jack’s hand flexed on the handle, his moving knuckles making the ink on them dance. Was that a maple leaf . . . and a bird? “Mara. I don’t care. Move.”
I jumped, realizing I was just staring like his hand was the fountain of youth. Jack opened the car’s back door, still not changing his stern facial expression until he picked up Hazel. She giggled and reached for him, my trusting girl.
“Hey, you. ‘Member me?” he said to her, still much in a monotone but with the tiniest hint of excited baby voice. He smirked as he clipped her in rear-facing, dancing a finger across both sides of the seat and making her laugh harder. “She’s a cutie.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Sorry we couldn’t make it to Harper’s birthday party last weekend.”
Jack sighed. “Neither did I. I was out of town. Syd threw that one, and well, you’ve met her . . .”
“I have,” I said. “She did not receive the cookies I brought warmly.”
“That’s Syd for ya,” Jack said. “When I asked who brought them, she said, ‘Short woman,’ and when I asked for clarification, she said, ‘Ginger.’”
I flourished a hand to my body. “Well, she’s at least accurate.” I shifted, my back screaming and needing to get home to relieve Gabi. “I should get going, but um?—”
“I’ll see you Sunday, right?”
“Oh, yeah, forgot that’s coming up. I probably have to bring Hazel, if that’s okay.”
“For sure. She’s always welcome.” I must have been leaning to stretch my back because Jack cocked his head like a dog trying to understand something. “Need me to crack it?”
“Crack what?” I asked.
“Your back. Does it help? I do this thing where I pick you up and it cracks.”
“I probably need to see a chiropractor but I’m not sure when . . .” I shook my head to clear it. “Look, Jack?—”
“I’d just,” he swept in behind me and stooped to put his arms under mine. “Here, cross your arms.”
“Jack, can you just stop trying to fix everything? I need to go and relieve Gabi, who is watching my sonfor free, this day has been a,” I lowered my voice, “fuckingnightmare, and all I want to do is go home and take this fucking bra off!”
“I can . . . let you go,” Jack tried, then made about ten motions with his hands. He settled on putting one on my door handle and opening it for me, holding out his hand to help me in. His dark eyes were contrite, looking genuinely sorry for inconveniencing me.
He was so close and he was kind of a dick but he was also nice in his own special Jack way and dammit, if he was going to touchme, it had better be good. I clawed my hands down my face and huffed out a breath. “Can I?” I asked, putting my hands out.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” In the most clumsy way possible, made of elbows and knees, Jack Leroy hugged me. My cane fell down as I leaned into him, and he sealed his arms tighter around me. And with a deep, shuddering breath, I hugged him back.
“Oh, fuck, are you going to cry?” He sounded truly panicked.
“I just had a bad day,” I whimpered, trying not to sound pathetic.
On a sad chuckle, he said, “I feel like I’m making it worse.”
“You’re not. You’re being nice.”
It was just a hug.
Just two lonely single parents hugging it out in a grocery store parking lot. Well, I was lonely at least. And since he’d been showing up in our lives, horny. It had been a long time since I’d had any action, and despite his “I’m not into hockey moms” statement, Jack was good to look at. And he smelled good—a little sweaty and with some manly deodorant smell but believe me when I say that it was heavenly.
