Why’s he so desperate to get a look at my place?
“No, it’s fine. Help me put them back. I can get them later.”
Carter gives me a weird look but assists either way.
And that was a bad idea.
“Diapers? Didn’t you say you don’t have kids?”
My heart stops beating for a moment. In a situation like this, I do what all single mothers do when they bump into their baby daddies in the grocery store: I lie.
“They’re not for me…or for my kid…because I don’t have one of those.” I clear my throat and hope that it’s gonna magically erase the nervousness from my voice. “My friend has a newborn.”
Panic over. Carter nods and grabs the diapers.
As soon as he exits the aisle, I hide my red face in my palm.
“Your friend’s kid, huh?” Michael reenters the scene. “You knowtheCarter Trescott? You know he was voted hottest CEO in the state of Nevada last yearandtwo years ago?”
“Trust me, I know.”
“Since when did the two of you have a—” Michal cuts himself off. “O-M-G.He’sOtis’s father.”
“Shhh!” I press a finger to Michael’s lips and give him a cautionary stare. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“That’s big, Carmen.”
“Yeah. But is it bigger than owning your own suede Isabel Marant jacket from this season?”
Michael’s eyes are almost popping out of his skull.
I don’t like to bribe, but I also don’t want the whole grocery store knowing about my business with Carter Trescott if I can help it.
“My lips are sealed.”
“Good.”
Carter reappears and grabs a few more items from the shopping cart. Somehow, we end up finding ourselves in the same aisles. Alone.
I can pretend that I don’t feel a weird, unspoken connection between us, but pretending isn’t going to make it go away. The man’s not even touching me and I’m burning up. I’m still sore between the legs from yesterday, but the area is wet.
I’m afraid it’ll soon become obvious to everyone else, including Carter.
It’s like I’m insatiable around him. We had sex not even twenty-four hours ago, and I still don’t have my fill of him.
It’s the earthy smell of gasoline and smoke. The way his hands lightly brush over mine as we grab items from the cart to return them to the shelves. Every time he reaches over his head, his bicep flexes. Even when it’s relaxed, it looks tense.
And then there are the tattoos all over his skin. I don’t know what the markings mean. All I know is that he was not that kinda guy three years ago when we last met. He was clean, reformed and polished. His top buttons were all done up. His hair was slicked back and his stubble was trimmed.
Back then, it was still blond. Now, it’s almost completely gray.
He’s aged in the best way possible.
We finish up with the cart and exit the grocery store. His Harley is parked outside, the only vehicle in the lot that is dazzling in the sun.
I know I shouldn’t hop on and go back with him. I still don’t know this man, and I also don’t know his friends.
Otis and I have a life to start living. I should just take the money and leave.
