“Wow,” Chloe says with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. “That’s… wow.”
He drops his arm and digs through the bag still on the counter, coming out with a smaller turkey sandwich. “I only have it on that side. The other pit is still naked.”
Chloe turns, leaning against the counter. She stares intently in the direction that Jake disappeared. Time passes. Too much time, and nerves crawl up my spine. I’ve faced down shit on missions that didn’t rattle me, seen things that have haunted me for many nights after. But overstepping with this family—upsetting Chloe—scares the shit out of me.
Finally, her head bounces in a series of small nods.
I set my sandwich aside. “Are you okay?”
I want to wrap her up in my arms and tell her it’s all good, that this is part of watching her son grow up. But she’s the one with over a decade of parenting experience. I barely even made it to the starting line of that race.
“I am, but… wow. Mowing the lawn. Pit hair. Man smell? I feel like life happened, and I missed it while grocery shopping.”
She leans into me like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I wrap her up, holding her close.
“Do you want me to talk to him? About girls and shit?” I offer, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
“That’s asking a lot of you. It probably goes above and beyond.”
“But,” I prompt, loving the way she doesn’t want to do it herself but can’t seem to come out and ask me to do it.
Chloe shifts, leaning back so she can look me in the eyes. “I would be forever grateful, not to have to talk to my sonabout erections and vaginas and—God help me—masturbation. But that’s a big deal. I can see if Jack or one of my brothers…” Concern pinches at the corners of her eyes.
“It’s up to you, but I’m here. Jake and I spend time together. I feel like we have a pretty good relationship going.”
“Yeah, you do. He likes you, Miles, looks up to you,” she says softly, the weight of her words held up for me.
I nod and kiss her, grateful to be included in her family. This is a heavy dose of trust and one that I will happily bear. But when I deepen the kiss and she starts to giggle, I have to pull back. “What?”
“Man smell? Really?”
FIFTEEN
Chloe
“You want me to watch what?” Miles asks. He looks shocked, almost offended by my suggestion.
“Pride & Prejudice.” I hand him a bowl of popcorn and pull a blanket from the big basket I have next to the couch.
Miles tosses a handful of popcorn in his mouth and stares at me like this is some kind of a joke and he’s just waiting for the punch line.
There’s no punch line. I am dead serious.
“So, what aboutJohn Wick? orWe Are Marshall?Gladiator?Man of Steel? You can’t go wrong with Superman.”
He smirks as he leans forward to pick up the remote, but I snatch it from the table and flop onto the couch next to him.
“Nope. You said I could pick this one after you and Jake made me sit through freaking Star Wars. And I did. Two hours of my life I’ll never get back.” I toss the pale blue wool blanket over my legs, bunching it up in my lap. I take the popcorn bowl from Miles’s hands and wedge it into place between us. “This movie is so beautiful, I promise. And the time investment will beabsolutely worth it.” I truly love this movie and particularly this version of it.
Miles groans and sighs through the beginning of the movie, obviously not connecting with the characters and the subtleties of their interactions. “Jesus Christ, what is wrong with these people? Bingley’s a twit and needs his ass kicked. Lizzy’s mother is a manipulative bitch, and what crawled up Darcy’s ass?”
When the popcorn is finished, Miles moves the bowl over to the end table and drains his beer. He sets the bottle into the empty popcorn bowl, and I swear on all that is good at holy, if he hadn’t been complaining so loudly through the start of the movie, slamming the characters at every turn, I would’ve thought his timing was planned down to the wire. But he has complained. He’s railed and scoffed the entire time. So, when Miles slouches back into the couch, throws his head back against the cushion, and spreads the fingers of his hand wide, just as Darcy does on-screen, my insides melt. My muscles clench, and desire pools low in my belly.
That scene. That seemingly insignificant action that, in reality, hints at a huge turning point in the story. That right there is what pushes me over the edge. I shove the blanket off my feet and turn to face Miles.
“What?” he asks. And then his strong, beautiful hand flexes again. His eyes dart to the TV and then back to me. He searches my face and asks, “Did I miss something?”
I push up onto my knees and kiss him. He kisses me back, and then he moves his arm around me so that hand is flexing against my hip. Whatever nerves I was harboring, whatever doubts I had about whether this was the right thing to do—the right time—ignite in my burning desire for him. I slide my leg across his lap until I’m straddling him. My legs are spread wide across his massive thighs.
