“Yes,” he says without reservation, “but I never got the chance.”
We talk like that for an hour, and I tell him about Manny and the girl who cornered me in the bathroom, and how she told me all those mean things.
“What a bitch!” he says, snarling.
I agree wholeheartedly. “She must be so unhappy to have to say shit like that.”
“You know, I thought he might have had a thing for you since that day at the town fields, when you went to interview with him.” I look at him in surprise.
“What?” I mutter in disbelief. “No way.” He only laughs.
“Yep. He looked like he wanted to strangle me or rip me away from you at the very least. Believe me when I say that that man is restraining himself and holding back his feelings for you.” I sigh.
“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” I ask rhetorically.
“Does it, though?” he volleys. “Maybe you should just jump his bones?”
I smack him. “Parker, what the fuck is that kind of advice?” He laughs and I do the same, falling into him. We recover, and he nudges me.
“I say you go for it, though, if that makes you happy. Give it a chance. You’ll never know unless you shoot your shot, right?” We stand there looking at each other, and his lip twitches. Hepulls me into a hug.
“I’m going to miss you, Nadia. You know that? Please keep in touch with me, and I’d like for you to maybe get to know Beth.” I hug him tighter.
“I’d really like that, Parker.”
He releases me and stands. “Hey, I have to go. My family is all packed and just waiting for me to get back so we can leave. I’ve felt my phone vibrating in my pocket, and they are probably wondering where I am.” He hikes his thumb behind him. “Well,” he says, but he doesn’t finish that thought. I stand from the hammock a little bit steadier on my feet. He opens the car door and closes it, starting the engine. The window goes down, and he pops his arm outside, hanging it out. “Bye, Nadia. See you soon.” He waves and reverses out of the spot.
I stare after him long before the car disappears down the street, but I no longer see him. I’m envisioning Manny and what I’m going to do. Tomorrow I will see him, and maybe I will take Parker’s advice. I mean, the worst that could happen is that he rejects me and I go back to being the nanny, or maybe even be dismissed, but after that moment at the park, underneath the blankets, I felt how much he wanted me in just one touch, one grasp of his hand with mine. I cringe inwardly at the thought of him denying me, but it’s time to take chances. Starting tomorrow, I am going to live for myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
She walks in, right on time, just like she always does. But now, after that night at the fireworks show, I feel it differently. It’s like I have been rewired to notice everything about her. Even her promptness is a massive turn-on. It’s in all the little things, you know? That shit means everything to me because I never had it before with my ex-wife. Something so domestic, so normal, like reliability or attention. Her scent slams into me when she steps through the door and passes me by. It’s almost like a drug that’s a mixture so pungent and intoxicating. I know it’s only the floral scents of lavender and rose, but to me, it will always be associated with her.
She tosses her bag on the counter with this common act of familiarity, like she’s right at home, as she thenheads straight into the kitchen. I follow her slow, carefree movements, as she grabs a to-go mug from the cabinet and fills it with coffee, like she’s already part of my damn morning routine. That’s when I notice it’s my to-go cup, with just black coffee in it. It’s the way I usually take it. She opens the fridge next, humming a Taylor Swift song as she places her lunch bag inside. I just watch her, waiting for her to be done so that I can grab mine from the same spot, thank her for my coffee, and get out of here before I do something stupid like shove her up against the wall and kiss her like I’ve wanted to so many times. But she’s already one step ahead of me, as she picks my lunch bag up, then turns and offers it to me with that damn smile playing at the edges of her mouth, like she was teasing me this whole time.
It’s stupid, but her smile is what gets me the most. It’s the same one she gives my daughter when she scores that base run or shows her a picture she colored. We never got that reaction from my ex-wife either, and it’s not even close. All the years with her, and not once did she pack my lunch, or even care enough to see me off in the morning before work. No kiss goodbye, no “Have a good day, Manny.” Hell, most days, I was lucky if she didn’t just disappear back into the bedroom before I even walked out the door, or worse, not even be awake at this hour, not just for me, but for our daughter.
I step closer, my hand reaching for my bag. Her skin brushes mine for a second, and I feel it—that little jolt of electricity between us. She tries to hide her shiver as she pulls back, rubbing her arms, but I feel that, too. So I use this brief moment when her eyes close to advance closer toward her.
She can’t be immune to this feeling between us, but maybe she’s hoping for it just like I am. Her body’s reaction to me tells me she feels something, too. I decide to take a chance. Instead of grabbing my lunch bag from her extended hand, I let it drop when she lets go, thinking I have a hold on it.
“I’m so sorry,” she begins. She leans over in an attempt to pick it up, but I stop her.
“Leave it,” I say. My voice sounds raspy even to my ears. I skim my hand down her arm. “Are you cold, Nadia?” I lower my gaze to look down at her chest, noticing that her nipples are hardened into little peaks poking through her tight, fitted sports tank top.
“No,” she gasps. Her skin pebbles as my hand moves languidly down her arm and latches onto her small waist. I move her away from the refrigerator, knowing it isn’t the cold that has her responding this way. Shuffling her over to close the refrigerator door, I effectively push us closer together.
“What’s going on, Manny?” she asks, voice low, breath catching just a little. She looks up at me through those long lashes, and it fucks with me every single time, just like the first time I saw her. I should say something, but the words are all stuck in my throat, and I can’t seem to focus. Her whiskey-colored eyes are burning with desire, and damn it, I feel an indescribable sense of possessiveness knowing it’s me who lit that fire.
“I don’t know,” I mutter. The truth is, it doesn’t even matter anymore. What matters is how I’ve been fighting this pull for what feels way too long. But right now I’m done fighting it, and I need her to know what she does to me.
I close the distance between us, pulling her into me without hesitation. Her body feels warm and soft, like everything I’ve been craving without even realizing it. “Tell me to stop,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I expect, “and I will.”
“You better not,” she says, effectively cutting me off from whatever thoughts I had as she grabs hold of my shirt and smashes her lips against mine in a rough and hard kiss that has my knees almost buckling at the sensation. I feel like a teenager making out with my high school crush. She opens her mouth, and I seek entrance, officially taking over the kiss as our tongues dance around each other. She moans into my mouth, and I feel my cock twitch in delight at the thought of burying myself inside her.
As the heat between us rises, she pushes me up against the counter, fighting for dominance as she throws her arms around my neck, pulling me in and pushing those perky tits up against me. I lean forward, wanting more, but she stops it. Her hand tugs my hair back, snapping my head up and causing me to look into those eyes, pulling me under in a hypnotic trance. As I lock eyes with her, I can tell she's searching for something, feeling it at my very core until she speaks.
“Tell me something true, Manny,” she breathes, her voiceragged like she just sprinted a mile in under seven minutes. The amber color of her eyes swirls with a reddish hue flecked with specks of gold that hold me captive, compelling me to do as she asks. She waits, silent and still. Seconds stretch on into what feels like minutes, until I can’t tell if I’m breathing anymore.
