“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay.” She stands and bends down to kiss his forehead. “Good night. I’m really proud of you for doing your math homework. Was Hayes a lot of help?”
I feel bad that I’m standing outside the door eavesdropping, but I’m not moving now that they’re going to talk about me.
“Yeah, he helped a little bit. But he was trying to teach me a different way than what my teacher does.”
That new math shit can suck my balls.
“Yeah, well, that’s because the way they do math now sucks. Oh shit—don’t—oh god, don’t repeat either of those words.”
He giggles at her cursing. “Good night, Leighton.”
“Good night, sweetie.”
She tucks him in, and she doesn’t have to be instructed on all the steps like I did because these kids have been a part of her life for a long time.
I tiptoe down the stairs, trying to hide the fact that I was listening.
I’d love to be Lincoln’s coach. I enjoy helping kids, trying to make them better, to make them happy. Especially kids who have just lost their parents. But I don’t see how I can do it without disappointing him. I’d instantly fail because there’s no way to squeeze that into my schedule.
I walk down the stairs, my feet landing on that fucking third-from-the-bottom step that squeaks. “Damn it.”
Leighton’s laugh rings out from the top of the stairs.
Chapter
Twelve
Hayes
* * *
“That step has squeaked since the day they moved in. You’ll have to learn that.”
My thoughts get stuck on the fact that she said I’ll have to learn that—because that means she thinks I’ll be around here again.
“Didn’t they build the house?” I wait for her at the bottom of the staircase as she skips the third step.
“They built it, but it’s squeaked since the day they moved in.”
We face each other at the bottom of the stairs.
“Tired?” I ask, hoping she tells me no. I just want a few minutes alone with her.
“That’s like asking a marathoner if they’re tired after a race.” She pauses. “Of course I’m tired, but I’m always wired after they go to bed. It’s like I want a little me-time. I usually make myself a tea and sit in silence while I drink it—and then maybe watch some reality TV.”
“I like tea and can be very quiet.” I mime zipping my lips.
Sure, it’s fun with the kids around—enjoyable, we laugh a lot—but I’d be lying if I pretended that I don’t want some time that’s just her and me.
“Well, there’s only chamomile and peppermint tea in the house,” she says. “So, what would you like?”
I follow her into the kitchen, mentally scoring myself a point that she agreed so easily. “I’ll take the chamomile. I could definitely use something to make me sleepy.”
She heats the kettle, lifts onto her tiptoes to grab the box of tea, and her shirt rises, giving me a little more than a glimpse of her bare stomach.
My hands itch to touch her hips. I want to press her into the counter from behind and press my dick into her lower back… reach around and slide my hands under that tight tank top until the weight of her breasts are in my hands.
