I don’t know what’s gotten into me today, but I’m spooked in a way I’m rarely spooked anymore. I haven’t had a bodyguard in years, and I have almost forgotten what it was like when I had Tony trailing me everywhere. My mind wanders to my former bodyguard, as it does from time to time, and I wonder where he is. I never heard from him again, and I hope he’s happy, wherever he is and whatever he’s doing.
When I first brought Rowan home, Father foisted another bodyguard on me, claiming it wasn’t safe for either of us without one. I didn’t fight him on it because I was too preoccupied with my son. After a year, he removed the man out of the blue, stating we didn’t need protection anymore. Honestly, half the time, I wonder if Joseph Lawson is getting early-onset dementia or his OCD is just that whacked. Anyway, I can’t say I’ve missed having a bodyguard until small moments like this, when I wouldn’t mind having someone around for my peace of mind.
I coax Rowan out of the woods, only relaxing when we are back on our bikes and heading home. We stop at the small neighborhood bakery on the way, and I buy a fresh loaf of crusty bread to go with the pasta I am making for dinner.
After my little Firecracker has consumed his body weight in pasta, I bathe him and dress him in clean pajamas. Then I snuggle into bed with him, reading another few pages ofJames and the Giant Peach. When his eyelids grow heavy and he is struggling to keep his eyes open, I set the book down and press a kiss to his brow. “Good night, sweetheart. I love you. Sleep tight.”
“Night, Mommy,” he whispers in a sleepy tone. “Love you, too.”
I finish cleaning the kitchen, and then I take a nice long hot shower. Emerging from the bathroom, I notice I missed a call from my boyfriend, so I call him back while I pull on sleep shorts and a tank. Nightfall has descended, and I pop my cell on speaker while I walk around the house, pulling down the blinds. Dion answers just as I’m about to hang up. “Give me a sec,” he shouts, loud music blaring in the background.
Wandering into the kitchen, I flick the overhead light on as I pad to the refrigerator, removing a chilled bottle of wine. I set my cell down on the marble countertop while I pour myself a much-needed drink. Noise mutes on the phone, and my ears give a silent thumbs-up.
“Hey, babe,” Dion says. “Sorry about that. We’re at this sports bar a block from our hotel and it’s freaking crazy. The Yankees are trouncing the Cubs and the whole place is going nuts.”
“It’s cool.” I secure the cap on the wine bottle, popping it back in the refrigerator. “I wouldn’t have disturbed you except I saw your missed call.”
“I called to let you know I landed safely in New York and that I miss you already.”
I laugh softly. “You only saw me last night.”
“And your point is?”
“It’s too soon to miss me.”
“I miss you the second I drop you home after our dates.”
I smile into the empty room. This man is so unbelievably sweet. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you.”
“You’re such a charmer. I have no idea how you reached thirty without some woman tying you down.” The words are out of my mouth before I can reclaim them.
“I just hadn’t met the right woman,” he replies, and my smile fades.
I like Dion.
A lot.
He’s a gentleman, and he treats me with respect. He’s hot, and funny, and smart, and Rowan already worships the ground he walks on. Although, my son isn’t aware that I’m dating his teacher because I won’t introduce any man to him until I know it’s serious.
I made a mistake when Rowan was three and introduced him to the guy I was dating then. When things ended, Rowan was devastated because he had grown close to Julian.
So now, I have strict self-imposed rules.
Rules Dion knows about and has always supported, but lately, he’s asking me when we can make it official with my son, forcing me to confront the reality of our relationship. I tried arguing it’s risky to let Rowan know about us, as Dion could get in trouble with the school for dating a parent, but he said it’s a risk he’s willing to take.
Truth is, Dion is perfect on paper, and I’m enjoying spending time with him, but he doesn’t set my heart racing or ignite a flame with his touch. Not like…
“Sierra. Are you still there?”
Dion pulls me out of my head. “I’m here. I should let you get back to the guys.”
“I freaked you out again, huh?”
“No, it’s just—”
“It’s okay, babe. You don’t need to explain, and I’m sorry if I’m rushing you. I don’t mean to.”
