Leaning his elbows on the table, he clasps his hands together over his half-eaten meatloaf. “If you need help with that—even when Bernie’s home—I’m just across the street.”
Damn if I haven’t already thought about that many, many times.
“One week is what I allow myself,” I say. “She deserves a devoted mother, and I give that to her.”
“But sometimes mamas need a little help. And not just when it comes to money or chores or raising a kid. Sometimes, mamas need to get under a man who knows what the fuck he’s doing to make her forget everything. Like her own name.”
Jesus. This is forward. And so fucking hot. I fan my face, no longer caring how I come across to him. We’ve already laid it all out on the table.
“When I get close to the week where I essentially slut it up, my libido knows. It cranks up, and I have these thoughts I normally wouldn’t have.”
“These thoughts include me?”
“With many men,” I say, cringing. “Not like that. But once I get my fix, I’m back to normal. We’re friends, and I don’t want to ruin that with a night of fun.”
“But what fun would it be?” he says with a wink. “And it also tells me you’re not getting it good enough during that week.”
I blink at him as he digs back into the meatloaf that has to be cold by now. “What?”
“If it was really good, a week wouldn’t be enough. You’d need it long afterward,” he says, shoving a forkful into his mouth. “Mediocre at best. Men these days just really can’t get the job done.”
And now I need a cold shower. Or maybe I should just grab ice from the freezer to shove down my panties. That should work for a while.
“There’s also another thing to keep in mind with us… considering exploring something beyond our friendship. Bernie. She’s invested in you, and I don’t want to create issues for her. She picks up on everything.”
This simmers him down, and he leans back in his chair. “That’s a good point. As much as I’d love to help this hot mama in front of me out, I’d be crushed if I lost my friend in the process.”
Zep sees Bernie as his friend? That’s sweet. And really sexy.
Damn it!
I’m saved from finding words to say while my brain short circuits when my phone rings. “Excuse me,” I say and walk over to my purse, aware of how wet my panties are. “Hey, Barbara.”
“Misty, hi,” Ben’s mother says. “I’m so sorry, but we can’t pick up Bernadette tomorrow afternoon. It’ll have to be the following morning.”
“What?”
I know she doesn’t know what I spend this week doing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she suspects. She’s a woman, after all.
“I’m sorry, but Walt’s mother was admitted to the hospital with chest pains two nights ago, and she won’t be released until tomorrow morning. We have to help get her settled at home, so we wouldn’t be in Gravelton until very late. And I don’t like Walt driving that late.”
My heart sinks. My date is at seven tomorrow night, and I have plans. Big plans.
“I know Bernie will be disappointed, but I think we can make that work.”
“If you want, we can keep her an extra night. I know you do all the things single folks do when they’re childless while she’s staying with us.”
Well, if that isn’t the eloquent way to call me a whore. “Let’s leave that up to Bernie. If she wants to stay an extra day, I’ll make sure she has clothes, but if she wants to come home, I won’t make her stay.”
“See you soon.”
Groaning, I want to cry and stomp my foot. I have to reschedule my date. But I think I might explode. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
“Something wrong?” Zep asks.
I jump, forgetting for a moment he’s sitting at my kitchen table. How I forgot this sex god of a man was there, I have no idea, but I did.
“That was Ben’s mom. She can’t get her tomorrow after school like planned. They won’t be here until the morning, and I have plans tomorrow night I have to cancel.”
