“Tell him, mommy.”
I balked, realizing Nicky was talking to me before catching Trent’s look that hinged between surprise and I could’ve been wrong but I was sure it was anger.
“Ash,” Trent gestured for me to follow him outside. “Nicky, Neha, stay put,” an unusual tightness tinged his words, a far cry from the sexually excited man from a few minutes ago. “Want to explain?” he said when we rounded the corner of the building.
“Did I do something wrong?” I was seriously out of my element here. I knew nothing about parenting kids.
He opened his mouth to say something then he closed it, his expression softening. “Why is Nicky calling you mommy?”
“I have no idea. He came into the sunroom while I waited for you. Asked if I could read him a letter he’d written to look like it came from his mother—”
“He asked you to read the letter?”
“Yes. Why?” What was the big deal over a child writing a letter to himself? Granted, some of the things were a little too adult for a seven-year-old, I saw nothing wrong with it.
Trent sighed. “That letter was written by my wife.”
“You said your child died at childbirth?”
“She knew she wasn’t going to make—” his voice cracked on the words and he turned away. For the first time since meeting him, I watched the cocky man I’d come to know, appear almost vulnerable. I stayed silent unsure how to handle something this emotional, this intense. When I finally couldn’t take the silence, I touched his shoulder and he began speaking again. “She wrote each of the kids seven letters. One for each birthday. Every year, I’d read the letters to them until the last one. Both kids decided they were big enough to read it themselves.” He turned to face me. “I’m sorry I came across a little harsh just now.”
“You didn’t.” I palmed his cheek. “You’re a great father and you were just concerned. I know I’d be if they were mine. Nicky’s right, she did say he could ride with you. And he wants you to find a soulmate. You presenting me to them had opened up that door for their introspection since you haven’t given them any other options. They’re just following what their mom asked them to do. And I’m so sorry Nicky called me mommy without—”
He placed a finger to my lip, slowly shaking his head. “I want them to call you mommy if you’re okay with it.”
I smiled, nodding. He lowered his head and drew me in for a slow kiss.
“Yuck.”
“Gross.”
Two distinct voices shouted, drawing us apart.
I laughed at Trent’s ‘I give up’ look. “What did I say about staying put?” he scolded.
“But, daddy—”
“No buts. When I say stay put, I mean it, champ,” he chided Nicky then to me in a whisper, “We need to set some ground rules or my cock’s not likely to get any action.”
I laughed. “What was that, about locked doors and master manipulator, again?”
He cocked a brow, scowling then slid an arm around my waist, guiding me back to the shed. “If I don’t have you under me by nine tonight, my name isn’t Trent Shaw,” he whispered in my ear.
“Would that be deep throat or deep pussy?” He stopped moving, shock dropping his jaw. I carried on walking, giving him a sweet smile over my shoulder.
When he caught up with me he gripped my waist again. “Now I’m more inclined to get you home than have you straddle my bike.”
I stopped and cupped his face. “How about I straddle that bike now and do the same to you later.”
“Bold and beautiful, aren’t you?” He chuckled.
“I am but a friend said riding a man’s bike gives your pussy the best damn vibrations ever. And I want to test it.” I walked away leaving him gaping.
“Fuck. I’ve unleashed the fucking devil.” He groaned.
