More than like.
He makes me feel like more than justmeeach time. Like I’m the only girl in the world he sees. And after a lifetime of not having a steady man in my life, a father or a boyfriend, it’s nice to have that kind of attention.
Look, I know I have issues. Tons of them. Abandonment issues, from both my dad and even my mom to a point. I never use sex as anything more than being intimate with someone, but I’ve never felt the need to hide away myspecial flowerfor Mr. Perfect when I wasn’t sure he was ever more than something people made up to write about.
And Karter isn’t perfect. He has issues of his own. He can be stubborn. He can even be mean. But with me? He’s none of that. I’ve only seen the sweet side, the desirable side. The one that makes me weak in the knees when he looks at me or calls me “Babygirl.” He might be a big bad biker, but with me, he’s the sweetest teddy bear, and I feel safe with him in everything we do. There’s not a single ounce of worry when I’m with him.
Which is beyond freeing. My mom tried her best, but I still helped with things that most kids don’t even think about till they move out. I was making the grocery list by eight and doing the family budget by ten. I had a good childhood, but I was also helping take care of Mom and myself. I was never just being taken care of. It was like that all my life, but I have no grudges toward anyone for it. I don’t regret a second of my life or wish for any changes at all. Everything led me to where I am, even Mom dying. I found my true joy through her death. A parting gift she gave me.
But with Karter? I don’t think anyone can understand how it feels to just let go unless they’ve dealt with it themselves. To just be and not have to decide, but still have the optiontodecide if I want to.
My feminist teacher in college would have a cow if she could hear me now. I probably sound like a nightmare to her, liking the idea of a man making choices for me so I can just be here and not think.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, then count to five—because three never works—and roughly shake my head four times to get the negative thoughts away. It was something Mom taught me when I was young. When I started to overthink things, and it was nothing positive, she’d say I just needed to take a moment, accept that the thoughts were there, then shake them out and move on. Live in the moment.
That was huge for her, to live in the here and now. And that’s one thing I plan to continue to do for Mom. I’ll live life to the fullest every minute without second-guessing all the time. Just sometimes.
But now I need to liveandmake sure Karter is still alive, too, and not sticking a pen in his eye to get out of whatever questions Nana might be asking him.
I grab my purse, throwing it across my body because it’ll be easier to ride his bike with a crossbody than a small, dainty one, and head down the stairs—only to stop dead in my tracks when I see him. I can’t help it. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He might be older, but the look works for him. And the way he fits in a pair of jeans? Fuck if it doesn’t make me think things that make my panties wet. The guy is hard all over, and the idea of a certain part being just as hard makes my face heat.
“Babygirl,” he says in a warning tone with a small smirk. He always knows when my mind is in the gutter because of my damn blush.
I googled how to stop it the other day. I’m supposed to “manage my thoughts” and “embrace the situation”—neither of which will help me at all. No way can I stop thinking about Karter in a sexual way unless I never see him again, which isn’t happening anytime soon if I can help it. And I’m all forembracingsomething, but knowing that he might not have had sex since his wife, I really don’t want to push the matter. Or worse, trigger something mid-act and be compared to a dead woman he loved longer than he’s even known me.
“Hmmm.” Nana eyes us both, and I look away guiltily first. Not that I’ve done anything wrong. We’re both consenting adults. And if we both happen to be thinking things that aren’t entirely appropriate, especially in front of my nana, then so be it.
“Ready?” he asks, holding his hand out for me as I finish descending the stairs and come to stand beside him.
“Big plans tonight?” Nana asks with a raised eyebrow, and I shake my head at her. Damn old woman. I love her, but she’s always trying to get a rise out of me.
“Just a movie,” I say at the same time he says, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I look up at him with wide eyes, not expecting his response, and he gives me a wink before looking back at Nana.
“Give me a few days to get the supplies and I can help on the garage.” He gives her a chin lift and then opens the door, releasing my hand only to guide me through the door first before shutting it. I note that he locked it from the other side, and he checks it’s secure before we head down the front steps to his bike.
“What does she have you working on now?” I swear, half the time he stops by, Nana is asking him to do one chore after another. He even comes over when I’m at work to do small things here and there.
If she were just a little younger, I’d be worried she was trying to sneak in on my territory, but Nana has never been one to play those types of games with men besides getting them to do things for her. I once came home to find she had somehow convinced all the neighborhood kids to organize her supplies for the vending machines in the garage. A task that usually takes days took them a few hours. And their reward? One soda. One! She’s a charmer for sure, that one is.
“She’s wanting access to the room above from the outside so she can just go in from the stairs and not have to open the garage and have her car be burdened by nature.”
“God forbid her car actually get sun damage or be gusted with wind,” I mock as I sit on the back of his bike and put on my helmet.
He chuckles as he starts it up, and I wrap myself around him and close my eyes. It won’t be a long ride to the movie theater, but I plan to enjoy the entire trip with him in my arms and not be distracted by the world around us.
Before long, the traffic noise dies, and we slow. I open my eyes, smiling, only to still as I look around.
“Where are we?”
He turns off his bike and gets off first. Something he hasn’t ever done before.
“My place.”
My stomach drops and I blink. Once. Twice. “Your place?”
