I tug her by the waist until she’s flush against me. “Don’t wear shorts like that then.”
Her breath hitches, but I hear footsteps running down the staircase and release my hold on her.
“You go on. I’ll bring the drinks out back.” She lets out a breath.
I wink at her and turn back to the front of the house. “Let’s go!” Brody shouts, swinging open the door, and I follow.
All we manage to do is offload the material and draw up plans for the treehouse. There is still a lot more wood I need to get before we have everything.
He yawns, and Shelby scolds me for tiring him out.
“I’m not tired, Mom,” he complains.
“Oh yeah?” she challenges.
She brings out a few hotdogs, and I fire up the grill. She ushers Brody inside and has him take a bath. I’ve made us dinner by the time she comes back downstairs.
Brody eats slowly, his eyes already drooping. Before long, he’s asleep in his chair.
“I’ll carry him inside,” I offer.
“I can just wake him up. He’s used to that,” Shelby assures me.
“It’s cool.” I stand and pick up the boy, holding him against me. She leads the way up to his bedroom, turning on the light and dusting the bed as I stand looking around the room.
It’s painted blue, with posters of space shuttles and the solar system on the walls. His toys are neatly packed away, which is a contrast to my room at that age.
“You can put him down,” Shelby whispers.
I gently lay him down on the bed. She pulls off his shoes and removes his jacket. “So much for not being tired.” She snickers.
“He’s a boy. He’ll never admit it.” I chuckle.
She tucks the blanket to his chin, and I smile at how peaceful he looks.
“Thanks,” she says when we’re in the hallway, Brody’s bedroom door closed behind us.
“It was nothing. I have carried guys my own size from time to time.”
“Not for that.” She shoves at my chest. “For the treehouse and just being nice to him.”
“He’s a great kid. I liked him way before I met you.”
“That so?” she questions, stepping closer to me, hands on her hips. She pushes against my chest and backs me up against the wall.
“I’m afraid it is,” I utter. The way she’s looking at me has my cock straining against my zipper. I swallow hard.
“You nervous, slick?” she asks, tilting her head up and nipping my chin.
Fuck, I can’t do this here. “Shelby...”
“Hmm…” Her hands are under my t-shirt now, and she’s sucking on my neck.
“I-I got an early morning.” She stops, cocks a brow.
“Seriously?”
I nod.
