“I enjoy shopping for him,” Wes admits. “So does my mom.”
“I can tell.”
Wes picks up the heavy telescope with ease, putting it on the back porch for the night. I don’t think theft is a worry around here. We step back into the house and the warm air feels hot against my cheeks.
“You’re all set for the morning?” he asks, taking off his shoes. He’s nervous about me driving Jackson, and usually something like this would annoy me. I’m capable. Trustworthy, well, that’s questionable, but this time there’s nothing to worry about.
“Yes. His bag is ready to go, and you showed me the drop-off and pick-up procedure twice today.”
He laughs. “Sorry. He’s only been in school a few weeks and I don’t know if he’s used to his new routine or not yet.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’d rather see you be a little overprotective than too carefree with him. I know you love him, and you’re a good dad.”
“Thanks,” he says, almost as if my statement caught him off guard. “It’s not always easy, ya know, doing things alone.” He goes to the fridge and grabs the plate of leftovers. Jackson helped me make chicken enchiladas tonight and while I don’t mean to toot my own horn, we both went back for seconds.
“This looks good,” Wes says as he sticks his plate in the microwave.
“I enjoyed it. Jackson did too.” There’s still nearly a minute left on his food, and suddenly the silence feels awkward. I go into the living room, fold the blanket I was using, and grab my tea to reheat again.
I add another spoonful of sugar to it, stirring it, and stick it in the microwave once Wes’s food is done heating. We both sit at the table.
“Do you have campaign stuff tomorrow too?”
He shakes his head. “No, just the gym and then work. I’ll go grocery shopping on the way home. If there’s anything you want, I can grab it for you.”
“I do like chocolate an awful lot.”
He smiles. “Noted. Any kind or something special?”
“I guess any kind. But not dark chocolate. That shit is nasty.”
Wes laughs, cutting into another piece of his food. “Agreed. And you know you don’t have to make dinner every night. I’ll do it the nights I’m home.”
“I don’t mind,” I say honestly. And really, I want to stay busy. Being busy keeps me from thinking.
“Oh, and I’m off all day Wednesday, so if there was something you want to do, feel free.”
“I might go visit my dad and my sister,” I tell him. And I really should, especially since Dad fell again yesterday. As soon as I get paid, I’m going to burn through half my money just buying medication for him. Since my food and lodging are figured into my pay, I’m more or less living here for free. I could send all my money over to Dad and Heather. Yeah, I want stuff for myself. But I don’t need stuff.
Wes nods. “I’m sure they’d like that.”
“Yeah. I think so.” Heather will at least. Dad might not remember who I am. I finish my tea, put the mug in the dishwasher and wipe down the already-clean counter just so I have something to do. Wes is done now, and we both look at each other in an awkward stand-off.
He has to be thinking the same thing I am. We kissed, and it was a damn good kiss. I felt his hard cock against me. My breasts pressed against his firm chest, and we both wanted more. If Jackson hadn’t come down the steps, we would have had more.
And then what?
Would we be in an even more awkward situation than we are right now? I’ve never had someone resist me like this, and it sucks. Only because I want him something terrible…and not just physically, as much as I don’t want to admit that to myself.
I should hate him, but I can’t. Because, without a doubt, Weston is making me feel.17Scarlet“I thought maybe you forgot about me now that you’re a working girl and all,” Heather says, sitting back in the plastic chair. Her hair is even worse than before, and she has a bruise on her cheek.
“What happened?” I ask, ignoring her subtle jab.
She shrugs. “Kickball got a little rough in the yard.”
“You’re allowed to play kickball?” I shake my head. “That’s not the point. Please don’t get in fights.”
“Seriously, Scar? Like I want to get in fights?”
I let out a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just…don’t get into fights.”
Heather rolls her eyes. “How’s the new job? Are you ready to slit your wrists yet?”
“No. It’s not bad at all. I kinda like it.”
Heather cocks an eyebrow. “You hate kids. This guy must be loaded for you to say you like being a nanny for a rich, spoiled brat.”