Page 60 of The Only Heart that Matters
Shit. Busted.
“Oh, of course. Yes, sorry. Come in. It’s your house, after all.” I’m stumbling all over myself like an idiot.
Opening the door wider, I step back so he can enter, and he breezes by in slow motion, his eye contact unsettling in the best possible way. He’s no longer hiding his feelings and in return making it impossible for me to hide mine. The thing is… it’s too late. Life has happened and there will never be anus.
Once he’s inside, I close the door, taking a beat to tamp down my embarrassment from getting busted checking him out before turning to face him. If only the clean, citrusy smell of him didn’t linger, clouding my thoughts.
God, he smells so good.
“Little man! Whatcha got there?”
Hearing him talking to Sawyer is my cue that it’s safe to turn around. But I couldn’t have been more wrong if I had said he was an alien from another planet.
Angus is squatting next to Sawyer’s chair while my sweet angel boy feeds him Goldfish crackers. Sawyer opens his mouth like I used to when I would feed him his baby food and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
My heart is not okay.
My son deserves a father figure like this. Sure, he has Angus in his life as a family friend. He’s as close to an uncle as he’ll ever get, but Sawyer deserves a daddy like the man currently eating crackers out of his slobber covered fingers.
Once the kitchen island is between me and the boys, I distractedly finish up the last details of dinner. I’m surprised at how excited I am to cook for him. Especially this meal. I plate everything on serving dishes and start carrying them to the table.
“So, tonight’s dinner isn’t fancy, but it’s your favorite.”
“I have a favorite?”
Instantly feeling flushed with nerves, I begin to doubt myself.
This has to be his favorite. It’s all he ever wants on his birthday. Right? Shit, did I get this wrong?
“I thought it was your favorite.” Keeping my eyes down, I slide around him and set down the tortilla warmer in the middle of the table along with the Mexican rice. “Maybe it’s just a birthday thing?”
“Well, hot damn. Did you make me carne asada street tacos, Goof?”
“I did,” I say, still not looking at him as I make another trip to the kitchen for the next round of dishes. “I hope that’s okay?”
“It’s perfect,” he says so softly I almost don’t hear him.
Glancing up, I find him watching me, a serious yet thoughtful look on his face. Like it means something that I remembered his favorite meal. His expression makes me happy, and I can’t help but smile. He releases his own smile, and we grin at each other.
We’re both happy.
“Mama, more fishies pease,” Sawyer says, breaking the sweet spell we were under.
Angus turns his attention to my son, allowing me a private moment to shake my head free of the inappropriate thoughts jumbling up my mind. Not sexy thoughts, but possibilities for a future kind of thoughts. You know, those even more dangerous kind of thoughts.
“Buddy, you need to eat more than fishies,” I say over my shoulder on my way back to the kitchen. “I’ve almost got everything ready, and then I’ll load you up.”
“Need any help in there?”
“I’m good, thanks. Almost done. Just take off your coat and sit your butt down. I oweyou, remember?Iwill do the cookingandthe cleaning. So, don’t even think about asking about helping with dishes later. Got it?”
“Wow, Sawyer. Is your mommy always this bossy?”
“Mama, bossy.” Sawyer giggles as I set the last of the dishes down.
“Hey, now. No ganging up on Mommy.”
“We would never, would we, buddy?” He winks and I melt.
