Page 177 of Shade
“I know my contract says—”
And she cuts me off. “Scarlet, I don’t expect you guys to stick to that. I know you are both adults and have needs.” I giggle when she says that because though we have needs, she has no idea the needs I’ve been taking care of for him lately. “I just put the no sex in the contract so you wouldn’t get confused with why you were there in the first place. You were there to snap him out of the bullshit.” She pauses, and I can hear the baby crying in her arms. “But I think waiting has helped both of you develop an actual relationship rather than a physical one, hasn’t it?”
Shit. She’s right.
“Okay, you’re right. But when do you come back?”
Willa laughs, the sounds of the baby cooing in her ear. “Not long.”
I’LL SKIP SOME things here. The unimportant parts.
Like me showering, shaving my legs, cutting them, trimming the thin patch of hair I keep on my girly bits and finally, taming my hair. That proves to be the hardest part.
Around six forty-five, I make my way out of the guest house and to the driveway where Shade said he’d meet me.
Tiller’s out there washing his truck with no shirt on. It’s fall by the way, but it’s also Southern California, and it didn’t get the memo it’s fall.
He holds the hose up like he’s going to spray me. “Need a shower?”
I glare. “Don’t even think about it. My hair will poof up.”
“That’d be hot. I like it wild and crazy.” He hits the nozzle, and the spray moves over the stone beneath my feet but doesn’t reach me quite yet, but it’s close.
“Tiller. . . ,” I warn.
He laughs, and it’s almost manic.
That’s when I notice Shade approaching. “Hey,” he says, smirking and it’s devastatingly beautiful to see this look again.
“Hey,” I say back.
Shade pushes a hand through his dark hair. I love this look, scruffy sharp jaw line, blazing blue eyes, a black polo shirt meeting a pair of light-gray shorts hanging off his hips in the most delicious way.
He doesn’t wear the neck brace. He claims he doesn’t need it anymore and because you can't take a girl out and wear it. His words, not mine.
Shade’s eyes lie heavily on me from a few feet away. They’re hidden behind his Von Zipper’s, but his regard, his attention, it’s all on me. I’ve felt this look before, but now, here in the setting southern California sun, there’s newness in his focus.
He inches his sunglasses to the brim of his nose. “You’re pretty tonight.”
I twirl like I’m a ballerina. “I am every day, star boy.”
He catches me by the waist. “You are.” Then glances at Tiller who’s attempting to spray us with the hose. “Knock it off, asshole.”
Tiller chuckles darkly. “I’m holdin’ the hose, man.”
Camden runs up to us, a soap-covered sponge in hand and grins at us. “Where are you going?”
“Maestro’s,” Shade tells him, ruffling his hair.
“I love steak. Can I come too?”
“Not this time, bud.” Camden’s face falls. “But tomorrow night, it’s on. Me, you, and Mario Brothers.”
Camden shrugs. “Okay.” And then he’s back to Tiller’s truck. “Can I drive it down the driveway?”
Tiller squirts him with the hose and tosses his keys at him. “Knock yourself out.”
I glance at Shade, who’s smiling at me. “Is he really going to let him drive his truck?”
