Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I decide to linger in bed and sneak a few pages in my latest read, but when I grab my phone to open my Kindle app, the time on the screen shocks the hell out of me.
When was the last time I slept until ten?
My earlier panic returns tenfold. Orion’s been taking care of my son for more than seventeen hours. Oh my God. I’m the worst mom ever.
I fling the covers off and toss on my robe, prepared to beg for forgiveness. I mean, seriously, who leaves their kid with someone for that long—someone they hardly know, at that.
Sure, I’m in the same house, only right down the hall, but still. My guilt threatens to consume me.
I make a quick detour by the bathroom to brush my teeth before flying out of my bedroom.
“Mama!” Maverick calls happily when he sees me, jumping up and meeting me in the hall. “You’re up!”
“I’m so sorry.” I wrap him in my arms and pepper kisses all over his syrup-sticky face. “So, so sorry.”
“Why?” he and Orion ask at the same time.
“For sleeping in, for making you watch him this long, for—”
“Cut it out,” Orion says, all business as he stands from the couch.
“Cut what out?” I ask, fearing I’ve somehow made the situation worse. God, he probably thinks I’m just some user who takes advantage of the kindness of others.
“Stop apologizing.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Frankie.” He doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of me, so close that I can smell his cologne. He smells like citrus, bergamot, and bad decisions. “I figured you could use the sleep. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is, though,” I insist. “And I don’t want you to think I just hand my kid off to whoever—”
Orion cuts me off for the third time. “You want to know what I think?”
“What?” I whisper.
“I think you need to cut yourself some slack.” I lower my eyes, focusing it on the tops of Maverick’s curls. But Orion presses on. “You’re a single mom, a waitress, and a college student.”
He gently grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my gaze to his. “If I didn’t want to spend time with him, I wouldn’t, okay?”
I swallow roughly and nod, halfway hoping he’ll release me, but he doesn’t.
“I want your words, Frankie,” he says, stroking my jawline with his calloused thumb.
The combination of his scent and touch triggers some sort of muscle memory, and before I know it, my body’s nearly quivering with need.
“O–okay.” I barely manage the single word, and my cheeks flame at how raspy my voice comes out.
“Good.” He strokes my jaw one last time before releasing me and taking a half-step away. “Now, go get ready, because I promised Maverick that we could try my favorite deli near the park.”
“You did what?” I ask, every drop of the lust just coursing through me evaporating as my heart and brain are at war over this.
My heart is overjoyed at Maverick having a male presence in his life, but my brain is stomping and screaming profanities, because who is he to promise my son anything?
The man is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. And while I might feel like I know him, the only thing I really know is that he has a penchant for strippers and enjoys watching me touch myself.
Our relationship is base level at best—no, it’s less, because in the light of day, Orion Cartwright doesn’t even recognize me.
I want to be mad. I want to stomp my foot and rage and demand how dare he! But for some reason, I can’t seem to hold onto my anger.
Orion cocks his head, studying me, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I just figured since we were going to Coolidge Park that we could eat somewhere nearby.” He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“Thanks, Orion.” I hang my head to hide the blush staining my cheeks. I’m so used to going it alone that I’m looking for a fight when there isn’t one to be found. “We’ve never been there, so you’ll have to tell us what’s the best thing to order.”
He studies me for a long minute, and it’s like he can see through all of my walls, straight into my soft heart. “I won’t steer y’all wrong, but get ready quick because they get busy once church lets out.”
I force my lips into a smile. “Come on, Mav.” I grab his hand and give it a soft tug. “Let’s get ready.”
Fortunately, he follows me back to our bedroom without any fight.
Unfortunately, he’s far too perceptive for his age. “Are you mad?” he asks, the second I close the door behind us.
I take a deep breath, holding it for ten seconds before slowly blowing it out. “No, I’m not mad. I’m just…” I pause, because how do I explain to my son that Orion somehow activates my fight or flight instinct on a level I never even knew existed?