“I’M SORRY. I shouldn’t have just assumed you didn’t want children,” he says, his brows dipped inward with concern. “I wish I hadn’t said that.”
With my best poker face, I tamp down the pesky emotions that still threaten to make an appearance now and again, forcing myself to smile. “No worries.”
He starts to speak again then seems to think better of it, and his mouth clamps shut. The silence shouldn’t feel this awkward between us. We hardly know each other. “Hey, Jeff?”
“Yeah, Tinkerbell?”
Why does my stomach flip when he calls me that stupid name? It’s not at all original. I’ve been called that or “pixie” my entire life, given my small size, blonde hair, and green eyes. But when he says it, something deep inside stirs giving me a little throb between the legs—a vaginal heartbeat, if you will.
Dammit. I’m going to have to fuck him. I’ve never slept with an older man before. Well, I mean…he can’t be all that old. But I think twenty-five has been the oldest I’ve been with. Jeff needs me, poor man—I reason with myself. Plus, my vagina would never forgive me for not scratching this itch. And I’m finding myself very curious about his sex noises. Every time he growls, I wonder what he sounds like moaning in pleasure.
It’s settled. Jeffrey and I are going to do the nasty!
“Tink?”
“Huh? Sorry, I guess I kinda got lost in my own head for a sec.”
His answering laugh is hearty and rich and oh, so manly. What the hell am I doing crushing on a single dad? A fucking widow at that?
“You said my name.”
“I did?”
“Yup.”
Oh, yeah. “Hey, has anyone ever told you that you sort of look like Chris Hemsworth?”
“Chris Hemsworth, eh? Don’t women find him kinda hot?”
Gulp. “Definitely.”
“Are you saying you find me attractive, Tink?” Damn him and that fucking smirk straight to hell.
“You’re not bad for an older dude.”
Jeff’s hand goes to his chest, “Ouch, you wound me. Just how old do you think I am?”
Eyeing him head to foot, I take in the light dusting of gray mixed in with the blond at both of his temples and in the scruff on his chin. The fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which somehow only add to his appeal. He’s in great physical shape—long and lean with defined muscles. His Adam’s apple, prominent in the front of his throat, makes my mouth water. “Um. I’d guess thirty-five-ish?”
His laughter reveals a perfect set of straight, white teeth. “How old are you?” he counters. “That you think thirty-five is old.”
This should be interesting. “How old do you think I am?” I lift my brow, crossing my arms on my chest. It doesn’t escape my notice how his eyes zone right in on my breasts.
“Well, you look about twenty-three.”
I feel heat flood my cheeks as I beam at his answer.
“That’s not a compliment, by the way. I really thought you were his sister. But, having spoken to you, and since he’s your friend’s kid…shit. Umm. I’ll go with thirty…No. Let me say twenty-nine, to be safe.”
“Thirty-five,” I deadpan, enjoying the look of shock on his face.
He sputters for a moment in disbelief. “How old are the guys you date?”
I give him a noncommittal shrug. “To be clear, I don’t date…I fuck. And usually somewhere in the twenty-two to twenty-five range.”
“Cougar.”
Gasp. “No…I just have a thing for young, eager men. They fuck like they have something to prove, and aren’t out searching for their future brides.”
“Thirty-eight and you’d be amazed how much better a man gets with age.” He leans back further in his chair, trailing his eyes up and down my body.
“Is that an invitation?” I ask, biting my lower lip.
“To be clear, I don’t date,” he answers, throwing my words back at me. “I fuck.”
“Hey, Daddy?” Evangeline calls, jogging around to our end of the pool. Perfectly timed to save me from having to respond. Jesus, my heart is racing.
“Yeah, princess?” He called her princess. My fucking nonexistent ovaries damn near explode.
“The Scotsman just announced an ’80s party out here tonight after dinner. You think maybe we could all meet up?”
Jeff looks my way in question.
“Sure. Sounds like fun.”
He nods before resting his hands on his knees and rising from the lounger. “Guess we’ll see y’all after dinner. It’s about time for us to go get your sister from the kid room, Vange.”
§
“Ah, Miss Gina, Lake, Landon, and you must be Kyle, the man in charge.” Our server, Wesley, greets us at our table by name, placing a basket of assorted breads in the center and filling our water glasses. He’s dark, Haitian per his nametag, with an exuberant smile of strikingly white teeth.
Wesley tells us that he’s been working on the cruise ships for over ten years and has four boys back home and another on the way. He works six-month contracts and goes home just long enough to make another baby before he’s back out to sea.
“Just freaking great!” Kyle announces, rolling his eyes.
Oh, no.
“Mr. Wesley,” Kyle starts, staring the man straight in the face. “Please don’t shoot your sperms in my Aunt Gigi’s vagima. We already have too many babies.”
Water sprays out from my mouth and nose as I begin choking. I swear that man’s face, dark as it is, has turned ten shades of red. I can’t catch my breath.
“Kyle!” Lake shouts through guffaws. “Dude, that was so rude.”
The savage four-year-old’s face falls. Those big brown eyes well with tears, and he becomes panicked. He really is a sweet baby.
“It’s okay, Kyle,” I reassure him, dabbing the tears of mirth from my eyes with my napkin. “It’s just not nice to talk to strangers about their sperm, okay?” His little head nods, that signature booboo lip hanging to the floor. “Just tell Mr. Wesley you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry.” A big crocodile tear drips down his cheek, and I pull him into my lap, cuddling my little boyfriend. I never could handle seeing him upset.
Wesley, bless his heart, is a great sport about the whole thing. Kyle’s tears have our waiter all flustered as well and earn him a cup of ice cream before dinner.
Just as Savage is finishing up his pre-dinner dessert, I hear him groan, and he hangs his head. “Oh, brudder.”
“Dats Tyle! He’s in my group, Daddy, and I’m going to mawwy him!” pipes a little voice from nearby.
I look to the once-empty table to the left of us, which is now occupied by none other than Mr. CEO and his two daughters. His little one is an absolute doll, with the bounciest blonde curls, her daddy’s blue eyes, and dimples for days. She’s his spitting image. In other words—trouble.
“You’re not marrying anyone, Willow. You’re going to live with Daddy forever,” Jeffrey says to his daughter in a no-nonsense tone without the slightest hint of a smile. I do believe the man is serious.
And, he’s fucking beautiful in his black button down, tucked into charcoal gray dress pants. Black shoes. Black belt. If it weren’t for the tenderness he exudes with his girls, I’d swear he had a black heart to match.
“Yeah,” Kyle agrees. “Listen to your dad. I’m already marrying my Aunt Gina.” His declaration is loud, earning us the attention and giggles of half the dining room.
“Should have known the boy Willow hasn’t stopped talking about would belong to you,” Jeffrey grumbles before cracking a smile of his own.
“Can’t help it that we’re all so irresistible.” I shrug my shoulders, and his face hardens for a moment.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Tink.” Ouch. His attention turns to his girls, and I force mine back to my godsons.
What an asshole. Ah, well. It will just make the sex that much better. I could be down with some good hate sex!
§
“Catch me a glow stick, Auntie Gigi!” Kyle shouts as the Scotsman and his assistants begin tossing various-sized neon glow sticks out into the crowd. Prince’s “1999” has everyone bouncing on their feet, including a certain CEO who I’m doing my best to ignore. I jump as high as I can every time they come our way, but being little has its disadvantages.
Just as I’m about to go snatch one from the hand of a stranger, Jeffrey appears in front of Kyle with a huge, bright orange, glowing baton and a neon yellow necklace, which he drapes around his neck.
“There ya go, buddy.”
Kyle’s eyes light up. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
My heart thrums in my throat as I watch the two of them engaged in conversation, with Jeff crouched down to his level.
“I’m still not marrying your daughter,” Kyle announces.
The CEO sucks in his cheeks and lips, warding off a smile. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
“You should really talk to her. She’s kind of pushy.”
“I’m trying,” Jeffrey assures him. “But she pushes me around too.”
Kyle nods. “Also, I think you need to tell Auntie Gigi you’re sorry. You hurted her feelings when you told her not to flatter herself.”
Heat radiates from my every pore as I pretend not to hear their conversation, diverting my attention off to the side where the three teenagers are bouncing around with Willow.
“That hurt her feelings, did it?”
“I think so and anyway my daddy says you should always flatter women because it makes them happy, and a happy woman will give you all the things. He says Aunt Gigi is a force, so we should all do what we can to keep her and Mommy happy.”
“Well, your daddy sounds like a very intelligent man.”
“He is,” I hear Kyle answer before my name is yelled out in his voice, “Gigi! Come see.”
I take a deep breath then turn and walk over to join them. “Yes, Kyle?”
“Mr. CEO has something he needs to say to you.”
Jeff blushes. “It has come to my attention that I may have unintentionally hurt your feelings at dinner earlier tonight…”
“Please,” I laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you had any effect on my feelings.”
He shrugs, looking down at Kyle before rising to his feet.
“You tried.” Kyle throws his hands up in defeat.
“I tried,” Jeffrey echoes as Willow runs over, trying to pull Kyle out onto the dance floor.
“Tum dance wif me, husband.” That sweet blonde baby yanks on my stubborn godchild’s arm, and he doesn’t budge. The look on his face is pure disgust. It’s amazing.
“I think you might hurt her feelings if you don’t go dance with her, Kyle,” Jeffrey says, giving Kyle back a bit of his own advice.
Conceding with a groan, he allows the little girl to pull him away. “Women!”
Jeff chuckles, staring after them and nods in agreement. “Women!”
When the ’80s party ends at 10:00 p.m., the children all beg to go back to their respective kids’ clubs until they shut down at midnight. That leaves Jeff and me meandering the halls back toward the elevators, together.
Luck would have it that we end up in the same elevator, alone. I’m a little tipsy and a lot horny, and beyond tired of this tension. So, I decide to throw him a bone and see if he’ll bite. “Is it wet in here?” I ask, nibbling my bottom lip seductively.
Jeffrey’s face screws up in confusion as he looks around the elevator, finally landing on my face. “No.”
“Oh, my bad. Must just be my vagina.”
