I was death.
That was, if death looked like a pile of dog shit that’d been run over by a golf cart full of polo-wearing, sweaty men before being scooped up and tossed in a lava pit.
I hadn’t woken up hung over. I actually only had a minor headache, which was the surprise of the century for me, but I’d barely slept a wink. I’d passed out within minutes of crashing but had woken soon after with a brain that refused to shut down.
A few hours later, and I was fucking dragging. I’d had to take a scalding shower and drink two large cups of coffee just to find the energy to get dressed for work. I was now slouched on my couch, listening to a lecture about the inefficiency of school drug programs while I worked on a crocheted baby blanket to keep myself from falling asleep a half hour before I needed to leave.
It was going well so far. I’d only had to restart the lecture three times when I’d failed to comprehend a word and re-do the same row of stitches five times when I kept losing count.
I’d finally given up on the lecture and was staring at the half-finished blanket resting in my lap when a knock sounded at my door. My head shot up, wondering who would be here this early. Rick and Layla were passed out in her room, and my parents wouldn’t have brought Jamie back yet.
Creaking the door open, my tongue got lodged in my throat at the sight of Garrett in his hoodie and a pair of sweats, holding a plate of cinnamon rolls. If delicious was a view, this would have been it. He had a slight shadow dusting his jaw, and his hair was tussled in an incredibly endearing way.
“Hey.”
“Good morning.”
His half-lidded eyes took in my work clothes before glancing down at himself. “Were you about to head out?”
I shook my head, opening the door wide enough for him to step through. “No, I still have a few minutes before I need to leave. What’s up? By the way, I’m desperately hoping those heavenly smelling morsels are for me.”
He smirked, handing me the plate. “Sarah made them this morning. She practically kicked me out of my own home to bring them to you before you left, as a thank you for dinner. She said to tell you nothing goes with chili better than cinnamon rolls.”
I half-laughed, half-squealed. “No one else on this coast does that! God, Harry better be ready for a fight because I might steal his wife.”
“You a fan of polygamy?” he poked, resting his fine rear on a barstool while I slapped a roll on a clean plate and put it in the microwave.
“Not particularly. I was just going to replace Layla with her. After last night, I’m sure you can understand why.” I busied myself with grabbing a paper towel, slapping myself internally for bringing up the previous night.
“She’s a feisty one.”
“That she is.”
Pulling my prize from the microwave, I didn’t even care that I had an audience as I stuffed my mouth with gooey, breakfast perfection.
His eyes sparked, a laugh hiding in their depths, but he turned, gesturing to my mess of items littering the living room. “So that’s what you do when you should be sleeping?”
“Jealous?” I asked, sticking my thumb in my mouth and sucking the icing off like the glutton I was.
His lids lowered. “Yes.” Clearing his throat, he stood, walking toward the couch and balancing his butt on the edge. “Your free time looks positively exhilarating.”
I joined him, closing my laptop and moving it out of the way so he could sit. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
He raised his eyes to the ceiling, lips moving like he was either praying for patience or talking to the popcorn.
“I see I’m not the only ceilologer.”
His head snapped back down, brows heavily creased. “A what?”
“Uh…” Why did I never think before I spoke with this man? I swore my social cues seized up completely when he was around. “Nothing.” I picked up my crochet hook, fiddling with the tip.
He stared at me for another moment, probably coming to terms with the fact that I was really fucking weird. No shade. I was. “What are you working on?”
I looked down at the soft bundle of pink and white yarn, feeling self-conscious. “A baby blanket.”
“Are you an aunt?”
“No. I do have a brother, but he doesn’t have any kids. I make blankets to donate.”
He continued watching me in that silent way of his, asking questions without actually asking them. I sighed, knowing there was no reason for the subject to embarrass me.
“There’s an amazing local organization that assists teenage mothers. I donate baby blankets to them.”
His jaw worked, and his eyes dropped to the blanket, watching my hands as I folded it up and carefully placed it in a canvas bag.
“It’s actually the kind of organization I’d like to work for, or even head, someday. Many teenage mothers turn to drugs or alcohol to cope with stress. A program dedicated to keeping them clean could do so much good.” I bit my lip, realizing I’d just told him something I hadn’t even told Layla or my family yet.
“Anyway, I’m behind on how many I usually make…” I trailed off, not sure why I was rambling about something he had no interest in. What grown man wanted to discuss crochet?
“I have never been so wrong about a person as I was about you,” he said.
I looked up, smiling. “I don’t know. If a rich, old guy offered to buy me a house in exchange for a few titty shots a month, I might say yes.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but his eyes darkened, dropping to the high collar of my blouse before coming back up. “Is that all it would take?”
My breathing quickened. He needed to stop looking at me that way. I didn’t know how to use my mouth or my fucking limbs when he looked at me like that.
I licked my lips, looking at the clock we had sitting by the television. “I mean, I’d also ask for my bills to be paid. As you know, I’d much rather go shopping and drink wine than have to work.”
His raspy chuckle caressed my skin, lighting me up from the inside out. He followed my gaze to the time and stood. “Shame. All I have to offer are cinnamon rolls.”
I watched him walk away, admiring the way his sweats shifted over his ass. “You didn’t even make them.”
He winked over his shoulder, pulling the door open. “And you didn’t get all the icing off your chin.”
Jamie hadn’t stopped talking since I picked him up after work, but I was soaking up every bit of it. As nice as it’d been to have a parental break for a night, I’d missed him.
“Did you know that rat poison is so effective because rodents are incapable of vomiting?”
“Huh. That makes sense I suppose.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of mean though. Did you know sloths sometimes mistake their arms as part of the tree and end up falling to their deaths?”
I darted a glance away from the road long enough to look back at him, but all I could see was his forehead hovering over the upheld animal book. “Is there a reason all these facts are about death?”
“Well, the next fact after the rats was about female koalas having more than one vagina, but I thought you’d appreciate the sloth one more.”
I blinked at the road. “Feel free to wash that out of my ears with a different fact, bud.”
“No, I think I’ll leave you with that one.” He giggled as we turned into our drive, but his laughter died when he jumped out of the Jeep and spotted Garrett to the right of us, leaning against his work truck with his phone to his ear.
The second Garrett saw Jamie, he uttered a quick, “I’ll call you back,” and hung up. “Hey, J-man, you have a good time at your grandparents’ house?”
I came around the vehicle in time to see Jamie kick at some loose gravel, his head down and arms wrapped tightly around his book. He couldn’t look more sheepish if he tried. “Yeah.”
It didn’t faze Garrett, and the way he smiled at my child made something stir in my middle, feeling a lot like indigestion.
Jamie opened his mouth. Closed it. Then repeated the action a second time. A determined expression crossed his face and he nodded, almost to himself. He handed his book to me and marched right up to our neighbor, extending his hand toward him.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. My mom told me you’re her friend and were just trying to help her.”
Garrett’s face softened as he shook my child’s hand and leaned down. “Never, and I mean never, apologize for defending your mom. You were right to yell at me.”
I forced myself to stay silent and let them hash it out when I really wanted to butt in and give my opinion. Jamie looked so much older than his eight years as he stood there, looking a grown ass man in the eye.
“We good, J-man?”
He gave a serious nod. “I would be okay with being friends.”
“Yeah?” Garrett’s smile lit my heart, giving that indigestion feeling a hard squeeze.
“Yeah.” Jamie released his hand, stepping toward me to grab his book. “But only if you promise not to make her cry again.”
Garrett’s smile fell, his face turning to stone as he locked eyes with me. “I promise.”
His words drifted to my heart and prodded at it, seeking entrance. I hadn’t trusted a man in a long time. Trusting someone meant opening yourself up for hurt, and I’d done that enough to last me a lifetime. But I believed him, and the knowledge of that had me sweating under my skin.
“Cool. So, you wanna come to my soccer game next Sunday?”
I choked on a laugh, pressing my fingers against my eyelids. For as protective as the kid could be, he was also completely guileless.
Garrett’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek, and an amused grin formed on his lips. “If you play soccer even half as well as you play games, I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, I’m basically the best.”
I laughed, snagging his shoulder and twisting him toward the door. “All right, hot shot, time to go inside.”
He grumbled an irritated, “Fine,” before also adding, “My mom will text you the time and place if you want to go.” He darted away, avoiding the playful smack I aimed at the back of his head.
I returned my attention to Garrett, feeling my pulse race when he shortened the distance between us to lean against the side of my Jeep. “Don’t let him guilt trip you, you don’t have to go Sunday.”
His face seemed contemplative, as he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked over my head toward the house. “You work, don’t you?”
I lowered my eyes, adjusting the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “Yeah, it’s at eleven in the morning, which is in the middle of my shift.”
“I’ll go.”
“You don’t have to—”
He cut me off again, straightening to his full height and stepping into my personal space until I had to tip my head back in order to maintain eye contact.
“Text me the address. I’ll go. I’ll even bring him home afterward. It’s not like it’s out of my way.” He smiled slowly, and it was sinful.
My lungs forgot how to work, and I had to swallow before I could answer. “I don’t have your number.”
“Give me your phone.”
What I should’ve done was scrunch my nose and told him I don’t take orders from men towering over me. What I should not have done was inhale his clean, male scent and hand my phone over without so much as a word.
A few seconds later, a ding came from the back pocket of his jeans, and he smiled. I reached to take my phone back, but he ignored me, leaning forward and pushing it into my purse. The way his face hovered over mine while his fingers eased the device through the open crevice of my purse straps should not have had me squeezing my thighs together, but my body officially had a mind of its own.
Feeling way in over my head and suddenly needing a cold shower, I side-stepped, putting some much-needed space between us. “I better go check on Jamie, he’s probably stuffing his face with snacks and ruining his dinner.”
His eyes dipped to my neck, then traveled up to my ears before resting back on my eyes. I retreated a few more steps, suddenly nervous my thoughts were written across my face.
“Have a good night, Madison.”
“Yeah, you too.” I took off, walking faster than was necessary until I’d shut the door, effectively cutting off his relentless stare. I dropped to the ground, my pulse erratic.
A buzzing sound caught my attention, and my stupid, idiotic heart picked up. Gripping my phone somehow felt intimate and dirty after the thoughts I’d had over his handling of it.
I unlocked my screen, and promptly burst out laughing, startling the dogs who’d come to greet me. Jamie poked his head out of his room, but I continued smiling down at my phone, wider than I had in a long time. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I was in so much trouble.
He’d put himself in my phone as Sugar Daddy.
