“Well…”
“You need a new job.”
“Yeah, no kidding?”
“What do you know about cars?” I tease. “I could always use help in the shop.”
She gives me a wry look. “Believe me, you don’t want me anywhere near your garage.”
“You’re right, too much of a distraction,” I say, my stomach taking that moment to grumble.
“On that note, you’d better get some food into you, and I need to get home and hit the books.”
“Let me cook you breakfast before you go.” She glances at the clock, and crinkles her nose. “If you want, I can even teach you how to make pancakes from scratch.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I know how to cook. I was just in a hurry.”
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“That you were trying to sneak out of here.” She frowns, and plucks at the blankets. “Hey what?”
A moment of silence and then, “I don’t want Cassie to get the wrong idea about us, Jaxon. I don’t want her to think I’m anything more than her sitter, or your client. I can’t be her mom figure.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “I know. I don’t want you to be.” She looks away for a moment, but I catch the conflicting emotions on her face before she turns. “Rach?”
“Yeah?”
“What?” I ask.
She turns back to me. “Where is her…mom?”
As anger and sadness move through me, I push from the bed, and walk to my closet. I grab a pair of jeans and tug them on.
“I’m sorry. Never mind. It’s none of my business,” she says quickly.
I turn, and Rachel’s back is to me as she searches the floor for something to wear. She grabs my t-shirt from last night, and pulls it on. My heart misses a beat as she stands there in my clothes.
“She left us,” I say. “We weren’t enough for her.”
Rachel stiffens and turns to me. “I’m sorry.”
“She ran off with her dealer,” I tell her. I’m not sure why I’m opening up. I keep that part of my life pretty confidential, and don’t like to talk about it—with anyone. Not even the guys. When it comes right down to it, I’m private. That’s a trait Rachel and I have in common. She’s yet to tell me anything about herself, and I respect that. We’re having a brief affair. Nothing more, nothing less. Her demons are hers, and mine are mine. But I still can’t help but wonder…
“Ohmigod, Jaxon. I had no idea.”
She steps up to me, slides her hands around my body and lays her cheek near my heart.
“Her parents don’t know the extent of her drug addiction, and they blame me for her leaving,” I say.
She lifts her chin, looks into my eyes. “How is it your fault?”
“When we met, we were both big into partying, but I slowed down and stopped her when she got pregnant. She couldn’t handle this life I guess. She got deeper into the drug scene, then eventually left.”
I run my fingers through her hair and hold her to me.
“Do you still love her?”
“She gutted me, Rach, and I hate what she did to Cassie, but I can’t deny that I worry about her. She is, after all, the mother of my child.”
Rachel presses her lips to my chest. “If she came back clean, you guys could be a family again,” she says, her voice softer, lower than a minute ago.
“I really hope she gets herself clean, and gets her life back on track.” Not because I want her back, but because Cassie needs her mother. “How about those pancakes?” I say, not wanting to dredge up any more painful memories.
She pushes from me and her smile is a bit wobbly. “Yeah, sure.” She injects a lightness in her voice that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I reach back into my closet and hand her a pair of my sweats. She climbs into them and masochistic bastard that I am, I watch her. My cock jumps in my jeans. Why the hell can’t I get enough of her? I’m not sure but I’m hoping that over the course of the next couple weeks, I’ll fuck her out of my system.
“Are you going to put on a shirt?” she asks.
“I wasn’t going to.” She plants her hands on her hips, the look so sexy my throat dries. “You want me to?”
“Yes, Jaxon. You really have to stop walking around half naked all the time.”
“And here I was thinking you should do it more often. Especially when you’re in your room and walking past your window.”
She points to my dresser. “Get a shirt on. Now.”
Laughing, I grab one and tug it on. “Better?”
“Yes.”
She leaves the room and I follow her out. She darts into the bathroom and I head to the kitchen to put the coffee on. But first I pick her clothes up from the floor, a grin on my face as I recall the way I’d removed them from her body last night. I set them on the chair, flicked on some tunes, and start the pancake batter. That’s when I realize I’m still smiling. Christ, I can’t remember the last time a woman made me walk around my place grinning like the village idiot.
“I love that song,” Rachel says, coming around the corner. She sways to the song, and grabs two mugs from the cupboard, already familiar with my kitchen, and I kind of like how she feels so at home.
“Chocolate chips or blueberries?” I ask as I dump flour into a bowl.
“Ah, chocolate,” she says. “Like that should even be a question.”
“You and Cassie. Am I going to have to try to sneak fruit into your meals, too?”
She goes up on her toes, and taking me by surprise, places the softest kiss on my mouth. “You’re a good dad,” she says and my heart misses a beat as she pours us each a steaming mug of java.
I dump a handful of chocolate chips into the batter, heat up the frying pan, and pour.
“Mmm, smells good.”
I make a couple
