Her eyebrows pull together in concern. “What happened?”
“She egged my truck.”
“What?” she gasps, her mouth falling open.
“Well, we could never prove it was her, but we’re all certain. She started driving past my house, and I’m not sure how she found out where I lived. I never told her. She kept calling at all hours of the night from a blocked number and hanging up. Hell, she even went as far as to email corporate, telling them she was my wife.”
“Shut. Up.”
I can’t help but laugh at her outrage on my behalf. “Wish I were joking. I had to get a restraining order against her. It was a mess.”
“Wow, I’m sorry that happened to you,” she whispers, her eyes full of empathy and support.
Stepping closer yet, our bodies are mere inches away from each other. I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, hear the quick inhale of her breath. “They couldn’t ban her from attending races because they’re public events, but she’s supposed to keep her distance. She still shows up every now and again and tries to cause problems, but for the most part, I’ve barely seen her.” My hand moves to her cheek. “What did she say to you?”
“That you’d dump me in a month and move on to the next woman waiting in line.” Her eyes hold mine, and I can see the hint of insecurity flash through those orbs.
My hand cups her cheek, my finger gently stroking the soft skin. “There is no line, Lean. There wasn’t when I went on those few dinner dates with her. There hasn’t ever been a line, actually, and if there was, I paid it no attention. I only have eyes for one woman.”
She swallows hard, closes her eyes, and leans into my touch. I move forward even more, aligning our fronts so they’re touching. My left hand snakes around her back, resting just above the waistband of her pants. I can feel the heat of her skin seeping through the material, and suddenly I’m feeling a little drunk.
Drunk on her.
“I’m sorry she’s causing you so much grief,” she whispers, her breath a featherlight kiss against my lips.
“I’m sorry she bothered you. I’d never willingly put you in the line of fire, but I feel like that’s all I’ve done since you arrived.”
Lena shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m here because I want to be.”
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. All I want to do is kiss her. Years’ worth of pent-up frustration and desire has me ready to say fuck it and kiss her. She’s so fucking close. All I’d have to do is lean in just ever so slightly and claim her lips with my own. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Lena how close we are. She grips my forearm, her nails digging into my flesh. She licks her lips, her eyelids fluttering closed, and that’s when I know.
She wants this kiss.
Long seconds pass as I slowly move my lips toward hers. This is the moment I’ve been waiting three agonizingly long years for. My hand moves to her side and my fingers clutch her hip for stability. We’re so close, our lips aligned perfectly. All I have to do is move a fraction of an inch and claim her with a kiss, but Oliver wails from the seating area, breaking the spell.
The moment shatters like glass on a tile floor.
I don’t get my kiss.
Chapter Nine
Lena
It’s a beautiful Wednesday evening in Los Angeles. Well, as beautiful as it can be, considering the sun is out, but not really out. We’ve been cooped up for a few days at the house, Mack having long days at the shop and training track. By the time he gets home, he spends as much time with his son as possible before doing it all over again the next day.
Now, Oliver and I are a few blocks away at a small neighborhood playground, enjoying the gorgeous summer evening. He’s in the stroller, having fallen sleep not too long after we left. I use the opportunity to grab a few photos of him stretched out, the sun setting in the background behind a row of evergreens.
I take the long way home, yet careful to keep to the neighborhood I’m becoming familiar with. People are outside, enjoying the evening, and a handful even wave. Los Angeles and its suburbs are nothing like Brenton, where you know everyone in town. Even though this isn’t my preferred place to live, it’s not so bad for a visit.
We worm our way back toward the house. I stop and take a few pictures along the way, a bird bathing in a birdbath in a front yard, gorgeous blooms in different hues of pink and yellow, and even a little girl riding her bike down the sidewalk. We pass an older couple as they stroll along the walkway, their hands joined together. They offer me a warm hello as they pass, and I can’t help but stop and snap a photograph of them from behind, their linked fingers the focal point of the image.
We’ve been gone for more than an hour, and I know the time is coming for Oliver to wake up. He’ll want a diaper change, food, and a bath, most likely in that order. Well, the bath part he can do without,
