Gazing up at him, I tilt my head. “So, thereisa type? I never thought I had a type before...well, before today. I guess I do,” I shoot back, biting my bottom lip. I watch his Adams apple bounce as he swallows hard.
“Neither did I. Have a type before, that is. Not until a curvy, sassy, stunning little thing ran into me and showed me otherwise.”
Having no words for that, I smile like an idiot as I burrow my face into his shoulder. He takes care of the transaction, despite me trying to pull out the card my stepfather gave me. I frown when he gives an address I don’t recognize as the delivery address. I say nothing until we head out, but I stumble to a stop when he heads into another store.
“Uh...what is happening? Why did you just...I mean, my stepfather said to get what I needed but he gave me his card to take care of it. I told him I will pay him back once I find a job,” I rush my words out, feeling my breath trapped in my lungs, “you did not give them their address. I don’t.... make me understand. I came home to grow up a little, but I can’t if....” I trail off, walking away from him and dropping his hand as panic consumes me.
I am a foolish girl sometimes who does foolish things. I am always curious and make choices before thinking things through. It was fun to take the late-night train into the city to dance at a club with strangers I just met. Or to take on another degree because I wasn’t ready to leave college. I love to learn, and love to take risks but all of that got me nowhere in life.
For all that learning and risk taking I have nothing to show for it. Just three degrees I will likely never use, a ton of debt, and no direction in life. Coming home was meant to be a fresh start. A chance for me to grow up and follow my mother’s lead. Learn how to pay bills, how to take care of myself, and be responsible for once in my life.
Here I am once again behaving like a foolish little girl.
“Parker, I flooded my apartment and almost burnt it down twice. I stayed in school for six years, cannot cook, cannot hold a job for more than a few months, have no idea how to budget money, and I think I sleepwalk. I am a mess. I thought coming home to my mother...I might watch her live life. Study her the way I did philosophy and theater—learn something of use.”
“Who said you needed to grow up? Did someone tell you that you had to change how you live life or how you see things? I would fucking hope not,” Parker seems affronted at the very idea of that, “the way I see it,youought to be teachingushow to live. All those stories, the mishaps, the mistakes, you dealt with them, and you kept going, still seeing the world with hopeful eyes. Not being good at paying bills or running a dishwasher does not mean you are inept, baby girl,” he coos as we sit at a bench as I try to catch my breath.
Bowing my head between my legs, I close my eyes as he rubs my back. He tends to me for long moments, kissing the nape of my neck, muttering to me. Not really talking, just saying my name, making soft, soothing sounds that calm me. He wraps himself around me in a protective embrace. I want to curl up in the safety of him and figure it all with him.
“Where did you send my things? Why did you pay for them?” I whisper, wincing as I break the calmness.
“Sent them to my place, pet,” he hums softly, pressing butterfly kisses at my ear, my throat, my chin, “when I said I don’t want another man taking care of you, did you think I was teasing? No one else will take care of you now, Perri. I decided the moment I laid eyes on you that was for me to do.”
Pushing back, I blink at him in the diming light. We wandered the shop for so long the sun has set and the night creatures fill the air with their melodic sounds. I face him silently, searching for some sign that he can’t be trusted. That he will hurt me or use me or try to change me somehow.
“What does...th-that mean? For you to, totake careof me, I mean?” I stutter as he watches me with soft eyes I find no dishonesty in.
“Perri, it means just what I say it does. Before I met you today, my entire life was flying. Nothing else mattered to me, just being up in the air. I do my job, drink with the guys on Thursdays at a bar downtown. Flirt with women whose names I don’t bother to learn. I have nothing to go home to and nothing but my work to look forward to.”
“Not even apet?” I tease him before the flare of his eyes makes my thighs clench.
“Not until you,” he hums, sliding his hands between my thighs to shove them open. I gasp when his fingertips brush against my sex, still sensitive from earlier. He grins and rubs slow, steady strokes over my folds until my legs start to shake, bouncing on the pavement. “Now all I can think about is taking care of you. I became obsessed the second you looked at me. Once I touched you and tasted you,” he hums, pulling his fingers from between my legs to suck at the middle two he just used to touch me.
“What about the Commander? And I mean...we met today. Me coming to your place is...it’s nuts. I mean I do plenty of things you could call nuts. I walked barefoot to the train station because I didn’t want to get a new pair of shoes dirty. Oh, and one time, I fell asleep on the roof at my old apartment. I went up to look at a meteor shower and forgot my keys. It was a nice night. But uh...I sleep in the nude so....” I trail off, realizing I am rambling.
“Noted, pet,” he teases with a grin before he sobers, “from now on, you let me worry about things. All I want you to do is give me a chance. Let me prove I can take care of you. Will you give me a chance?”
I mean...how can I argue with that? How can I tell this sweet man who has doted on me all day that no, I don’t want to give him a chance. I cannot know what his idea of taking care of me truly means. If today is just a glimpse of it, I want it. I never wanted someone before this way. All my life I took chances on things that never panned out and I came out the other side.
How can taking a chance on a hot flyboy go wrong?