I snort out a laugh. “Okay, Drake, I appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think that can possibly be true.”
His brows ruffle but his smile twitches.
“What?”
The two still on the floor, Jett uses Beau’s shirt to steady himself as he slides off his lap, headed around the couch. “I’m surprised you know Drake that well.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I may be older than you but I knowDrake.”
His smile really twitches, like he’s fighting off a laugh, and before he gets in trouble, he pushes off the ground to his feet. “I’m not saying you wouldn’t know Drake because you’re older than me, I just figured with the no cursing rule and Jetpack that you wouldn’t be a big Drake listener, that’s all.”
“Every woman likes Drake.”
I think of Nancy Reid who listens only to Christian music and amend my statement. “Mostwomen like Drake. And besides, before Jett, I cursed. I listened to rap.”
“Do you still?” he asks as he carefully closes the distance between us, his eyes bouncing between me and the ground so as not to step on Jett.
I nod. He’s so close I can feel the warmth radiate off his skin, and I can smell the cool tea tree and mint shampoo he uses from here. “I would if I ever had the chance. I’m not alone much.”
He feeds our fingers together, and now we’re facing each other holding hands. Prickling excitement worms its way up my hands, through my wrists and arms, creeping into my neck and face.
“Do you like Drake?” I don’t know why but the question is barely audible. Beau’s tongue darts across his lips. His eyes analyze my mouth before he says, “I do like Drake.”
“What else do you listen to?” I ask as he uses our joined hands to bring our bodies flush. His cock is hard, and through his fitted jeans, I feel his erection against my belly. I may have no physical proof that I’m as turned on but I am. And if it weren’t for my son scooting around this place with the remote in his mouth, I’d probably start shamelessly grinding against Beau right now.
Because I want him in ways I’ve never wanted a man.
I never got to practically wet myself over how sexy and heart warming it was to see Dustin with Jett. I was cheated out of falling more in love with my husband when our child was born–that’s something all women say happens to them, and yet another thing to be added to the list of bullshit Dustin stole from me.
But as I rock to my toes and swallow his answers of “everything but country” in a soft kiss, I realize that I will have all those moments, just… with someone else, in a different way, with a completely new landscape on our horizon.
And it just may be better than what I thought I wanted.
“Same,” I say, a bit breathless as I pull back, Jett’s hands locked around my ankle as he cries, “mo-mo-mama!”
I break the connection between our hands to hold one of mine up, simulating an open and close sign. “This means more. When Jett says ‘mo-mo’ he means more. And more, at this stage in development, is really only used to find out if he wants more milk or not.”
Slowly Beau nods, and I watch him, catching the exact moment my words settle in.
“He wants to eat?” I love the crackle in his voice as he asks. My skin pricks with heat and anticipation as I remember how he tasted me last night. But all the excitement of what’s to come tonight blows away like a fart in the wind when Jett… farts. And more.
Beau laughs, immediately reaching down and pulling Jett to his chest. Cradling him with carefully placed hands, he laughs, Jett laughing right along with him. “Whoa, I guess that means you need your diaper changed, huh?”
I reach over and pull his diaper back, peering down. “Yep.” Anxiety has me mentally drumming my fingers on my thigh, trying to compartmentalize my tasks and the best way to tackle them without making Beau wait around my house for thirty minutes.
“What’s up?” Beau asks, reading the way I checked out for a second.
“He needs to be changed, but he also needs a bath and to eat.” I bite the inside of my mouth. “The pasta is done but needs to be drained and needs sauce and honestly, I’m embarrassed that my house is such a disaster, and before you say it doesn’t matter to you, I’m telling you, I’m type A and I won’t be able to fully enjoy this date with you if I’m sitting in a pile of unfolded laundry with my feet propped up next to dishes.”
He looks around the room and I can honestly tell it's the first time he’s really seeing the status of my house. “Hasn’t Goldie been here?”
I take Jett from his arms, and it’s the first time he’s reached for anyone but my parents.
“That’s why it’s so messy. I mean, I’m not normally living in a magazine spread or anything, but…” I look at the partially drank water cups and cans of La Croix littering the coffee table, “I know how to finish a drink.”
“And what to do with the empty when you do,” he adds with a smile. “Listen, let’s just tag team. You probably have to do Jett since, well,” he motionsmorewith his hand, earning him a grin from me. “I can’t provide the thing he wants most.”
My cheeks flush. “I can’t have you picking up my house.”