She nods. “Bald,” she waves her hand around her head, “with a wicked comb over that he thinks is seriously fooling people?”
Yep. That’s him. And while he is indeed the son of one of my father’s friends, he looks to be the same age as a freaking founding father.
“Have fun,” I tell her because even though Frank Jr. isn’t Johnny Depp, he is successful and kind, and I think that’s all Goldie needs right now. From what I know, at least.
She winks, pointing and wiggling a finger between Beau and I. “You two, too.” She holds up a peace sign then laughs. “Look, another two.”
“Later, Goldie,” Beau laughs.
When she’s gone, I turn toward the cabinet and collect the clean pump parts. Assembling them, Beau comes to stand by my side, watching me.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Breast pump. Since I didn’t feed Jett before bed or this morning at 6, I’m…in pain.” I motion to my swollen breasts beneath the t-shirt. “While I pump. I thought we could talk.”
His face falls, and I drape my hand over his forearm to reassure him. “About Jett’s first birthday. It’s in two months.”
“Oh shit, seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah. I was thinking of having it here. My yard is small, but it’s okay because I don’t honestly have a lot of friends here yet.”
He sinks into a kitchen chair as I slide the pump inside the pump bra, lift my shirt off and replace it with the bra, and sit down. Within a second, the pump is making its mechanical whirring sound and milk starts to fill the bottles.
I look at Beau and find his eyes wide, fixed on the bottles. “That's… wow.”
Snapping in front of my face, I smile when his eyes come to mine. “I wanted to know if you wanted to help me with it.” Asking for help as a single mom is… a big deal. I never want to ask because then people think you can’t do it on your own.
I can do it on my own, I just don’t want to anymore.
“I’d, uh, love to help,” he says, eyes struggling to stay on mine.
“You know,” I say sort of teasingly. “I won’t always be breastfeeding.” I trace my fingers around the edge of a mug, waiting for my coffee to steep. “Think you’ll still love my breasts when they’rejustbreasts?”
He licks his lips, and I’m pretty sure a bead ofI want to fucking look at your tits but don’t want to be a pervsweat slides down his temple. “They’re never just breasts. Milk or not, you’ve got the tits of every man’s dream.” He brings his palms up, rubbing them together with a sinister gleam in his eyes. “I will always be obsessed with your tits, Beck, even when they’re sitting on top of your feet, along with my balls.”
“Good answer,” I smile at him as the pump continues to empty me.
“Lucky device,” he says, a sexy grin sweeping his lips. “And I’d be fuckin’ honored to plan Jetpack’s party with you.” He cracks his knuckles and then busies himself with pouring us each a cup of hot coffee from the French press. “I hope this isn’tyou tell me what to grabtype of help. I wanna be making the planswithyou, not just given an errand list.” He slides me a full mug, and my heart feels just as full.
“I wasn’t going to give you a task list. That’s…”
“Impersonal,” he finishes, and it’s the exact right word because Beau isn’t the type of man that lets people take care of the things that matter to him. Clearly.
“Exactly,” I say, my voice coming out soft and pliable, like one more sweet comment from him would have me in tears. Instead, I sip my coffee and watch as the timer on the pump counts down. “We can start planning tonight… if that works for you?”
I hate that I’m still unsure how much time we will spend together. He called me for a ride every day for a month just to see me so it feels foolish to wonder but… I’ve been on the wrong side of assuming in too many crucial situations.
And you know what they say about assuming.
From across the table, his hand takes mine tightly, and my body warms. Not a sexual rush or a foreboding tingle but just… comfortable warmth. Like this feels right.
“Baby, I wanna spend every night with you.” He clears his throat while lifting his steaming mug to his lips. Before he takes a drink, he says, “I want you and Jett to come to my place. Overnight.”
I shouldn’t have a jolt of surprise but I do. I know Beau wants to be part of Jett’s life, and I expected him to make moves to do so but now that he is… I am overwhelmed with emotion. I wrinkle my nose in an attempt to force back the sandy, tingly heat that sears the bridge. That same heat flanks the back of my eyes.
“When?” I ask, pretending to be very interested in the surface of my drink.
He gives our joined hands a squeeze. “If you’re not ready–”