“You’ve lived here longer.” He sounds a little like a petulant child. He and Oliver must get along real well.
“You do realize you’re acting ridiculous, right? What is it with you making mountains out of molehills anyway?” He frowns at me and then looks over at Oliver who is standing quietly, staring at the grass.
“Hey buddy, I told you to stay in the backyard. Not cool.” Carson’s voice is gentle when he talks to him which slightly appeases me for some reason. At least he’s not a dick to his own nephew.
“Sorry, Uncle Car. Bianca was making a painting and said I could look at it.”
He turns his head to me and raises his eyebrow. “Bianca, I presume?”
“And you must be Uncle Carson.” He looks like he’s waging a little war within himself and politeness finally wins out. He reaches out his hand and I slip mine into his. There’s animmediate tingle in my fingers that spreads across my palm and up my arm. It’s almost like I stuck my finger in a light socket, but gentler. By the wide look of Carson’s eyes, I’m guessing I’m not the only one feeling it. It’s when his pupils start to dilate that I realize we’re just standing here, staring at each other, and holding hands. We haven’t even shaken them. I quickly snatch my hand back and take a step away.
He gives me a frown of displeasure but then seems to shake it off and turns back towards his nephew. “Oliver, you’re not wearing your watch. I told you that you need to wear it all the time.”
“It was tight,” he says in a little voice.
“Then you should have told me and I could have loosened it, but we talked about this. You can’t take it off, understand? Especially when you’re outside.”
Oliver looks upset and that makes my spine straighten. “What’s your problem?” I ask. “It’s just a watch. So the kid forgot it. It’s not like he really needs to tell the time or something.”
He turns his gaze back to me and my body gives a shiver of awareness. Maybe Jenna is right and I really do need to get laid. Fighting with this guy is getting me more turned on than I’ve been in I don’t know how long.
“The problem is that it’s not just a watch, it’s a GPS tracker. There’s no point in having it if he’s not going to wear it?”
“Oh, I get it now. You’re like one of those helicopter parents who needs to know where his kid is every minute of every day. Jesus, let him live a little.”
His eyes flash at me and his teeth clench. Now he really does look pissed. “Is that so? I should let himlive a little? You sit over here in your safe neighborhood and go to your little job and party with your friends without a care. You have no idea what the world is really like. Well, I see it every fucking day. I know that bad things happen to good people. Almost more often thanthey happen to the bad ones. So if wearing a watch lets me find my nephew if something happens to him then, yeah, I’m going to have him wear it every single fucking day.”
I take step backwards to get away from the vitriol in his voice. Okay, I can see why he wants Oliver to wear it. He’s a cop. He’s obviously seen some shit. Too bad for him I’m not one to let things go, especially since he’s now insulting my intelligence and lifestyle. Like I don’t know there are dangers out there. I just choose not to live my life ruled by fear. I’m opening my mouth to rip him a new one when Oliver, who’s been quiet up until this point, decides to speak up. “Uncle Car, you said a bad word.”
A smile immediately appears on my face. Did I say I didn’t like kids? Because I’m liking this one a whole lot right about now. Carson looks up to the sky like he’s asking for some guidance from the great beyond and I hear him mutter, “Fuck,” under his breath.
“You said it again,” If it’s possible my smile widens even further. Yeah, this kid is okay by me.
Carson takes his hand and rubs it across his face like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry, buddy. I owe the jar two dollars.”
“Jar?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He looks over at me and shrugs his shoulders in a way that reminds me of his nephew. “We have a cursing jar. Anytime either one of us curses we have to put a dollar in it.” Yikes. I’ve been told on more than one occasion I curse like a sailor. I consider it a form of self-expression but then again, I’m not a little kid.
“Hmm, Oliver doesn’t strike me as the type that curses.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks a little on his feet.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve been the sole contributor so far. The good news is that by the time he goes to college, I shouldhave enough in the jar to pay for it.” I can’t help but let out a laugh. Not a tiny girly giggle that you put on when you’re trying to make a guy think he’s funny when he’s really not. No this is a full-on belly laugh. I’m picturing him just shoving dollar after dollar into that jar, day after day, and something about that image just sets me off. I’m not sure which I like more, fighting with him or laughing at him.
When I finally calm down, I look over at Carson and his eyes are on me, watching me closely with a little smile on his lips. We’re standing there staring at each other again and I’m not sure what to do about it. Do I look away? Do I shoo him off my property? I’m still thinking when Oliver walks over to me and puts his hand into mine. I’m so taken aback that I almost jerk my hand away but that would probably come off as rude. “Can Bianca come over for dinner tonight?”
Both of us are looking at Oliver with wide eyes. I guess I wouldn’t mind having dinner with them, I mean, I’d like to see more of what Oliver can draw and there’s no denying I’m attracted to Carson. But when I look up at him, the look on his face lets me know he’s going to deny the request.
I hate being rejected. Even if it’s for a stupid dinner invitation I don’t even want with a germ ridden kid and a cop I hate. Before he can say anything, I cut in. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I can’t tonight, I’ve got a lot to do and I’ve got a big day at work tomorrow.”
The kid actually looks disappointed. He frowns and his shoulders sag while he looks at the ground. Now I feel shitty and I honestly don’t know why. I don’t owe this kid anything. He pulls his hand out of mine and walks over to his uncle. I have to resist the urge to snatch his hand back and I wonder briefly if I’m going crazy. Maybe I’m just hungry. That must be it, I haven’t eaten in like… two hours. Okay, so that’s probably not it.
“Maybe some other time, buddy.” Carson says with a soft smile to Oliver who glances back at me.
“Sure.” We both know we’re just saying it for Oliver’s sake. Neither of us has any intention of getting together for dinner or anything else for that matter.
“What have you got there?” It’s then that Carson notices the sketchpad that Oliver has clutched in his little hand.
“Bianca said I could draw in it.”