Page 21 of Take Me, Sir

Kyndall

First, I cleaned up the mess Anthony had made while he watched from the safety of his playpen. Fortunately, he seemed to be fascinated with what I was doing and didn't cry. Or he could've just been on a bit of a sugar high. Either way, I was grateful that he wasn't crying.

I looked over the list of instructions Juliette had left next. Her mother had given me a list twice as long when I'd watched Anthony before, and I wondered if it was because Mrs. Breckenridge had gone overboard, or because Juliette knew me better. It was probably something in between.

The next couple hours were busy as I got Anthony fed, changed, bathed, and then got him put to bed. It was tiring but satisfying in a way that was different from anything else I'd done. I wasn't ready to have one of my own, not yet, but as I settled back down on the couch, I realized I could see a future with kids in it.

That hadn't always been the case. One of the things about doing so much at a young age, I always felt like I had to keep up with the people I considered my peers, even though they were older than me. Relationships, however, had been the one place where I hadn't needed to worry. Women who went to graduate school could focus on work and not be expected to get married and have kids right away. So I'd never really let myself think about it in anything more than the vaguest of ideas. The fact that I hadn't had any serious relationships made it easy.

Now, I was starting to think that a family might be something I wanted.

I sighed as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. There were two problems with thinking that way.

One, my current employment didn't exactly scream “mother of the year.”

Two, Dean.

I wasn't in a serious relationship with anyone, and I wanted to be before I started thinking kids. I didn't have anything against single moms, and if I had to be one, I would, but it wasn't the path I preferred to take. I was pretty sure Dean wasn't the sort of guy who wanted anything serious, and that was okay because I hadn't slept with him with that in mind. I'd only wanted sex. But now, I couldn't stop thinking about him, which meant I wasn't open to meeting anyone else.

I needed to get him out of my head, but the thrumming in my body at just the thought of him said it wouldn’t be as easy as I hoped. I hadn't had any expectations when I'd brought him to my apartment. Nothing apart from orgasms anyway. I'd had other one-night stands or casual flings that lasted a week or two, and my time with Dean should've been the same.

So why couldn't I stop thinking about him? Why could I still feel his hands on my body? That'd never happened to me before. Even when I'd masturbated, my fantasies had been about anonymous men whose faces I never focused on. Since sleeping with Dean, he was the only person I could see when I closed my eyes. And it wasn't only his body I saw, or even his face. I couldn't stop myself from seeing his eyes. The way they'd darkened when he'd looked at me, the heat and desire that he didn't even try to hide.

I sighed, mentally cursing myself for having slept with Dean in the first place. I should've just gone back to the hotel after the wedding, gotten a good night's sleep, and then dealt with my parents the next morning. It wasn't like LA was devoid of hot guys who'd be willing to have sex with no strings attached. I could've gone out at any other point and found someone.

But I hadn't, and there wasn't really a point in wishing that things had been different. It wouldn't change anything. All I could do was move forward from here.

I'd go out this weekend, I decided. Do some exploring. If I was going to make this place home, I needed to do more than go to clubs for dancing, drinking, sex, and the occasional poker game.

Maybe I'd talk to Juliette about asking Hanna if the two of them wanted to come. I'd always been a bit of a loner, mostly because of my age, and the thought of having two women I could talk to was appealing. Even though they were both married and had kids, I'd gotten the impression that we'd have other things in common, including the fact that they didn't seem to surround themselves with tons of people.

I was finished with school, had my own place in a city where I wanted to settle down. It was time to start building a life here. Not something that I could pick up and leave without much thought like I had with Cambridge. Now that I had all of my things here, I didn't really miss it. No, I wanted to build something real here. The kind of thing that Dalton had with Juliette. Something real and lasting.

I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and massaged my sore scalp. A knot of anxiety and anticipation coiled in my stomach. I'd spent so much time thinking about when I'd be on my own, when I'd have a life I could control, that I hadn't given much thought to what I was actually going to do when I got there.

I heard someone at the door and turned toward it, frowning as I heard Juliette's and Dalton's raised voices before they stepped inside.

“And I'm telling you, Dalton, that you're out of line, no matter how noble your intentions may be.”

Juliette's normally pleasant voice was tense, and I got to my feet, wondering if I should duck back into the hallway and wait for them to either call for me or come back to Anthony's room. I wasn't foolish enough to think that because I'd never heard them argue that they didn't, but it didn't make things any less awkward.

“Kyndall!” Dalton practically shouted my name and my head jerked up.

“Dalton, keep your voice down,” Juliette snapped. “Anthony's sleeping.”

I was glad she'd remembered because I was too shocked by the way my brother was glowering at me to remember much of anything at the moment. Dalton crossed the few feet between us in several angry strides and looked down at me like he had that time when we were kids, and he'd caught me pulling his Playboys out from under his mattress.

I frowned. Had Anthony made a mess I hadn't seen? That had to be it because there wasn't anything else Dalton could be so pissed about. Unless...the thought hit me suddenly. Dean. Shit.

“You had sex with Dean Stokes?”

“Leave it alone, Dalton,” Juliette hissed.

“Why?” He didn't look at her. “Dean said if I wanted to know what happened, then I should ask her.”

“You saw Dean?” I tried to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat at his name. Nothing good would come of that.

“That's not what he said, Dalton, and you know it.” Juliette's arms were folded across her chest, every line of her body tense. “He said that if Kyndall wanted you to know what happened between them, she'd tell you.”

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