Page 44 of A Whole New Play

“Will it?”

I run a tired hand down my face. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

Valerie’s voice gentles when she says, “I wouldn’t worry about what the public says, Carter. Anyone who sees you with the twins will know you’re a great dad, and I’m sure your lawyer plans to show that.”

“Thanks.” I clear the emotion from my throat. I didn’t realize how nice it would be to hear that from someone who isn’t a family member or a close friend. “What about you? How was brunch today?”

Her expression dims. “It was exactly what I expected.”

Knowing what little I do about her mother, that’s not a good thing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She waves a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Even so, I’m still sorry.” Kids don’t ask to be born. It’s a parent’s job to love and protect them, not burden them with their expectations and criticisms. I hate knowing Valerie’s mom is so hard on her.

“Thank you,” she replies. “At least I have my dad. He’s always got my back.”

“Good.” I always knew Coach Palmer was a stand-up guy. “I’m glad.”

The conversation fades into silence that isn’t uncomfortable, but it provides the natural opportunity for Valerie to make her escape.

She looks around the room. “Well, it’s getting late. I should be going.”

My response is delayed. “Okay.”

She nods and moves into the kitchen. I inhale the scent of her shampoo as she walks past. It reminds me of salt air and sticky skin—of frantic kisses and her toned legs wrapped around my waist.

I try to shove down the lustful thoughts, but it doesn’t work. Especially not when I see Valerie bend over and slip her feet into her high heels.

She’s sexy as hell, and my brain refuses to ignore it.

“You should take a picture. It will last longer.”

I blink. My eyes shift up to find Valerie smirking at me as she straightens and slings her purse over her shoulder.

Instead of being embarrassed, I say, “That statement is a little old school for you, don’t you think?”

“You would know. You probably had that quote posted somewhere on your Myspace.”

I bark a laugh. “Myspace? How old do you think I am?”

She looks me up and down, “Old enough that you probably had one of Taylor Swift’s country songs on your profile page.”

A low chuckle escapes my throat. “You should be careful with that smart mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Or what?” She taunts with a seductive note. “What are you going to do if I don’t?”

Sexual tension ripples in the air. Goosebumps pepper my arms and my dick hardens as dozens of possibilities race through my head.

Is she flirting with me?

From the little smirk curving her lips, I think she is.

My voice deepens in a growl, “Or I’ll be forced to teach you a lesson.”

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