Page 15 of The Spice Play

Countless times, I’d pulled up her name on my phone. Countless times, I’d written out a text to send her beforedeleting it. I’d imagined the way her mouth had popped open in a perfect O as I slid my fingers into her, imagined what it would have felt like if I’d replaced those fingers with something far more destructive. I’d thought about her soft, heavy breasts, thought about her wide hips and little waist, thought about the little crease just beneath her ribcage, her tanned skin, her plump lips.

She’d wormed her way into my brain. And I knew within seconds of her agreeing to take me home that I couldn’t go further than satisfying her and her alone — I’d find myself in far too deep, and I’d sink like a stone.

I wasn’t celibate. I’d slept with a handful of people since the divorce was finalized. But none of them had struck me the same way she had so quickly, and I knew myself well enough to know that I couldn’t cross that line with her. Not when I knew I could get attached, and not after what had happened with Taryn.

It didn’t matter if I found out down the line that she was the best person I could have asked for and never did a thing wrong. I didn’t know that now, and I couldn’t give myself the opportunity to, for my own wellbeing and especially for Matty’s. He’d already lost a mother figure, and I wasn’t going to ever put him through that again.

Ididn’t want to ever go through that again.

But if this worked, if she was the nanny to end all nannies and could get the job done like Coach had claimed the people working for Rosie Justice could, I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do. She’d be around me constantly.

The doors of the school opened, and children started pouring out, the cars in front of me roaring back to life one by one. The moment I saw a little headof brown hair and a Spiderman backpack, I knew what I needed to do.

I had to compartmentalize and put the idea of Nelly into a neat little box, tucking it away in the deep recesses of my mind where I couldn’t touch it. Just like I’d done with Taryn.

I could do that.

Chapter 7

Nelly

Sebastian’s home was… large. Just like him.

My truck idled in the long driveway, his white house taking up almost the entirety of my view from the windshield. It was Southern-inspired but modern, all angular with a flat roof and harsh sides, but complete with wood shutters on the outsides of the windows that likely doubled as hurricane protection. Manicured hedges lined the sides of the home, with a pristinely laid cement walkway leading straight to the front door. An all-black convertible sports car sat beside my out-of-place truck in the driveway, and I had a brief recollection of seeing it parked in one of the front spots at Peach Arena.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Sebastian:You planning to just sit in that heap of junk all afternoon? You’ll cook yourself alive.

I scowled at his message. My truck might be a heap of junk, but it wasmyheap of junk, and no one else was allowed to think that. Even if it was unreasonable.

Me:Don’t insult my truck.

Sebastian:Drive something nicer, then.

Cursinghim, I shoved the door open and hopped out of the truck, nearly catching the cuff of my jeans on the broken bit of plastic that used to be a step beneath the door. I slammed it shut and walked up the fancy concrete path, spotting a little handprint baked into the corner of one of the slabs along with a poorly writtenMattybeside it, and for a moment, the cuteness of that was enough to cut through the irritation.

Just for a moment.

The door opened before I could knock. Sebastian stood there, the stubble from earlier gone, fully clean and wearing a pair of black joggers and a white shirt that hugged the muscles of his arms. “If my truck is an eye-sore for you, you could buy me something different,” I said by way of greeting. “You clearly can afford to.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, motioning for me to come in. “Believe me, I’m already tempting. I couldhearyou coming down the road. Exhaust pipe fall off?”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, crossing the threshold into his immaculately clean and decorated house. Stained wood flooring ran throughout, with dark grey painted walls curving around every corner. At first glance, I’d have no idea that a child lived here, but the longer I stared, the more evidence I found. A handful of childish drawings were stuck to the fridge in the kitchen at the other end of the foyer, a single plastic building brick was sticking out of a plant pot, and the unmistakable sound of cartoons slowly filtered into my ears.

“Matty! Nelly’s here!” He shut the door behind me with a soft click.

“You sure you want me to do this?” I offered, eying him warily as he stepped around me. “I can still leave before he sees me.”

“No point,” he said. “Pretty sure he’d hear your truck leave.”

The temptation to grind my teeth struck me just before a boy, who was no more than four feet tall, poked his head around the corner.

He looked like a miniature version of his dad.

Brown wavy hair, just a little bit longer than Sebastian’s, fell around the apples of his cheeks. Bright blue eyes watched me warily, a hint of curiosity twinkling in them. His skin was a touch paler than his father’s, but he had the same build, the same long torso and legs. He was slightly taller than I’d expect for a five-year-old, but then his dad must have been somewhere north of six feet, so it wasn’t surprising.

“Hi, Matty,” I beamed, giving him a small wave. I wouldn’t approach him — that wasn’t how I rolled. I wanted to wait until he felt comfortable enough to come to me to bridge that gap. “I’m Nelly.”

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