Page 31 of Long Road Home

I could take him easily. Hell, I could shove up my palm and push him back to the porch with barely any effort.

“Who’s at the——Paul?” Destiny’s voice coming from behind me, shocked and sweet and sultry from sleep. Damn it. All my hormones misfired. “Hey…what are you doing here?”

He was still on the porch and Destiny paused for a minute and stepped up beside me. Her face had paled like it’d taken her that long to register exactly what was happening.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said quickly.

Her hand went to my arm. Mistake.

It was the first time she touched me in ten years. The heat from her hand must have burned her like it did my own flesh because she jerked back, scowling at me.

I stepped back at the silent but angry look. Probably not the time to think it was cute as hell, too.

“What exactly is this then?” Paul asked. I fought against slamming my fist to his face. Far as Destiny said, they were over, which meant he had no right to be pissed about anything.

Destiny stepped in front of me, waving him in and effectively pushing me back. “Come in, come in. I’ll explain. Coffee? Did you drive here? All night? Fly? I’m sorry, I’m surprised.”

“Yeah.” His eyes cut to me and narrowed. “I bet you are.”

Fucker. He might have had three years with her, but if they were over, I was putting an end to him being an asshole real quick. Ironic considering how much of a dick I’d been to her myself in the last day.

I waited until he stepped in before I slammed the door behind him. The door barely missed smacking him on the shoulder as it closed.

I grinned. “I’ll go get dressed.”

“Maybe you should too, Janey.” That came from Paul, but my eyes went to Destiny.

Fucking Janey. That name would never be her. I hated that he had that, too. But my attention snagged on her legs, moved up to her ass that was barely concealed by a silk looking black nightie. She whipped a robe around her, light pink and lacy but I was stuck on that ass, the sway of her breasts as she turned. The whip of her blonde hair. It was the first time I’d seen it down, all flowy, longer than it’d been ten years ago with highlights or some shit. Better.

It was definitely better. All of her was.

“I get why you’re mad,” she said to Paul, but her cheeks had pinkened, telling me she caught me checking her out and liking what I was seeing. I needed to get hung up on Des like I needed to blow out my other knee. “But you really have the wrong idea. And if you give me a minute to explain—”

“Paul?”

As if this situation couldn’t get worse. All of our heads swung in the direction of the stairs. Toby bounded down them, black hair bouncing all over the place. He hurried to Paul and threw his arms around him.

“Hey squirt,” Paul said, and all that anger in him evaporated as he squeezed my boy. “How you doin’?”

“I’m great!” Toby said and turned. As he caught sight of me, his smile went slack. “Um. Oh. I’m good, Paul.”

He stepped out of the hug I knew he’d had dozens of over the years. And that shit stung like a bitch. I’d barely touched my boy, and he loved this man. Which meant I really couldn’t be a dick to him.

I looked at Destiny who had gone pale and silent and back to Toby. “Hey, buddy. How about you and I go grab some breakfast and we let your mom and Paul talk?”

“Who are you?” Paul asked, that glare of his firmly re-fixed in place. Too bad for him I’d had years of glaring down the competition.

“This is Jordan,” Toby said.

Paul’s entire body jerked with the force of that statement. “Jordan….” His gaze dipped to Toby who suddenly looked uncertain and finally, fucking finally, Destiny came unglued.

“Please Paul,” she choked out. “Please come into the kitchen so we can talk.”

I caught her attention as she walked by me. “I’ll run him to Down Home and grab some breakfast pizzas, have him back here in thirty or forty-five minutes depending on how busy they are.” And because I couldn’t stop myself from being a dick, I asked, “You still prefer bacon over sausage?”

Her eyes widened. Those pink cheeks of hers burned hot. She liked that I remembered. Or she wanted to slam a pie into my face. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks,” she mumbled as she walked, rushing to the kitchen.

Paul, who was no longer glaring at me, but looking like one sad, kicked in the gut puppy, glanced between Toby and me. “Jordan,” he said, whispered it more to himself than me. “Shit.” Which meant this man wasn’t dumb.

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