Page 109 of Ella Gets the D
How—
A deep chuckle vibrates in the former Secret Service agent’s chest. “Part of the job, Ms. Greene, which is why I’m here.” Hesighs. “I saw someone lingering out front. I think it’s best if you two leave through the back. Just to be safe.”
I glance at Julian, who’s staring at the longtime security guard. “Does this happen?”
“Once, after I called it off with Camila,” he says, his fingers digging deeper into the door.
My brows rise. “Lady Prim and Proper is outside playing catch a stalker?” I never searched for Camila online, but from what I’ve heard, activity that requires flats over heels and all black isn’t her style.
Otis snorts, a break from his usually stoic character. “Two bloggers hid in the bushes across the street after spotting this one with a pageant queen, a model, and…what was the other one?” He snaps his finger. “A chemical engineer.”
I pop my head out. “A chemical engineer?”
He nods.
Julian lets out a deep sigh and looks down at the floor. The tip of his shoe scrapes against an imaginary scuff mark. “A very different time. Moving on.” He eyes me. “Where did you park?”
“In the private lot out back.” I got a pass for when I visit.
“Thank you, baby.” He and Otis continue talking, but I can’t hear a word after that velvet “baby.” We could be under siege, caught up in some Jordan Peele situation with aliens and us staring up at the night sky with a collective “Nope,” and I would still be here, staring at this man who’s worried about our safety, with vagina tremors from playing naked Twister on his desk.
I’ve never felt this, these tingles or the freedom to enjoy pleasure without feeling guilty for prioritizing my needs. Ella Greene is a damn good mother who loves tacos and happens to enjoy weekly doses of sex. Safety is also at the top of the list.
“I wouldn’t worry yet. It could be nothing, just someone hoping to catch a glimpse of you,” Otis says to Julian. “I calledLuis at Suegra’s and told him to keep an eye out, and I’ll do another sweep before I walk you two out.”
Julian nods. “Appreciate you, Otis.”
“No problem. I’ll be back up in five.”
A peeper the same week Julian meets with Camila? Maybe it’s nothing, but I don’t like it.
Chapter 41
Ella
“We’re going to be late!”
Small feet stomp to the top of the staircase. “Julian isn’t here yet, Mom. We’re fine!” Annoyance simmers in Jackson’s tone, just enough for me to hear it without it being disrespectful. I’m hovering, but I can’t put away my parental license to helicopter until I know he packed his cleats and ate enough.
Baseball was easy. Hit the ball, run the bases, and make it home. No one chases you down, and the odds of you ending up at the bottom of a human pile are slim to none. I’m not opposed to Jackson playing rugby, but Julian gives me a heart attack at his games. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ended up in the ER with broken bones, stitches, or a concussion.Imight need medical attention by the end of the day.
The skillet sirens with a loud pop. “Shit.” I flip over the layer of egg and lower the heat.
“Still freaking out?” Haile hops down the steps with a knowing grin. My daughter turned five last month and wastes no opportunity to remind me I’m overreacting. Her soft curlsbounce in purple barrette pigtails on her way to the kitchen island. She pulls herself onto a barstool and folds her hands on the marble counter.
I clear my throat and turn back to the stove, unwilling to allow a preschooler in a lilac unicorns and pizza tee to read me to filth before nine a.m. “I’m fine, Haile. Eggs?” I snort at her tiny hand cupping her face. “Do you want eggs or not?”
A series of taps on the patio door pulls my focus. I turn and freeze, all thoughts crashing into the sculpted chest cloaked in blue and white. Track suits aren’t anything out of the ordinary, but the way the material molds to Julian’s body is a sight that never gets old.
“Hi.” My jerky welcome sparks a relaxed smile.
“Hi, sweetheart.” The words lull me into stillness. Julian’s presence has a way of soothing my nerves while riling up the sexual appetite we resurrected months ago.
Eggs.
Shit.
“Come in.” I rush back to the abandoned skillet with a silent prayer that breakfast isn’t a casualty of the dick magic that left me dumb and speechless at the door.
