Page 80 of Stuck With You
I raise my eyebrows. “Do you cook like you bake cookies?”
“Oh, good grief.” She tosses a piece of dry pancake at me, and it bounces off my chest. “I guess you just have to wait and see.”
It sounds a bit like a challenge. I’m beginning to think I’ll just have to wait and see about a wholelot of things.
Chapter 18
SARAH
I watch Slade help Ollie up the rock wall as I push Frankie in the swing. The air has a bite to it, and the ends of my fingers ache.
“Put your foot here.” Slade guides his foot to a plastic rock, standing behind him in case he falls. “Now, reach for the next one. You got it, partner.”
Ollie reaches and pulls himself up and over the side.
He grins from the top. “C-can we do it again?”
Slade nods, and Ollie runs, shoots down the slide, and comes back around.
I smile at Frankie’s chubby face sticking out from underneath her fuzzy hat, but my heart aches. This is what Ollie craves and what I’m deeply afraid he will never have.
Slade spent yesterday evening explaining to Ollie how planes work. And when I found them in the kitchen this morning, I heard the two of them talking and pouring pancakes. Slade is so gentle with him and patient when it takes Ollie time to get his words out.
This is what I wish for my son. A male figure to laugh with and learn from. Not one who is only around when it’s convenient or uses them as a bargaining chip.
I push Frankie a little higher, and she giggles. “Does that tickle your tummy?”
She grins, showing off her tiny teeth.
Slade glances over, his eyes meeting mine, and I smile. He doesn’t. He just. . .stares back. That scowly gaze makes my smile grow wider.
I have no idea what to think of this man. One minute, he’s stiff and hard, completely closed off, and then the next, he’s soft and gentle and says something that makes me know he runs deep.
The way he looks at me sometimes makes me fidgety. It’s like he sees all the messy pieces of me I want to hide while I’m trying to sort out who I am now. So, my mouth takes over to defuse the uncomfortableness of him actually seeing too much.
When he woke me last night, I wanted to kill him for scaring me, but also hug him tight because it was just him, and somehow, I know he’s safe. I shouldn’t. My track record should strip all rights to judge a person’s character, but it was Slade—the guy who’s still here, telling me it will be ok.
I fell into him, and oh man, it shouldn’t have felt as nice as it did. Those seconds with his strong hands and muscular arms holding me steady were the safest I’ve felt in a really long time. Maybe ever. I thought if I could stay there and hold on tight, maybe everything closing in on me would get tired and disappear.
But I couldn’t, so I did what I do. I gave him shit. And he did what he does. Find me entirely unamusing. All six-foot-five-ish inches of him just stood there wholly unaffected. That was until I dared to take a gander at his arms.
The muscled man stood in front of me in a tight white T-shirt, sweats hanging low on his hips, with all that black ink on display. I’ve been curious about those tattoos since the day he climbed into my car because it’s not just one. It’s one woven into another and another as if it’s a tapestry. A story unfolding. Maybe his story and my mind craves every single detail.
I may have also wanted to know how far they extend. Over his shoulders and chest, or just the sleeves? But after he accused me of ogling, I didn’t feel it was appropriate to ask. I also have absolutely no business wondering what lies underneath my neighbor’s shirt.
“Do I, Love Bug?” I lean down and pull the swing to my chest to kiss her.
“Do you what?” Slade strolls toward me through the mulch.
“Oh, nothing. Just a little girl talk and figuring out what to make for dinner.”
He pushes a swing out of the way and stops beside me, but those green eyes fall to me, knowing I’m full of it. His gaze shifts to watch Ollie.
Frankie babbles from the bucket seat, swinging back and forth.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“He’s a good kid.”
