Page 58 of The Homemaker
When I return, he’s dressed and sitting on the edge of the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands.
I stare at him for a few seconds before climbing over the sofa and hugging his back. “Callen, will you go steady with me?” I kiss his neck.
“Don’t. You make me sound insecure. And I don’t want this.” He shakes his head. “Or at least, I didn’t want this. Fuck, I don’t know. You’re giving me exactly what I thought I wanted, and now I’m acting like a goddamn pussy about it.”
I laugh before trapping his earlobe between my teeth.
“Let’s stick to lover or mistress,” he says.
“Mistress?” I crane my neck to look at him. “Can I be your mistress if you’re not married?”
He twists his lips to the side. “I think so. Basically, you’re my secret girlfriend. We sneak around and have sex. It feels naughty.”
“So we’ve decided to continue doing exactly what we have been doing?”
Callen returns a guilty smile. “Something like that.”
“Wanna go for a swim?”
He angles toward me, pulling me onto his lap. “Is that allowed?”
“They’ve gone to dinner and then a show. So they won’t be home until at least eleven, if not midnight. I’m allowed to use the pool.”
“Skinny dipping?” He lifts an eyebrow.
“I’m going to say no since there are several two-story houses with views of the pool.”
“And you’re opposed to public indecency?”
I think of Rosie watching Murphy and me having sex on the dining room table through the faux wood Venetian blinds.
“No,” I say. “But since my job is tied to it, I think we should play it safe and wear suits.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
“You can wear your briefs. That’s sufficient.” I slide off his lap and offer my hand. “Come on, lover.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Murphy
If you can’t be happy with what you have,
be happy for those who have what you want.
“I can’t believewe missed the show,” Blair says.
Vera glances back at us as Hunter pulls his Rolls Royce into the underground garage. “I’m sorry. I thought I purchased tickets for tonight.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “We’ll go next month on the actual date.”
“I have menopause brain. That has to be why I messed up the date,” Vera says with a long sigh.
“We can go for a swim.” Blair squeezes my leg. “Or sit in the hot tub.”
“You two have at it. I’m tired. The stress of messing up the show date just makes me want to crawl into bed.” Vera yawns.
We head upstairs to change into our suits, and just as we step onto the veranda overlooking the pool, Blair grabs my wrist, nodding in front of us at the pool.
