Page 51 of Can't Get Over You
She’s leaving.
Chapter Eight
He’d knownthis time was coming, yet he wanted her to stay. Not for the boy.
For me.
Because he finally knew what it felt like to touch her, kiss her.
Aw, hell.
But he had to let her go. Both of their lives were too complicated.
When he stepped onto the porch, he found her in a heated conversation with a man he assumed was her fiancé, while Cody made snowballs nearby and hurled them at a tree trunk.
“I messed up, and I’m sorry,” her fiancé said. “But I’m not like you. You need to talk everything out. I had to wrap my head around it before I told you.”
What? That wasn’t how she worked at all. She got quiet and introspective. She had to figure things out on her own first.
“But you did talk, Matt.” Finlay’s tone was calm and rational. “You talked to your ex.”
“Yeah, of course, I did. What other choice did I have? I needed answers. I needed to know why she kept Chloe from me for five years.”
Jude had no business listening in on the conversation, so he headed over to the boy. Jesus, it was cold out there. But the kid didn’t seem to mind. “You ready for that cocoa?”
Cody’s gaze darted to Finlay. “Can Miss O’Neill come?”
“Well, she’s talking to someone right now. But when she’s done, she can.”
“I want to wait.”
Boone peered out from the garage, holding up a box. “Anyone down for a popsicle before we ride bikes?”
“I want one.” After a lingering look at Finlay, the boy trudged over.
“Nice,” Jude said quietly to his brother. “Maybeyoushould adopt him.”
“Oh, hell no. I’m the funcle.”
“The what?”
“The fun uncle.”
After they each grabbed a Fudgsicle—his dad’s favorite—they watched Cody gape at all the big toys.
The large space housed a snowplow, a Ford F-150, his dad’s convertible for nice weather, and a boat for the section of Lake Calamity that sat on his property. Even with all that, it still had plenty of space for Cody to ride.
His dad and Wyatt joined them, grabbing popsicles. The way that little boy stood among the four of them solidified something in Jude. He couldn’t explain it, but he just knew he had to protect this boy. If the judge gave him any shit, he’d get right back in his face and let him know the McKennas would bring him into the fold. Keep him safe. Loved.
I’m not just the only man for the job. I’m the right one.
When Finlay’s voice came closer, he grew distracted. He’d never heard her teach, but he imagined she’d sound just like this—steady, strong, and brooking no argument. He’d have liked to have been in her class.
Though he’d probably have stared at her tits too much. And instead of listening, he’d have imagined skimming his hand up her thigh, under her skirt, his fingertips brushing her bare pussy.
Would she be wet for him if he pulled her into the pantry and touched her?
Desire surged through him hard and fast.
