Page 13 of What About Us
“Absolutely,” she says, while puling open the bag and rooting around for pajamas.
“I could use a shower, if that’s ok?” I say, stretching.
“Of course. You don’t have to ask to shower, weirdo,” she says over her shoulder.
I run a hand through my hair. “Right.” I nod. “Ok, then. Night, Pipsqueak. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you.” I bend and press a kiss to her forehead, and she wraps her arms around my middle, giving me a short squeeze.
“Night, Daddy,” she says.
“Clean towels are in the linen closet,” Finn calls out, while helping Paige pull aMoananightie over her head.
“Ok, thanks,” I say and head for the shower.
Chapter 5
Hudson
Thirty minutes later, I’mbarefoot and dressed in clean flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. I’m rummaging through Finn’s fridge, when she comes downstairs.
“Beer?” I ask as I clamp the slice of pizza I’m holding between my teeth and turn toward her, shutting the fridge.
“Sure,” she says and leans her forearms on the counter next to the open pizza box. She takes a pepperoni and pops it into her mouth, while I crack the cap off her beer and hand it to her.
She clinks it against my bottle while she chews. “She’s out like a light. Didn’t even make it to the part about the pirates,” she says around another pepperoni.
I nod and swallow down three big gulps of beer. Shit, that’s good after a long day of driving.
“She’s exhausted. I swear, we’ve played a hundred rounds of I spy over the last three days. If I never hear ‘I spy something…’ever again, it’ll be too fucking soon.” I’m griping about it, but I would play that game until my lips fell off if it made my little girl happy.
Finn knows it, too, because she has a gleam in her eye that tells me she knows I’m full of shit.
“You wanna crash?” She looks hopeful I’ll say no. So, I shrug.
“I’m ok for a bit. What’s up?”
“Good. Come on.” She laughs with a tilt of her head toward the patio doors. “Got something for you.”
I grab another slice of pizza, shoving the crust of my first piece into my mouth, and follow her to the sliding glass door that leads out to the little concrete pad just outside. There’s the same small, wicker-style coffee table and loveseat with striped cushions and a small BBQ grill that she’s had since she moved in. She steps outside and takes one end of the loveseat, motioning for me to sit next to her.
I shut the door behind me and look around for whatever she got me. “You got me a small concrete patio? Jameson, you shouldn’t have.”
“Sit down and shut up, jackass.” She grabs my sleeve and pulls me down next to her, so our shoulders are touching. Then, she tucks her feet underneath her, sitting crisscross.
I take another bite of pizza and a swig of my beer, then look over at her expectantly in the semi-darkness. It’s work to pull my gaze back to her face after it snags on her freshly painted toenails. I love that black polish she always wears. The same shade is on her short fingernails. Why is that so sexy? She’s a smartass, little firecracker with a bit of an emo edge, and it 100 percent works for me. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve pictured her hand and those black tipped fingers wrapped around my cock. I clear my throat and force out a steadying breath.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a lighter and small tin. Flipping up the lid, she takes out one tightly rolled joint from a row of five, and a sly smile spreads across her face. My own smile crawls across my face when she puts one end between her lips and flicks her cheap Bic a few times beforeit sparks to life. I swear to God, every move she makes gets me hard. Once it’s lit, she inhales deeply, her eyes falling closed.
“You got that for me, huh?” I chuckle with a tip of my chin toward her hand and wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs.
She cracks open an eye and holds her breath, before letting the smoke waft out of her mouth and nose. Her lips tip up at the corners.
“Well, yeah…kind of.” She leans over to drop the lighter on the table, then passes me the joint. “You need to relax.” She smirks. “And it’s Friday. So, we’re getting you high today…tonight.” She scrunches up her face in thought, then waves a dismissive hand. “Whatever. You don’t have a job, and you ain’t got shit to do.”
I huff out a laugh when she completely butchers Chris Tucker’s line from the movieFriday. Pressing the joint between my finger and thumb, I pull in a lungful of smoke, the cherry ember glowing bright in the darkness of the patio.
We used to smoke together all the time after high school. We’d drive out to the middle of nowhere and share a joint and a bottle of Boone’s Farm we stole from her mama’s fridge. We’d laugh until our sides hurt, with DMX, Ludacris, and cricket songs as the backdrop. Then, Finn would get sappy, and she’d ask me to dance to George Strait or Tim McGraw in the glow of the headlights. Hours later, we’d be sober enough to drive. God, those were fun nights.
I glance quickly at the glass door, hoping Paige is still asleep, before putting it to my lips and taking another long drag. I hold it for a few seconds before exhaling and taking another.
