Page 96 of The Art of Being Merry
“No, probably not. Good thing you’ll have time to stop at home and change. But will that raise questions for your parents or my kids?”
“They won’t even know I’m there.” My brain works through the scenario of how that’s possible, but it’s too much effort. If he’s caught, it’s on him. “Why don’t we shower, I’ll run home to change, and come back to pick you up? This way, if you need more time to get ready, you’ll have it.”
“Sounds good.”
29
dax
Today feels like a dream,one I don’t want to wake up from.
Getting this one-on-one, uninterrupted time with Clementine, painting each other, having sex—though I somehow missed out on the blow job she promised me—is heaven. I love watching her in her element but also not worried about being a mom. She’s free to be a woman, wild and reckless. I love when she comes undone, knowing I’m the reason for her pleasure. It feeds my ego watching women come, but none so much as Clementine. Seeing her succumb to an orgasm is a high, one I didn’t know was missing from my life. Now that I know, I’m not sure I can give it up. Forget about it. Never experience it again.
After I fix the hinge and we shower together, I throw on my dirty clothes and head home, leaving Clementine to clean up our arting mess. I enter through the door by the garage to thwart interrogation if someone from upstairs spots me, quickly change into a more appropriate outfit for our date, and am out the door in less than five minutes. We don’t have an endless amount of time, and I don’t want to rush dinner.
The entire trip takes twenty minutes at most, and when I return to Clementine’s house, she’s on the porch waiting for me. She’s changed into jeans, but her coat hides her top. Her hair haswaves in it, a look I’ve yet to see. She’s dazzling, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to call her mine.
If only for this one dinner.
My elation sinks with the thought. Am I prepared to go all in with her? To be out in public so people know we’re together rather than two adults sharing a meal? To tell my family? I can’t predict their reactions, but I’m sure they’d have some words.
Mainly Beck. And his words wouldn’t all be positive.
Not that he’s warned me not to get with her. Honestly, he probably figures I didn’t need to be warned since in his mind, there’s no way she’d be on my radar.
Clementine traipses the steps and climbs into the passenger seat of my truck. “Your hair looks amazing,” I compliment as soon as the door is open.
She smiles, fully accepting it. “Thanks. Wasn’t sure I’d have time to do it, but I did.” She buckles into the seat, and a ringing phone interrupts our conversation. It must be hers since mine is on silent. “Let me check it’s not your mom.” Her expression sours as she scans the screen. “It’s Willa.”
“You can answer it.”
“Hey.” Willa’s voice fills the cab. Guess I’m a part of this conversation.
“What’s up?”
“Heard you’re kid-free and wanted to see if you were interested in going to Sweetgrass Grill.”
I stifle my chuckle at the unlikely choice of restaurants.
“With you?” Clementine hedges.
“And Beckett.”
“You want me to join you as the third wheel on a date with your husband.” I can’t decipher the emotion filling her high-pitched tone. Would she rather join them and forgo our date? Why does that idea bother me so much?
“Bethany said you were with Dax. Figured the four of us could have a nice dinner together while the boys were entertained.”
“Like a double date?” Her breathing picks up. Is she not ready to confess we’re trying for more? Does she want to keep it a secret?
“Like four adults eating a yummy meal together. Jeez, what’s the obsession with dating?”
“What time were you thinking? So I can make sure Dax is on board, too.”
I snort, and Clementine shoots daggers my way.
“We could go soon. I’m not sure if we need a reservation. I’ll check with Beckett.”
Oh shit. I hadn’t considered needing a reservation. I suppose if they don’t have a table for us, we’ll sit at the bar.
