Page 111 of Average Joe

I came on his face, my fingers in his scalp, my voice hoarse, body sated, and when I fell limp against the shower wall, he washed my hair, then my body, whispering dirty words and working me into a lather.

He dried me off, combed my hair, and led me to bed, where he loved my body with lips and tongue and finally that magnificent cock. We fell asleep, limbs tangled. I woke to the smell of coffee, Ginger curled in a ball against my left side, and Bruce on his back with all four legs in the air.

What a turn my life had taken.

I found Joe in the kitchen, running pants hung low on his waist, and he wore no shirt. His bare feet looked prettier than ever, and bedhead only made him more appealing. But that smile aimed my direction? Woke places in me that had too long lain dormant. The only other grin that affected me soul deep was Dylan’s.

Joe wrapped me in a warm embrace and kissed my head. “Morning.”

Heaven help me, he smelled like a rainy afternoon and the promise of snuggles.

“Morning,” I mumbled against his chest, clinging tight. “Thank you for last night, but I need to get home, find Dylan. Make sure he’s okay.”

“Frank’s already on it.”

“What?”

“I spoke with him after you fell asleep.”

“No. No cops, Joe.” I moved backward, bumping into the table. “Maybe Dylan hasn’t done anything illegal yet. I need to talk to him first.”

I was a mess.

But Joe was cool as an iced Americano. “Do you know where to start looking?”

“No,” I lied. If Dylan were involved with Harper, my father was involved, and that was a mountain I needed to scale solo.

“Frank has the means to find him. That’s all he’s doing,” he assured me.

“I get that Frank is your friend,” I argued, “but he’s a cop first, and if my son is involved in criminal activity, he’ll do what cops do.”

“Calm down.” Joe laughed. “Frank knows the score.”

“I don’t want Frank to know the score,” I squealed. “I don’t want him involved. I don’t want anyone involved. It’s my messy life, and I choose who to share my shit with. You had no right to get him involved!”

Like we were having a normal conversation, Joe turned to the coffee pot. “I have the means to help. Let me help.”

“I would have called the cops last night if I’d wanted them involved,” I said to his back. “I don’t.”

“I get that.” Joe turned to face me, butt against the counter, fingers gripping the edge. “But we have a chance to help your kid, and Frank’s our best bet.”

We.My heart sputtered. My fight drained.We.A powerful punch to the gut. I loved that man. I did. In his mind, we were a couple. In his mind, I was his to protect. Joe and Marley, and man, oh man, I loved the wordwe.

But I needed to file those feelings away for later.

Rising high on my toes, I kissed the stubble on his jaw. “I sure do like being your fuck buddy, Joe Kaine, and tonight, it’s my turn to make you dinner. But right now, I have to go. I have to find my son before he gets arrested or before Harper follows through on his threat.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No,” I said on my way to the door. “Absolutely not.”

“Um. You don’t get a choice in the matter.”

Exit plan aborted, I turned around. “Excuse me?”

“Harper is a grade-A piece of shit. You’re not dealing with him alone.”

“That’s sweet. Really. But I’m not an idiot.” I studied the rooster clock over his shoulder. Eye contact would be detrimental to my resolve. “I’m not going anywhere near Johan Harper. I’m going to call around to the parents of Dylan’s friends. I’m going to bribe people if necessary for phone numbers. I’m going to harass anyone who might still be in contact with my boy until someone gives me a damn address.”

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