Interference (12 page)

“I've been coming in here with a kid on my hip talking about my job for three years.” I scooped another heap of spinach onto my fork. “Everyone thinks I'm older than I am.”

“I thought small towns were big on the gossip.”

“You really think the rednecks around here care about underage drinking unless someone took their combine out for a drunken spin and crashed it?”

That made Jason choke, literally choke, on his food. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his fist as he coughed uncontrollably.

“Are you okay?” I asked, jumping up to slap his back.

He coughed a few more times, but opened his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm good.”

“Sorry.” Grazing his cheek felt like the right thing to do, but I stopped myself and returned to my seat.

“Your humor caught me off guard.”

“Humor?” I deadpanned.

Jason laughed, but it quickly turned into another cough. “I'm okay. I promise,” he assured me before taking a sip of water.

“All joking aside, once you have a kid, everything should become legal,” I continued. “I mean, I'm not old enough to drink a beer, but I'm old enough to raise a frickin' kid?”

“Yeah, I've seen a lot of people who shouldn't have kids. But they do.” His bright eyes grew cloudy as he set his water down and grabbed his beer. He took a long sip, draining half the glass in one pull. “It takes a very strong person to make the decisions you've made. And a strong mom to hold it together by yourself.”

“I have a lot of help. Damien has been like a surrogate dad. He's only seventeen and it's like he's had a kid for three years. I feel bad for putting that on him.”

“Damien is remarkably mature for his age,” Jason said. “Sometimes.”

Which made me feel even worse as I began to fully comprehend the effects of my teenage stupidity. I'd robbed my brother of his high school years.

As if he could tell what I was thinking, Jason continued. “He talks about Holden like he's his brother. Just think, if your mom had a baby three years ago, he'd be doing the same thing.”

“I never thought of it that way.” I made a face. “Because, ew.”

“It was just a scenario,” Jason added quickly. “I've never looked at your mom that way. I'm not trying to jump her or anything.”

“You trying to jump me?” I asked, sliding my toe up and down the length of his shin underneath the table.

I've wanted to jump him from the first time I saw him. Well, maybe not that first moment at the rink, but definitely since he pulled me over. Angry sex probably wouldn't have been a promising way to start off a relationship, though.

“I'm not trying, I'm just…” Jason straightened up in his seat and looked around, lost for words.

“What's wrong?” I asked, unable to help myself. Flirting with him made me feel sexy and alive. Like a woman, not just a mother.

“I'm thinking we get the check and head to my place?” Jason said, instead of playing along with my coy flirting.

“I just need to use the restroom first.” I pushed back from the table and hurried to the ladies' room, where I washed my hands and looked in the mirror.

Was I prepared to act on the feelings I had for Jason? Obviously, I knew the complications of having sex. Not just pregnancy, but a guy who might leave me without a second thought to focus on his own dreams. A guy so wrapped up in himself and his conquests that he couldn't care less about the consequences of his actions.

This time I was smarter. Older. Had experience to guide my decisions. It wasn't about peer pressure or teenage hormones.

Though my twenty-year-old hormones had kicked in the minute I saw Jason.

I shuffled the things in my purse around, making sure I packed it with everything I might need. While Damien had been at school, I'd raided his nightstand for condoms and snagged a few, sealing my status as most horrible sister ever.

But I'd been running late and I didn't have time to stop at a store before work. Nor did I want to give the nosy cashiers at the local CVS a chance to snicker and gossip about my XL condom purchase.

Having a younger brother came in handy, though I knew I'd have to come clean about stealing from him. And also hit him with another “Don't be a dumb-ass like me” talk. I'd have to talk to him about it, since I knew Mom never would. Come clean and hit the birds and the bees all in one super-embarrassing conversation.

The stolen condoms prepared me for any lame excuse the cop might come up with to not wear one.

But, baby, I've been tested. Oh good! Slide it on.

But it feels better without. Feels pretty damn good with one, too.

Age and experience made me wiser, and the thought of another surprise pregnancy scared the shit out of me. Especially since I'd been on birth control last time and that had backfired.

Not all men are like Tim.

Had it really been four years since I'd slept with a guy? Yes. I'd never given anyone else a chance. Never met anyone I thought warranted one.

Until Jason. There was something about him. Not just his obvious good looks, penetrating blue eyes, or soft, wavy hair. No, it was the heart inside. He was sweet enough to box me in at the concert so I wouldn't get elbowed or bumped, but strong enough to act if he had to fend off any real attacks. He was a police officer, a man of honor, sworn to protect the everyday citizen with his own life.

As I patted my cheeks with powder from the brown compact I'd removed from my bag, I wished I'd packed some gum. Condoms, but no breath freshener?

Come on, Indie! Act like you've been here before.

But I hadn't, not technically.

Tim and I never had an intense physical connection. Not on my side, anyway. And I honestly didn't think he felt it, either. As a teenager, his hormones were always in overdrive. But when it came to sex, my reaction was less “Oh, darling, I need you, I want you” and more “It's time to give it up or you won't be dating the hottest football player to ever don the Bridgeland High blue and gold.”

If hindsight were foresight, I would've been smarter. Stronger. I would have just walked away. But back then, my life centered around guys and friends and clothes. Being popular and doing whatever it took to fit in. I wish I'd been one of those kids who learned from all the teenybopper movies shoved down our throats about being different and being yourself. But unfortunately, I grew up with a mom who loved attention and pushed me toward doing what I had to do to fit in—and keep my boyfriend happy. Because, damn, was I lucky Tim picked me.

Barf.

It had been so long since I felt this way about someone that it took all my concentration to rein my feelings in.

My body responded to Jason like it hadn't to anyone before. But my doubts and distrust were never far behind. There might be a day Jason wouldn't come home, just like my dad. I slammed the compact shut. Not coming home because you were killed in the line of duty was a far cry from abandoning your wife and kids.

Not all men were like my dad, either.

I swept my favorite pink gloss over my lips and checked my reflection one last time before exiting the bathroom.

Jason was already standing when I got back to the table, takeout bag in hand.

When I stepped close to him, he swept me into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around me so tight I couldn't move.

“Thank you for an amazing dinner,” Jason whispered into my hair.

I relaxed in his grasp, allowing him to hug me. I tucked my head under his chin and rested my cheek against the hard muscles of his chest. I felt him swallow, smelled the fresh scent of his soap. When he let go, I wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed myself against his side as he ushered us toward the doors.

Jason leaned down, tickling my ear with his breath. “My place?”

I squeezed his side in answer.

It took every ounce of self-control I had to not jump on his lap and straddle him in the truck on the drive to his house.

After the flirtation and sexual innuendo at the restaurant, I thought Indie and I would be tearing each other's clothes off in my truck.

Which shows how much I suck at dating.

I'd barely had a date in the last three years, let alone had sex. Sex was between me, my hand, and a magazine. After Heather ditched me, I focused on my five-year career plan. Getting involved with someone hadn't been part of my plan until I got back to Detroit. Why start something knowing I'd be leaving? I couldn't live in a slit-my-wrists-boring place like Bridgeland for the rest of my life.

But Indie could. Bridgeland was her hometown. It's where her family is. Where her life is. When I first asked Indie out, I never thought I'd fall this hard or fast. Was it fair to get so involved knowing it had always been my intention to leave?

Which was what was going through my head as we drove back. Indie and I had made out already, but having sex was a different beast. Especially having sex with a single mom who had more to think about than herself.

Instead of feeling each other up, we drove back to my place in uncomfortable silence, struggling with small talk. Almost like the expectation of what came next made us fumbling strangers again.

“Ever notice how people always want to give you a nickname?” Indie asked as I unlocked the door to my apartment. “Teachers tried to call me Linn or Denny or Lindy. I didn't like any of them, so I came up with Indie.”

I held the door open and let her walk in first. “Indie's cool.”

“I know. Like indie music or indie authors or—”

“Indy racing,” I supplied as I turned the lock behind me.

“Ugh! Don't redneck my nickname.”

She pushed me playfully.

I caught her hands in mine and brought them to my mouth, brushing my lips against the back of each. Then I leaned in to her and covered her shoulder with soft kisses before making my way up to that sweet spot where her shoulder meets her neck. The light scent of cologne on her skin was intoxicating.

I wanted her so fucking badly.

“Indie is beautiful,” I whispered before placing another light kiss under her ear.

When she shivered beneath my lips, it made me want to drop to my knees and worship her with my tongue. My pleasure grew with every one of her reactions. I nipped her earlobe with my teeth, then let my tongue linger behind her earlobe.

“Thank you,” she whispered, breathy and distant, lost in the feeling of my lips on her skin.

I swallowed hard, trying to calm my excitement. Then I lifted my head to meet her gaze. “Wanna go to bed?”

“I can't sleep here. I have to get home to Holden. I have to be there when he wakes up in the morning. Or what if he wakes during the night? I—”

I held my index finger to her lips, halting any further freak-out. “I didn't say anything about sleeping, Linden.”

Indie's eyes widened and her lips turned up in a small smile. But just as quickly, a stormy look crossed her face and she nibbled her bottom lip with her teeth.

My first thought involved leaning in and replacing her teeth with my own, but that would fall under “thinking with my dick.”

And, as a person trained in reading body language, I knew I'd freaked her out. Even without specialized training, any respectful and conscientious guy would notice her worried look right away.

I reached out to caress her face and she flinched. That's when I realized she hadn't been involved with many respectful and conscientious guys.

And I wanted to kill them all.

Figuratively, of course.

“Indie.” I reached out again, taking my time as I slipped my fingers into her silky mane of chocolate hair. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to. You can go home now or we can hang out for a bit and watch TV, and then I can take you home. No pressure. No worries.”

That made her smile. I'd made her happy. And her happiness made me hot. Hotter.

Fuck.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers. Instead of wrapping her arms around me like I expected her to, she slid her hands down my chest and across my stomach until she found the front of my jeans. As her fingers roamed, my pulse quickened and my body reacted, throbbing against my jeans.

She popped the button and slid the zipper down. Then she looked up at me through her lashes and said, “I've been home watching TV for four years.”

And just like that, Indie vaulted from girlfriend to goddess.

If she kept touching me, I was gonna blow before the main event, so I clutched her hand and led her to my bedroom, zipper open, junk flapping in the breeze.

“Sorry about that freak-out, copper,” she said.

“Don't ever apologize for being a good mom, Linden.” I kissed her forehead and then drew her into my arms. “It's one of your sexiest qualities.”

Indie's body stiffened.

Shit.

I'd forgotten about my junk flapping in the breeze. Despite being on our way to grind it out, I could see how she'd be weirded out with our embrace and the angle of my dangle.

“Relax, Indie. I've got condoms,” I assured her.

Indie turned her head, her eyes scanning my bedroom. “Am I crazy? I'm crazy, aren't I?” She looked at me again. “It's been four years. You'd think I'd be all up on your wang.”

That made me laugh. I shook my head, trying to form a coherent sentence, but I couldn't, because she'd used the words “up on your wang” and, at the risk of sounding like a complete dickbag, that's exactly where I wanted her.

Every time I thought I understood Indie, she surprised me.

“I'm glad you aren't up on my wang. I like classy ladies.” Shit. That came out sexist and condescending. “Not that being up on my wang in this situation wouldn't be classy. It would, because I know you. I just meant—”

Indie tightened her arms around me and rose to her toes. She pressed her soft mouth against my skin, teeth grazing my shoulder, which shut me up.

I staggered backward, spun her around, and deposited her on my bed.

Normally, my room served as a tranquil, relaxing place to let go of the day and all the bullshit that had happened.

But seeing Indie lying on my bed, gazing up at me with gorgeous, brown eyes, her pink lips slightly parted as if she were waiting for me to make her scream, made me feel anything but calm. I swallowed back a groan.

“Know what I want to watch?” I asked.

Confusion had her eyes darting around my room, but she wouldn't find the object of her search.

“There's no TV in here, Indie.” I brushed the skin at her waist and slowly lifted her shirt. “I want to watch you get naked.”