Seduction and Snacks (24 page)

She laughed and patted my cheek in sympathy. I sucked at this. I didn't do well under pressure. I cared about her and Gavin and I just wanted her to know I wasn't going anywhere. How fucking hard was that to say?

"That's not what I mean. I mean, yes, I hate clowns. They are dumb and creepy and grown men should never wear anything with polka dots or giant shoes."

God dammit, stop the word vomit!

Before I could open my mouth and stick a giant clown shoe in any further, Claire covered my mouth with her hand.

"It's okay if you're freaked out. I wouldn't blame you, believe me. This is a lot to take in," she said softly. “All of a sudden you go from single and free to having a built-in family.”

I took a deep breath and tried it again, reaching up and pulling her hand away from my mouth and resting it flat against my chest.

"Let me just start off by saying I really, really suck ass at doing the whole "touchy-feely, talk about my feelings" shit. Although if you ask Drew, he would surely disagree since he spent five years listening to me whine like a baby about how much I wanted to find you. After all that time and spending years driving everyone around me crazy just trying to find your smell again, I am not about to fuck this up and run screaming into the night."

Her thumb moved back and forth over my chest and she brought her other hand up to my cheek before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on my lips. When she pulled her face back, I wrapped my arms around her small waist and rested my forehead against hers.

"I know after I found out I fled the scene like a hit-and-run driver, but I promise you Claire, I will never get spooked again."

She pulled back and looked me in the eye, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile.

"Did you really just quote Cocktail to me right now?"

"Yes, yes I did. If you'd like me to go all crazy Tom Cruise and jump up and down on a couch for you, I'll totally do it."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I WOULD RATHER TAKE IT UP THE ASS!"

Drew’s booming voice from the living room pulled our attentions away from each other. We took one last look at Gavin before closing his door, and then walked hand in hand down the hall to find everyone sitting around the living room playing a twisted game of "would you rather".

Claire and I sat down next to each other on the couch. I put my arm around her shoulders and she snuggled into my side. Nothing had felt this perfect in a long time.

"Alright, my turn," Drew said. "Jim, would you rather have your porn name be Hugh G. Rection or Mike Unstinks?"

"Chains and whips excite me...c-c-c-come on, come on...S-S-S-S-M-M-M..."

"Gavin Allen Morgan, if you don't stop singing that song I am going to put you on the curb for the garbage men to pick up," I yelled for the tenth time today as I finished cleaning up the kitchen from lunch.

"That's boring," Gavin muttered before stomping off to his room.

"Speaking of garbage, when is that Christy guy going to be here?" my dad asked from his seat at the kitchen table.

Why is everyone determined to get on my nerves today?

"It's CARTER, Dad. Stop being an ass. He'll be here when he wakes up."

My dad made a production of looking down at his wrist where there wasn’t even a watch.

“It’s 12:48. What kind of a slacker is this guy?”

I threw the dish towel on the counter and turned to give my dad a dirty look.

“He works the nightshift, dad. We’ve been over this already. One more comment out of you and I’m changing your Facebook status to “I love penis.”

I walked over to the fridge to add a few things to my shopping list that hung off of the freezer and tried not to glance at the clock. I was definitely anxious to see Carter.

I was up to my eyeballs in stuff for the grand opening and Carter was working a lot of overtime so we hadn't seen each other since the night of dinner a week earlier. But we talked on the phone and he also called a few times just to talk to Gavin, which totally made my heart melt.

Thoughts of our time in the storage room earned me extra credit in Liz Homework by making my way through my suitcase of "who needs a man" products for a second time. Liz got all choked up on the phone when I told her. It was a beautiful moment for the two of us.

I was working at the bar tonight so Carter was going to give me a ride up there. I called Liz and told her she and Jim should come so Carter wouldn't be bored.

"I think maybe I'll hide behind the couch and jump out when he gets here. Put the fear of George into him," my dad said with a nod of his head.

"Not funny. And don't you mean "fear of God"?"

He shrugged. "Same thing."

God said "Let there be light" and George Morgan flipped the switch.

This was the most my dad had spoken about Carter since they met. Granted, it wasn't very flattering but hey, it was progress. At least he was acknowledging his existence and not thinking up new ways to kill him. Dad had been going down the alphabet for a week now and finally stopped at the letter S.

Death by shopping cart suffocation, in case you were wondering.

The doorbell rang and I hurried to answer it. I wiped my hands on the front of my jeans, smoothed my hair and bent forward to reach my hand down the front of my shirt and tug each of the girls up so their prime real estate was on full display. I stood back up, took a deep breath and flung the door open. My heart actually skipped a beat when I saw Carter standing there.

"You know there are windows on either side of your door right? And that your curtains are see-through?" Carter said with a smirk.

Why? WHY, for the love of God!

"I would give you my entire paycheck for a month if you bent over in front of me and fluffed your boobs again," he said as he stepped through the door, and I closed it behind him.

I closed my eyes, fully prepared to be mortified and not make eye contact, but before I could wish for a giant hole in the floor to swallow me up, Carter’s lips were on mine. He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me up against him, cupping my cheek with his hand as he slid his tongue past my lips and slowly stroked it through my mouth. I could kiss this man for days and never get enough. His lips moved against mine, soft and sensually, while his hand slid from my cheek, down my neck, and stopped on the bare skin right above my heart. I wanted to reach up and push his hand down into my bra. My fists clutched onto the front of his shirt and a whimper escaped from me as his hand inched just a tiny bit lower. If my mouth wasn't fused to his right now, I might wonder if I said that last part out loud. Or maybe he could read my mind.

Touch my boobs. Do it. The power of my mind commands you.

His hand stopped its downward descent and I wanted to scream. His tongue continued to slide against mine ever so slowly and I really wished I had one of those green flags from the NASCAR races. I would've waved that thing all around. Wave it in the air like I just don't care.

Carter, start your engine! You have been given the green flag. All systems go. Hit the gas and let your hand grab the boob.

"If you touch my daughter's boobs while I'm standing right here, I'm gonna have to put taffy in your trachea until you terminate."

Carter and I broke apart so fast you would have thought we were teenagers that just got caught having sex instead of grown adults that had a child together.

"Did your dad just tell me he was going to choke me to death with taffy?" Carter whispered.

"Yeah. He's on the letter T. Behave or an umbrella up your Uranus will be in your future," I whispered back.

My father walked over to us and looked Carter up and down.

"You got any tattoos, son?"

Carter looked at me in confusion and I just shrugged my shoulders. You never knew what was going to come out of my dad's mouth.

"Uh, no. No, sir, I do not," Carter replied.

"You own a bike?"

"Well, I have a pretty nice mountain bike that's still in storage because I just haven't had time to take it out for a…"

"Motorcycle, Cathy," my father interrupted with a sigh of annoyance. "Do you own a motorcycle?"

Carter shook his head, “No, and my name is Cart-“

"You ever been arrested or get in a bar fight?" my dad interrupted.

"No, I've never been arrested or gotten into any kind of fight, Mr. Morgan," Carter said with a confident smile.

My dad leaned over towards me.

"Claire, are you sure this kid isn't gay?" he whispered to me.

"Jesus, Dad! No, he's not gay," I yelled back.

"Hey…" Carter said, insulted by my dad's question.

My dad turned to face Carter and sighed.

"Fine, you can date my daughter and get to know your son. But if you knock her up again…"

"DAD!"

My dad looked over at me with my hands on my hips and smoke practically coming out of my ears and then continued with his warning like I wasn’t there.

"…I will comb the face of the earth, hunt you down like a dog, and drop her cranky ass off on your doorstep. I'm not dealing with another nine months of Miss Pissy Pants over there."

Oh for the love of God.

I looked back and forth between them as they stared each other down.

Carter nodded his head and stuck out his hand for my dad to shake.

"Deal," Carter said as they shook on it.

Wonderful. One big happy cray-cray family.

Just then, Gavin flew through the living room holding something above his head.

"Carter! Look at the new sword I gots!"

Christ almighty!

My son was running into the room with my Jack Rabbit above his head like he was a gladiator going into battle. A gladiator with a purple "sword" that had five speeds.

"Oooh, what does this button do?" Gavin asked as he stopped and pressed the button that made the beads swirl around.

I flew over to him and tried to snatch it out of his hand, but he wouldn't let go. I frantically pressed all of the buttons to get it to stop while I played tug-of-war with Gavin and suddenly I hit one that switched it to warp speed and made the whole top part start rotating and vibrating so hard Gavin's arms shook.

"M-m-m-m-m-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m-m th-th-th-th-i-i-i-i-s-s-s-s t-t-t-i-i-ck-l-e-s-s-s."

Fucking hell. When did this kid get so strong?

"Gavin, cut it out. This is not a toy," I said through gritted teeth.

I was playing tug-of-war with a rubber penis and my son. This is not okay people!

"It is too a toy. Why do you get all the good toys?" Gavin huffed as he put all of his weight into pulling the thing out of my hand and I actually stumbled forward.

"No, really guys don't worry. I've got this," I said sarcastically at my dad and Carter. They were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, a few feet away watching the show. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Of course. NOW they bonded - when I was trying to wrestle a sex toy out of my kid's hand.

"Gavin, let go NOW!" I yelled.

"You better do as your mom says, Gavin. She gets grumpy when she can't play with her toy," my dad laughed.

Carter laughed right along with him until I shot him a look that clearly said "If you don't shut the fuck up and help me, I will never let you in my pants again."

His mouth quickly shut and he finally moved.

"Hey, Gavin, I got something for you I left on the front porch. And it's a much better toy than your mom's. Why don't you run out and grab it," Carter suggested.

Gavin released his death grip on the vibrator without another word and ran out the front door.

"You are so lucky you helped me when you did or there would have been serious repercussions," I told Carter angrily.

Obviously he didn't get the severity of the situation since he was actually giggling right now. And my dad was wiping tears out of his eyes. Then I looked down and realized I had been enunciating my point by shaking the vibrator in Carters face.

I quickly put my arm down, opened one of the end table drawers and shoved the damn thing inside just as Gavin ran back into the house with a toy gun, cowboy hat and sheriff’s badge stuck to his shirt.

"Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they cut your wiener," Gavin sang as he pointed his gun at random objects.

"Wow, cops have gotten pretty hardcore lately," Carter muttered.

***

I forgave Carter on our ride to the bar because come on, look at him. I couldn't hold a grudge and fantasize about his penis. It was a major conflict of interest.

Business was just starting to pick up at the bar as the after-work crowd started filing in around seven. Liz and Jim ate dinner with Carter at one of the booths and the three of them moved over to the bar after they were done. On one of my many trips walking past them, Carter reached out and grabbed my arm. He swiveled his seat to the side so he could pull me between his legs. I set my empty tray on top of the bar next to him and he rested his hands on my hips.