Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love #3) (17 page)

My lady friend. Jillian would love that one.

Should I do it? God, I was so tempted. If she meant what she said, and she’d stick to Scotty’s routine without any “improvements” or surprises, he might be OK. Staying at Monica’s had been a change in routine and a change in environment. This had the potential to go a lot smoother. Maybe I’d try it for a night, and if it went well, we could do a weekend eventually.

“OK, Mom. I’ll take you up on the offer.”

She clapped her hands together. “Good!”

“But you have to do it exactly like you said. Follow the routine to the letter. And call me at the first sign of a meltdown.”

She held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“In that case, what’s your weekend like?”

“I’m all yours.”

“Friday night would be great. It’s her birthday.”

“How nice! Take her somewhere wonderful. Maybe Chateau Grand Traverse. Or one of the new wineries! You could have dinner at one of the tasting rooms.” She noticed my expression. “Does that eye roll mean I’m meddling?”

“Yes. I can handle the date details if you can handle Scotty.”

“I can.”

“Good. If you come down in the early afternoon, you could take him to swim therapy after school. He really loves it.”

Her eyes got misty. “Oh, I’d love that. I’m so happy, Levi. This is perfect.”

Nothing was perfect, but an entire night with Jillian sounded pretty close. I couldn’t wait to tell her.

When I checked my phone Monday after work, I noticed I’d missed a call from Levi. He hadn’t left a voicemail, but he’d texted.
Give me a call when you get a moment. Good news.

What kind of good news?
I wondered. Maybe he’d talked to his sitter and she was available Friday. I would be happy if that was the case, but part of me kind of hoped she wouldn’t be able to watch Scotty, and Levi would ask me to come over instead of canceling the date. I didn’t need anything elaborate for my birthday, and getting to meet his son would have been a wonderful gift. But I didn’t want to pressure him.

I called him back on the drive home.

“Hey you,” he said when he answered.

“Hi.”

“How was your day?”

“Good. Yours?”

“Good. I had lunch with my mother.”

“Oh yeah? Was that planned?”

“No, it was an ambush. She pretended to miss me and said she just wanted some time with me, but really she’d heard about you from my sister and wanted the scoop.”

I laughed. “That sounds like something my mom would do. Or my sisters. How’d it go?”

“It was good, actually. I tried to get out of it at first, but she guilted me into going, and then once we were there, I ended up saying some things to her I probably should have said a while ago.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Nothing earth-shattering, but I let her know that her criticism of my parenting choices wasn’t appreciated. And I’d be glad to spend more time with her if she agreed to stop doing it.”

“Good for you. It’s hard to stand up to your parents, even as an adult.”

“Yeah, I think she understood where I was coming from. And honestly, a lot of what I took as criticism or felt as censure might have been typical mom advice I was just extra sensitive to, because I already felt like I had no idea what I was doing.”

“That’s possible.”

“I’d always felt like the bad kid growing up, because Monica was so perfect and never got in any trouble, so when I got Tara pregnant I kind of assumed they viewed it as my biggest fuckup ever.”

As ridiculous as it sounds, the phrase
I got Tara pregnant
spiked a rush of jealousy so fierce, my heart rate sped up. Had he said when Tara got pregnant, I don’t think I’d have reacted that way, but somehow the
I got
made me think of him actually having sex with her. Creating a child inside her. Watching that child grow within her. Being present at his birth. Experiencing with her all the wonderful and miserable things new parents experience—hearing him cry for the first time, changing diapers, feeding him, giving baths, taking him to his checkups. Every day I saw bleary-eyed, adoring new parents in the office. He’d already done all that with someone. It’s not like I hadn’t known it before, but I felt an ache in my gut all the same.

I tried to clear my head. “Wow. Did you say that to her?”

“I did, actually. And she swore it wasn’t true.”

“Good.”

“She also promised to do less criticizing and more listening, and she offered to come down with my dad and stay overnight with Scotty at the house so you and I can have some time alone together.”

“She did?”

“Yes. She called it treating you to a proper courtship.”

I winced. “Oh, God. That’s embarrassing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s weird that your mom knows we have sex!”

“Well, considering I have a son, I’m pretty sure she already knows I have sex.”

“I’m talking about me. You can do no wrong, you’re her son, but I don’t want her to think I’m promiscuous before she even meets me.”

“But after she meets you, it’s OK?”

I groaned. “No.”

“Listen, stop worrying. She will love you when she meets you. Trust me.”

I wondered when that would be. “OK.”

“So let’s talk about your birthday. Can I pick you up a little early? Like around two?”

“Uh, sure. What’s the plan?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Pack an overnight bag.”

My heart pumped faster again, for a good reason this time. “OK. What should I wear?”

“You always look gorgeous. Anything you want—but if it shows your legs or neck or shoulders, be warned I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

I smiled. “Got it. I can’t wait.”

• • •

On Friday morning, I treated myself to a massage and facial before heading home to shower and pack a bag for the night. I still had no idea where we were going or what we were doing, but I really didn’t care—I was happy that we’d finally have our night together. In the back of my mind was the fear that he’d get the call and have to go home, but there was no sense dwelling on that. Part of loving him was accepting that he was always a father first, and I could do that. It made having all his attention that much sweeter when I had it.

The day was sunny but cool, so I dressed in fitted jeans, boots, and a slouchy sweater that Skylar had gotten me for Christmas last year. It was soft and cream-colored, and its draped cowl neck fell off one shoulder, which I thought Levi would like. Underneath it I wore a camisole but no bra, something I could do that my full-chested sisters could not. It was a small perk and didn’t make up for being denied their luscious curves, but it was still a perk.

In case I needed something dressier tonight, I threw a dress that packed well and a pair of heels into my bag, along with a deliciously sexy bra and panty set in a deep maroon color. For tomorrow, I put in another top I could wear with jeans, plus extra socks and underwear.

Yes, I was a Girl Scout.

Finally, I tossed in my hairbrush and makeup bag, making sure to double-check that I had my birth control pills inside it. While I was waiting for Levi’s knock, I wondered if Tara had been on the pill. He’d never said exactly how the pregnancy had happened. Natalie had gotten pregnant accidentally because she’d messed up taking her pills, so I knew it was possible. Was it something I could ask casually about? I wasn’t sure. He seemed open on the subject of his past, but I didn’t want him to think I was obsessing over it. Because I wasn’t.

At five after two, I heard the knock and threw my bag over my shoulder.

When I opened the door, the sight of him left me momentarily breathless. God, I loved that feeling. It was one of the best parts about falling in love.

He wore jeans too, and a fitted dark blue button-down with a light brown jacket.

“Hey, happy birthday.” He kissed me and caught me in his arms, lifting me right off my feet. “Mmmm, you even smell like a cake.”

I smiled, burying my face in his neck. “Thanks.”

“Can I have a piece?”

“Now?” I laughed as he set me down.

“I guess I could wait.” He sighed. “But it won’t be easy.” Picking up the bag I’d dropped at my feet, he took my hand and led me to the car. He opened the passenger door for me, then put the bag in the back. I took off my coat and tossed it into the back seat, and he did the same with his jacket before getting behind the wheel.

“I’m so curious,” I said. “What are we doing?”

He gave me a crooked smile and patted my knee. “It’s my sister who can’t keep secrets.”

“You won’t even give me a clue?” I asked as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car.

“Nope.” He backed out of the parking space and threw the car in drive. “But I will let you control the music.”

I eyed the satellite radio panel. “Then I’m going to torture you the whole ride to wherever we’re going.”

“With what?”

“With 90s on 9.” I pressed a few buttons and turned it up. “And I hope it’s Spice Girls the entire time!”

He groaned as I threw myself a little party in the front seat, dancing and singing like I was twelve years old again.

When the song ended, I took pity on him and turned it down. “Still no clue?” We were headed south out of town; that was all I could tell.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

I put my hand on his leg and slid it up his thigh. “Please?”

He smiled but said nothing.

I brushed my hand over the crotch of his jeans. “Pleeeeeeeease. I’ll be so nice to you while you’re driving.”

He glanced at me. “How nice?”

“
So
nice.” I stroked him a little harder through the denim, which was tight against the bulge in his pants.

“Hmmmmm. This is a very tempting offer.”

“Isn’t it? It will feel so good,” I cooed. “And it’s been so long—almost a whole week—since I’ve touched you like this.”

He groaned. “Tell me about it.”

“Did you have to do it yourself?” I asked, a lilt in my voice. I slipped the button of his jeans through the hole.

He glanced at me and shook his head like he couldn’t believe me, a slow smile tipping his lips up. “You’re so bad.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I did. Every night.”

I giggled as I dragged the zipper down. “You’re worse than me. I only did it twice.”

“I had a lot of material to work with after Saturday night. Oh fuck,” he breathed as I slid my hand inside his boxer briefs. “You shouldn’t even say that stuff to me while I’m driving, let alone touch my dick that way.”

“Why not?” I freed his growing erection from his pants and swirled my fingers over the tip. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It feels too good.”

I stilled my hand. “Want me to stop?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled as we turned onto the highway. “Fuck no. Tell me about what you did. It will be a good exercise in control for me.”

“Well, once was in the shower.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” I continued teasing the head of his cock, my touch light and playful. “And I wasn’t planning on doing it because it was in the morning before work, but then I remembered you in my shower, and I pictured your body with water streaming down your arms and chest and torso. I imagined getting my hands on your wet skin, and you getting your hands on mine, and before I knew it, I had my hand between my legs.”

Levi took another deep, deep breath.

“I thought about watching your cock get hard, how hot that would be. I pictured it getting bigger and thicker, imagined how it would feel in my fist, in my mouth, sliding inside me.”

He reached over and ran his hand up the inside of my thigh. “God, I wish you’d worn a skirt. I want to feel your pussy right now so fucking badly.”

“I’m wet, just like I was in the shower.” My voice was breathy and soft. His dick was hot and hard in my hand. “I told myself I didn’t have time to fool around, but I couldn’t stop.”

“Fucking hell.” Leaning toward me slightly, he undid the button and zipper on my jeans. “I don’t care who sees. I have to touch you.”

Under ordinary circumstances, I’d probably have zipped up my pants and crossed my legs. I was somewhat daring in bed, but public sex was not my thing. But fuck—it was my birthday.

And Levi was no ordinary man.

Plus, we sat up sort of high in the SUV, the windows were slightly tinted, and this stretch of highway wasn’t that crowded at two thirty in the afternoon. So instead of demurring, I slid them down a little, surprising myself—and shocking the hell out of Levi.

“Oh God. Oh Jesus.” He moaned as he slipped his fingers between my legs and found me warm and wet, exactly like I’d said. “Keep talking.”

I put my hand down his jeans again. “I started to fantasize that my fingers were the tip of your cock, and you wanted to get me off just like that—rubbing the tip against me.”

As I talked, he used his fingertips on me like I’d done in the shower, probably not with as much artistry as he’d have liked but with my jeans only at my knees and his hand at an angle, he didn’t have a lot of room for finesse. Then there was the whole driving on the highway thing.

Still.

I felt the orgasm building and tried to move my hips to give him better access. If there was any lingering trepidation about being on the road, it vanished with the climb. “I kept saying no, you should stop, I’ll be late for work, but you just kept rubbing me harder and faster. You told me you wouldn’t stop until I came, and that even if you had to keep me there in the shower all day, you wouldn’t care.”

“Fuck no, I wouldn’t.”

“And it was so good, so good…” It was so good I couldn’t even talk anymore. I wrapped my hand around his cock and squeezed, my breath coming in sharp, quick pants, my hips thrusting against his fingers. “Levi, yes, yes, yes…”