Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love #3) (6 page)

At the door, Scotty’s usual Buddy was there to greet us, a local high school senior named Elliot who was fantastic with him. “Hey. How’s it going, Scotty?”

“Hi, Elliot,” I said, saying his name on purpose so that Scotty could hear it and maybe use it in saying hello. Despite his insane memory for facts, he wasn’t good with names, even though he’d known Elliot for months. I also held out my hand for Elliot to shake so that Scotty would see how I greeted someone, but he didn’t imitate me today.

“Do you want to play Climb the Ladder?” Scotty said instead of hello. Most likely it was a question Elliot had posed to him last Sunday.

“Sure, we can play that game today. Ready to go in?”

Scotty nodded, and I knelt down in the effort to make eye contact, which he wasn’t always comfortable with, even with me. He once told me it was like a light that’s too bright for him when he looks directly at someone’s eyes. It just “feels wrong.” I never push it, and sometimes he will do it on his own, but every now and then I initiate it to see if he’ll respond. Today he met my eyes for a moment before looking off to the side.

“I’ll see you after Mass, OK?” I rubbed his earlobe, and he smiled.

“OK.”

Taking him by the arm, Elliot nodded at me and led Scotty down the hall toward the classrooms.

I headed into the sanctuary and chose a pew near the back that wasn’t too crowded. Pulling my phone from my jacket pocket, I made sure the sound was off, and couldn’t resist glancing at Jillian’s thread from last night. I looked over both shoulders before tapping her name, feeling heat in my face. Scrolling through it, I felt the heat in other places, and the crotch of my pants grew tight.

Jesus, put the phone away before a bolt of lightning strikes you. You’re probably going to hell as it is.

As the first notes of the opening hymn rang out, I dropped the phone back into my pocket and stood, trying to adjust my pants as stealthily as possible. But it was no use. I spent the entire service thinking about fucking Jillian Nixon in every possible position (and some impossible ones), and the only thing I prayed for was that no one would notice the massive erection I had.

Oh yeah. I was going to hell for sure.

But it might be worth it.

On Sunday, I slept until nine—a huge luxury for me—and went over to Natalie and Miles’s house for brunch. After that, I drove Skylar and Sebastian to the airport, where they’d catch a quick flight to Detroit, and then another to Cancun for a week. I admit, I felt a pang of envy seeing them off, but who wouldn’t? I blamed that on the fact that I hadn’t taken a vacation in forever, and I promised myself I’d take a trip somewhere in the next year, even if it was just a spa weekend with my sisters.

When I got home, I did some laundry, caught up on some paperwork, did some studying for the activities and tests I’d need to take to keep my board certifications, and took a power walk through the neighborhood.

Number of times I thought about Levi Brooks throughout the day: approximately one billion.

Number of times I read through our sext thread: at least one hundred.

Number of times I got myself off in my post-walk shower thinking about him: just one.

But it was a good one—I was glad the bathroom window was closed.

Afterward, I was putting my pajamas on when I heard my phone buzz on the nightstand. I glanced at it—Levi Brooks calling.

I tugged my shirt over my head and accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Hi. How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. I just got out of the shower.”
Thanks for the orgasm.
I jumped on the bed and criss-crossed my legs, which were clad in blue and pink plaid flannel pants. “I was a little sweaty after a walk.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“No, it’s just me here. What about you? Dog? Cat? Potbellied pig?”

“Nope. Just an eight-year-old boy and a thirty-two-year-old man here. That’s enough animal for one house.”

I laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”

“How was your day?”

“Good. I had brunch with my family at Natalie’s this morning. Took Skylar and Sebastian to the airport. Did some work this afternoon. How was yours?”

“Really good, actually. Church and then the park, where there was only one minor meltdown over an ambulance siren and he actually played on the swings with a few kids. Then a few errands. I
am
a little tired today, though. I went to bed kinda late last night.”

I smiled. “I’d say I was sorry, but…”

“Don’t you dare. So what are your plans for this week?”

“The usual. Work.”

“Are you busy on Friday evening?”

My heart thumped a few hard beats. “I don’t think so.”

“Can I take you out for a drink?”

“I’d like that.”

“Is six at Low Bar OK? I wish I had time for dinner too, but I like to be around here at bedtime.”

“I understand.”

“Should I pick you up?”

“Actually, I’ll probably have to meet you. I don’t get out of the office much before that time. Unless you’d be able to do Saturday night instead?”

He paused. “Probably not. Scotty and I have movie nights at home on Saturdays, and I missed it last night because of the wedding. I’m sorry.”

“That’s OK. Friday will work fine, really.”

“OK. Thanks.” A little silence. “I thought about you a lot today.”

I fell onto my back and smiled at the ceiling. “You did?”

“Yeah. I reread our texts from last night in church.”

I burst out laughing. “I’m surprised you didn’t burst into flames.”

“Me too. Every time I heard the word God, I imagined you screaming it.”

Gasping, I put a hand to my stomach, which felt like I was cartwheeling downhill. “You are so bad.”

“I know. Because then I thought about all the things I could do to
make
you scream it.”

It was a moment before I could speak again. “You did?”

“Yeah. Mass was over way too soon today.”

I exhaled slowly, my eyes sliding over to my nightstand drawer. I needed to recharge Magik Mike right the fuck now. God, I
loved
the way he talked. If only I could record it!

“Silence. Have I shocked you? Told you I was an animal.”

I laughed gently. “Um, no. I was just thinking that I wish I could somehow record this conversation, so I could hear you talk to me like that later on when it’s just me and Magik Mike.”

“Who the hell is Magik Mike?”

My face burned. Had I actually just admitted I had a vibrator? There was feeling at ease with someone and then there was TMI. What if this turned him off? “It’s, ah…a toy.”

“A toy?”

“Yes.” I sighed.
You might as well own it now, Nixon.
“For grown-ups.”

He laughed, that deep throaty sound that melted my insides. And my panties. “I wish I could come play with you.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t need the toy, silly.”

“Oh no, I’d put that toy to good use on you.”

My jaw dropped.
Sweet Jesus.
“You would?”

“Definitely. And there wouldn’t be a thing you could do about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d tie you to the bed first.”

“Oh, God.” I fanned myself as heat rose in my body, prickling on the surface of my skin.

“See? It works. Only I imagined it louder.”

“It would be. Trust me.”

He exhaled. “I don’t want to, but I better go. Scotty’s iPad break is about up, and it’s time to get back to math.”

“Ah, math homework. Can’t say I miss it. How’s it going?”

“It’s OK. He’s actually pretty good at math, he just struggles with directions. If a problem has more than one step, it’s tough. He also hates any kind of writing because he doesn’t have good fine motor skills. He gets frustrated and feels bad about it.”

My heart ached a little. “You must be so patient.”

“I try. Sometimes I need these breaks just as much as he does.”

“I’ll bet. Does he like school?”

“He did last year. He had a very understanding teacher who made him feel safe and capable. This year has had a rough start.”

“What about friends at school?”

He sighed again. “Not many. Scotty struggles to relate to other kids his age. He wants to, but several things make it tough. He doesn’t understand personal space, doesn’t understand slang and sarcasm, doesn’t like when kids deviate from the specific games he wants to play, or break the rules. He does better with younger kids, but I worry that he’s going to be picked on for that as he gets older.”

“Poor thing.”

“And he worries constantly about things other kids don’t understand.”

I rolled onto my side and propped my head on my hand. “What does he worry about?”

“God, some days the list is endless. The weather, the schedule, his schoolwork. Crowds. Storms. The dark. Loud noises. Washing and brushing his hair. Hot food.”

“Wow.” I wanted to ask if Scotty had been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder or even OCD, but I also wanted to preserve the casual, friendly feel of our conversation. I was curious about his son, and my natural instincts were to help, but I wasn’t his doctor and didn’t want to act like it. Mostly I was just listening for
Levi
, to give him an ear without weighing in.

“And then there are his obsessive interests.”

“Which are what?”

“Baseball stats, for one.”

“Well, that’s pretty typical for his age, right?”

“No. When the average second grader wants to talk about baseball, he wants to recap the awesome win from the night before or maybe say who his favorite players are. Scotty wants to recite the list of top MLB career batting averages, like fifty of them, complete with years played, games played, at bats, hits, runs, and RBI’s.”

“Whoa. He has all that memorized?”

“Completely. And hardcore eight-year-old fans might know names like Ty Cobb or Joe Jackson, but even they don’t really care about what happened in baseball in 1915. In St. Louis. On a Tuesday.”

I laughed. “What else is he interested in?”

“Dinosaurs and Franz Liszt.”

I laughed again. I couldn’t help it. “Baseball and dinosaurs, I understand. But Franz Liszt? The composer?”

Levi chuckled too. “Yes. He loves classical music. He went through a Mozart phase, then a Bach, then a Vivaldi. Now it’s Liszt.”

“Have you taken him to the symphony?”

“Not yet. I want to, but I’m worried—one, about the volume level, and two, about the crowd. Same with a Tiger game.”

“Well, he sounds like a very smart, interesting, well-rounded kid.”

“He is. I wish more people knew him like I did. I worry that will never happen.”

Something squeezed my heart. “Sounds like
you
have a lot of worries too.”

“I guess so, but what parent doesn’t? And maybe I’m making it sound worse than it is. We have plenty of good days too, including today. Anyway, I better get him refocused on math again.”

“Of course. Sorry to keep you with all my questions.”

“No, I’m glad you did. Thanks for asking. And for listening.”

“Any time. I’m looking forward to Friday.”

“Me too. And Jillian…” He sighed. “I’m sorry if I got a little overexcited about sex. I probably shouldn’t say all that to you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve talked to a woman this way, I don’t even remember what I’m doing. I’m like a fucking teenage boy. You’re going to think I’m no different than the asshole who couldn’t last five minutes in the closet.”

I laughed. “Hardly. I don’t think that at all. I think you’re like me. Really focused on one part of your life, so focused that the other parts feel like muscles we haven’t used in a while.”

“Exactly. But I promise I’ve learned a few things since the closet.”

“Guess what?” I whispered. “I have too.”

He groaned. “OK, I’m really going now. Or I never will.”

“Night, Levi.”

“Night.”

I ended the call and dropped the phone next to me. A date.
A date!
One that I was actually excited about—when was the last time that had happened?

I frowned, thinking about the last few dates I’d been on. I hadn’t even shaved my legs for those, but for Levi…

Scooping up my phone again, I made a note to call the salon on Tuesday and schedule a bikini wax. A full Brazilian.

I didn’t do anything halfway.