KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (33 page)

Dillon’s head is on Michael’s shoulder and his arms are limp at his sides as Michael walks the small way from the parking lot to my front porch. I’m standing just outside my door, but I can see my son is out.

Raising my arms, I make an attempt to grab Dillon from his hold, but Michael stops me, holding his hand in the air. “I’ve got him. Show me to his room,” he whispers so as not to wake him.

Nodding, I walk in front of him and down the dimly lit hallway. Once we reach the bedroom, Dillon wakes momentarily. He pulls himself off Michael’s chest, looking worn and tired, and glances around. Once he finds me standing there, he closes his eyes once again and lets Michael lay him down in bed. Instantly, he rolls over and curls into himself the way he always does.

“I’ll get him changed for bed after you leave,” I whisper, carefully removing his shoes.

“Let him sleep in the jersey. It’ll remind him how much fun he had tonight.”

“You wore him out,” I note with a smile.

Watching Michael still standing so close to Dillon is more than enough to take my breath away. I hate comparing the two men I’ve spent time with in my life, but it’s hard not to do. Gabe had so little time with Dillon. All evening, I thought about what it would’ve been like for him to be here taking him to his first game. My heart ached when I realized if Gabe
were
still here, I wouldn’t know Michael.

I feel the sudden warmth of Michael’s chest at my back, soon accompanied by his warm breath on my neck. His fingers inch beneath the hem of my shirt as he draws his hands together around my waist. “I think he had a good time.”

“I knew he would,” I concur, still looking down at Dillon. I turn my head to look at him. “Did you?”

I was curious to know if they got along and what kinds of conversations transpired when I wasn’t there. I wondered if Dillon was driving Michael crazy with questions, as he tends to do around new people, and how Michael handled the rapid fire of them.

“I did,” he confirms. “He wants to do it again.”

I release a small smile and grab his hand in mine before leading him to the hallway. Before I shut Dillon’s door, I take one last look at him lying in bed, wearing what he had to the game and knowing I’ll have a heck of a time ever getting him to take it off.

“He lived,” Michael chastises as he takes a seat on my couch. It’s the first time he’s ever made himself comfortable here. I take a mental picture to keep for later.

Sighing, I drop down beside him. “Looks like it.”

Michael’s finger traces the top of my head. When he adds more pressure, I close my eyes and lean into him. I feel his lips at my temple once, twice. When I pull back to see him staring at me in the same manner he had before they left, my mouth parts, but no words come out.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he tells me in a low voice. “He could wake up.”

Realizing what’s on his mind is the same that’s on mine, I lean back down and rest my head against Michael’s chest. All of this is new, but doesn’t feel that way.

Almost as if we’ve sat like this so many times before, Michael starts quiet conversation. “Did you and your husband want more kids?”

Shaking my head softly, I give him the only answer I know I have, which isn’t much. “I think maybe, had things not always been like they were, we would’ve wanted another. But Gabe worked a lot.”

“You wanted a little girl,” he muses. When I don’t agree, he adds, “I’m guessing you’d spoil her rotten in pink.”

Sitting up, unsure if I’m being made fun of, I find his face is serious. “Maybe. I didn’t care what Dillon was. I was happy he was mine.”

“He’s a good kid,” he advises. “A really good kid who’s into baseball. You need to think about expanding on that now. He’s the perfect age to start to learn.”

I love listening to Michael talk about my son. I do. However, being as I’ve thought about that kiss he gave me before he left and hoping he’ll do it again, I lean toward him and wait.

“You’re a good mom,” he murmurs between us. His approval doesn’t cause the reaction I thought it would. Rather, Michael noticing how much my son means to me creates a flutter in my stomach.

He doesn’t miss anything. Ever.

Michael’s lips are less than an inch away from mine. I suck in each breath, tasting him without contact. My hand moves to his cheek and my thumb traces his full bottom lip. His dark blue eyes look down into mine before he grabs my wrist and positions it on his lap.

“I need to go,” he releases through a sigh. Appearing to think, he says, “I really need to go.”

“Okay,” I concede. I’d like to push, but I don’t. Instead, I start to stand.

I lose balance when Michael’s hands wrap around my waist. He uses his strength to turn me to face him, my knees resting against his thighs.

“Lucy,” he says. His calloused hand wraps around my neck, while the other braces me to him at the waist. “You understand I don’t want to go, right?”

Now, I do. Feeling his erection beneath me, I move myself against it and his eyes immediately close. His warm breath on my face comes next as he exhales. The hand holding my neck tightens when I move again.

“You
do
understand, and now you’re just fucking with me.”

I smile. As soon as he opens his eyes, he sees it.

“She’s definitely fucking with me,” he tells himself.

I twist slightly in his grasp and he releases me completely. Standing between his knees, I look down and run my finger through the side of his hair. The hat he wore is gone, and the intoxicating smell of the sun and sweat take up the space around us.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask when he does nothing but undress me with his eyes.

Nodding, he stands. I don’t back away, hoping I’ll at least get to feel him against me, if ever so briefly. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he confirms. “Walk me out.”

Michael

“W
HOA,” CORBIN STATES, LOUD ENOUGH
to break up the heated conversation Lucy and I are engaged in first thing this morning. “What the hell am I walking into here?”

He’s settled inside the door to my office, watching a very pissed-off Lucy. She’s standing on the other side of my desk, looking down at me with obvious frustration. She’s livid at Corbin, as well, but he doesn’t know it.

Yet
.

I don’t get the chance to warn him before Lucy turns her back on me, then lights into my best friend.

Using her fist, she holds up the key fob to a company car both Corbin and I agreed to lease for her use.

“Michael told me you agreed to this,” she hisses, and his eyes widen at her tone now directed at him.

How’s that feel?

“
And
he told me
you
helped pick it out,” she continues.

Corbin finally understands what the commotion is all about and he isn’t appreciative. Looking at me first, he silently agrees she’s a pain in the ass. He turns to her and hisses back, “Jesus Christ, woman. It’s a
car
. You need one. Why are we standing here arguing about this?”

“Because it’s ridiculous?” She poses her response as a question, but gets nowhere with Corbin.

This all started the first morning after we got back in town. Lucy called and told me she’d be late getting into work. I was worried so, of course, I inquired as to why. She explained that Shannan had hit some traffic on her way to bring her to work, but reassured me she’d be here as soon as possible. I offered to come get her but, for whatever reason, she declined and chose to wait at her apartment instead.

It went against every fiber of my being to go along with her request and leave her to finding her own way. However, knowing her as I do, an independent and responsible person, I figured if I did, it would only serve to piss her off. I wasn’t about to create waves after just getting to know her the way I have.

I see my decision to let her have her own way hasn’t done me an ounce of good, though. The waves of her anger are spilling out all over my office.

“It’s not about the car!” Lucy screeches. “It’s ridiculous to give someone you’ve known less than two months something so excessive, Corbin.”

Corbin smirks, further pissing her off. I sit back in my chair, place my hands behind my head, and settle in to enjoy his ass dealing with her anger for once.

“I expected more from you,” she tells him in disappointment.

Corbin flinches, hearing her say something his mother would.

“How’s Ruby?” he asks, pointing out her loss for his own defense.

Lucy gasps, seemingly still very hurt by the tragic loss of her Honda.

“You can name the damn car if you want,” he tersely adds, fueling her already angered fire. I listen as he presses further for good measure. “Wanna name it Opal? Do it. Topaz? Diamond? I’m sure it’ll…”

Lucy’s hearing no more of this. Turning only her head back to me, she narrows her eyes. “I don’t accept. I’m not driving that car.”

“Do you even know what kind it is yet?” Corbin objects. “Do you have any idea how long it took us to find one suited for someone like you?”

I watch Lucy’s expression turn venomous before aiming her gaze back at him. “Someone…like…me?”

Oh shit.

“It fits you. Don’t refuse it until you’ve at least seen it.”

Lucy doesn’t counter. She looks in my direction, pinning me with an evil eye I only recognize a girl in third grade named Samantha ever giving me, then shoots one of the same to Corbin. He laughs. For my own sake, enjoying the relationship we’re only just starting, I stay quiet.

“Lighten up, Lucy. Go take a look. I even parked the damn thing in my spot downstairs. You’re welcome.”

Lucy murmurs something along the lines of “humph” as she walks toward him still standing at the door. Corbin, playing it smart, moves to the side to let her pass, but doesn’t take his eyes off her. She gives his shoulder a hefty girl punch before passing him completely.

“And
that
has been my morning,” I tell him to summarize.

Corbin walks to my desk, smiles at the loads of paperwork sitting on top of it, and takes a seat.

“God, I might strangle her,” he tells me.

“Yep,” I concur, sitting up and flattening my suit. I swear the woman ruffled it with only her eyes.

“Think she’ll stay pissed for long?”

“Nope,” I answer. She won’t, either.

Lucy will take one look at the cherry red Volkswagen Bug and fall in love with the ridiculous thing. For the car’s sake, I’m hoping she doesn’t coin it ‘Ruby II’ or something equally as outrageous.

“So what do we have?”

“Right,” Corbin starts. “Yesterday, Jane talked to Margret. She’s not backing down and truly believes she has a case. I’m not sure what it is she thinks she’s got, but Lucy’s clean.”

“We knew this,” I return.

“Two weeks from today, we’re meeting with Jackson Wills. We need to tell Lucy we know what’s happening.”

I hadn’t wanted to do this. I was hoping Jane would get Margret to back off so Lucy wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit.

Other than taking Dillon to the game last night, I’ve hardly seen Lucy at all. We haven’t discussed our new relationship beyond not revealing it to others. This includes Corbin, who will probably frown on someone like me getting involved with someone like her, and Lillie, although that woman will be as elated at the news as my mother was.

“How was the game?” Corbin questions. “I watched it, and I’m happy Dillon got to see the Yankees win. How’d it go with him?”

“I think he loved it,” I reply. “He loved being around the fans the most, I think.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“He’s a lot like Lucy,” I add. “Talks as much anyway.”

“Christ. Is that possible?”

Thinking of all the questions Dillon asked on the way there and as the game started, I realize he’s more like her than I originally thought.

“Yes.”

“Think you should tell Lucy about Victoria soon?”

I don’t want to do this yet. Lucy and I are starting something and, although I’m not sure where it’ll go, I want to enjoy it for what it is. Victoria and the memories of our marriage will surely taint this.

“She knows I was married.”

“Mike,” he voices tersely. “There’s more and we both know it. She was married, too.”

Nodding, I offer only, “I’ll tell her, but not yet.”

“I think that’s a mistake.”

He can think what he wants. If he were in my position, I bet he’d do the same. Thankfully, he’s not in my position, and sure as fuck not with Lucy.

Changing the subject, I ask, “Are you planning to take a date to the charity dinner this weekend?”

Corbin looks at his watch, flipping through the screens to get to his calendar. “Shit, that’s this weekend?”

“Yes.”

He shakes his head. “No. No date. I’ll wing it. You?”

“No,” I lie. “I’ll grab Lucy on the way, then have Marcus take her home when she wants to leave.”

Corbin nods, then asks, “How was Lucy with the trip back home?”

I’ve debated on how much to tell him. I sure as hell don’t have time to spar again in regards to me not hurting her. If I tell him what happened between us, he’ll inevitably pull a big brother lecture out of his ass, and I’ll have no choice but to listen.