It’s been quite a day to say the least.
Earlier, the school called for me to pick up Aiden because he’d been in yet another fight. I received a lecture from the principal that if this keeps up, other measures might need to be taken for his education. I questioned him about whether the other boys, the ones who keep bullying Aiden, were receiving the same threat. He responded with a non-committal grunt.
I was happy to be able to work one-on-one with Zander while the rest of the boys were in school. Our counseling staff thought it was best to home school him until he started communicating verbally. Trying to teach someone who, for the most part, is unresponsive is a frustrating endeavor to say the least. All I want is for some kind of break through. Something tells me he knows how much I care for him. That I wish he still had his mother to soothe him. To hug him. To tell him she loves him.
The boys are keeping themselves busy while I’m at the table reviewing Shane’s paper for school. Jackson’s shift ended an hour ago and his replacement, Mike, is at a counseling appointment with Connor.
I’m thoroughly impressed with how well Shane is improving in school, a result of our many one-on-one sessions with him. I glance over to the family room area where Kyle and Ricky have brought their box of baseball cards. They sit down on the floor next to the coffee table and turn their attention to the basketball game on the television. Zander is in his usual place, stuffed animal held to his chest and his eyes staring into space. Scooter is lying on the carpet, coloring in one of his Spiderman coloring books. I listen for the telltale sign of music in the back bedrooms to indicate that Shane is in his room. I finish making comments on Shane’s paper and shift my attention toward reviewing the meal and afterschool activity schedules for the next week.
I hear a knock at the front door and before I can even put my pen down, I hear Shane yell, “I got it!” from his bedroom. I smirk because I know he’s hoping it’s his “girl that is a friend.” She came over last week, and Shane is still on cloud nine.
“Look before you open,” I tell him as I rise from the table and walk toward the hall. As I reach the corner that leads to the foyer, Shane breezes past me, disappointment on his face. “It’s for you,” he says, plopping on the couch.
I turn the corner, figuring that there’s a delivery. The House is always receiving legal documents via courier, regarding our kids’ situations. I reach the doorway and when I step out, I come face to face with Colton. Despite his sunglasses, I know he’s looking me up and down. A lazy, lopsided grin on his face that causes his dimple to deepen, spreads across his face.
Damn my breath for catching at the sight of him. As much as I don’t want him here, don’t want the complication of what he has to offer in my life—a quick fuck that’s easily discarded—I am giddy at the sight of him. And this turn of events is not looking good for me.
I stop in the doorway, a smile spreading on my face despite knowing that he’s bad news for me. We stand, looking at each other, taking each other in for several moments. He’s in a well-worn pair of jeans, and a black T-shirt clings to his muscular torso. The simplicity of his clothing only adds to his devastating looks. His dark hair is windblown, wild, and sexy as hell.
Everything about him screams here comes trouble. And I’m standing right in his path like a deer in the headlights, unable to move. Willpower is only going to last me so long. I’m seriously screwed.
“Hello, Rylee.” The simple rasp of his voice saying my name has me flashing back to his mouth on mine. His hands on me. His vibrations propelling shockwaves through my body.
I cock my head to the side regarding him. “Hi, Ace,” I say guardedly. “Since when did you add stalker to your repertoire of talents?”
I slip my hands into the rear pockets of my jeans as I lean against the doorjamb. He removes his sunglasses, his emerald eyes blazing into mine, and then folds them to hang in the neck of his shirt. Their weight pulls the neckline down so several dark hairs curl out. I drag my eyes from the sight back up to his eyes.
He flashes me a lightning fast grin. “I’d be more than happy to show you my talents, sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes. “Womanizing is not a talent.”
“True.” He draws the word out and slowly nods his head, “but you’ve yet to see the true depths of my many others.” He arches an eyebrow, a roguish smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “And since you keep running, I can’t show you and we can’t solve our little problem about that date you owe me.” He takes a step closer, a playful look in his eyes. I retreat a step back into the foyer, leery of this dance we are engaging in. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Ryles?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Donavan. I’ve been warned about guys like you.”
He smirks. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine. His patronizing smile irks me. He takes another step closer, causing my pulse to quicken.
“What do you want? Why are you here?” I huff.
“Because I want my date with you,” he says, slowly enunciating every word. “And I always get what I want.” He places both hands on the doorjamb, leaning into it, his silhouette blocking the afternoon sun, his dark features haloed by the bright light.
I shake my head at his nerve and boundless conceit. “Not this time,” I disagree. I push the front door to shut and turn back on my heel down the hallway.
In less than a heartbeat, Colton grabs my upper arm, whirls me around, and has me pressed up against the doorjamb. “Keep fightin’ me, sweetheart. The feistier you are, the harder you make me.” There is a dangerous amusement in his tone that scrapes over me and prickles my senses.
Shit! How can he make those words sound like a seductive promise?
He presses his hips against mine, holding me against the hard, unforgiving wood. We’re both breathing heavily, and I’m unsure if it is from the physical exertion or from our proximity to each other.
Colton releases my upper arm and brings both of his hands to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing at my jaw line. His translucent eyes burn into mine, and I can sense an internal struggle in him, his jaw tensing in deliberation.
“As much as I’d like to warn you away from me, Rylee—for your own sake,” he murmurs, inches from my mouth, “all I crave is the taste of you.” His finger trails a line down the side of my neck, lighting my skin on fire. “It’s been too long since I’ve savored you. You. Are. Intoxicating.” His words are a staccato that match the quickening of my heart.
Oh fucking my! If that comment didn’t make desire flood every inch of my skin, nothing will. The man can seduce me with words alone. He’s pulling at me, testing my willpower, and making me want way more than I should. We breathe each other in for a moment as I try to form words in my head. Gain some semblance of coherence. His mere presence makes my synapses misfire.
“Why are you warning me,” I breathe, completely immobilized by the intensity of his stare, “when you’re going to take what you want anyway?”
He quickly flashes a grin before his lips are on mine, his hands on me, proving my point and then some. This kiss is not gentle by any means. I can sense his hunger, his fiery need as our teeth clash. His lips and tongue move at a frenzied pace against mine while his hand grabs hold of my ponytail and tugs down, holding me in place.
I relish this kiss as much as he does, for all of my pent-up frustration over him explodes within me. I am caught up in the hurricane that is Colton. I take as he is taking. I curl my arms around his torso, running my hands up his back, enjoying the firm delineation of his muscles as he moves with me. I nip at his bottom lip, aroused by the low moan that comes from the back of his throat. We press into each other, unable to get enough of each other’s touch—the only thought running through my head is that I want more.
I’m suddenly shocked back to reality like an angel losing her wings when I hear the boys cheering loudly in the family room at something to do with the basketball game. I push Colton back with two hands against his chest.
I try to catch my breath and my bearings by placing my hand against the wall and trying to steady myself. What the hell am I thinking? I’m making out in the doorway at work. For the second time. What the hell is this guy doing to me? When I’m around him it’s as if I’ve lost all sense of reality. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I’m shaken. Really shaken. No one has ever elicited such a blatant carnal reaction from me, and it scares me.
Colton stands across from me, calm as can be, keenly watching. Why do I feel as if I have just run a marathon and he looks like an uninterested bystander?
I finally find my voice. “You’re right,” I say ruefully. “I most definitely should stay away from you.” I look back toward the hallway as I catch a slight grimace on his face. “I need to check on the boys. You can see yourself out,” I tell him as I turn abruptly and walk back toward my responsibilities. My reality.
I enter the great room trying to plaster a natural smile on my face, but failing miserably. All the boys are where I left them and for that I am thankful—glad that no one ventured into the hallway to see their guardian acting like a teenager filled with raging hormones.
Something in my periphery catches my eye. I turn to see Colton standing at the edge of the hallway, thumbs hanging in the pockets of his jeans, shoulder casually leaning against the wall. His face is expressionless, but those iridescent eyes say so much.
What now? Can’t he just leave me alone?
I glare at him, hoping my angst is reflected in my eyes. I see that Shane has taken notice of the stranger standing in his home. He turns his attention to Colton, sizing him up. His face scrunches as he contemplates the stranger, trying to place him.
“What do you want?” I scowl despite trying to keep the contempt out of my voice. The last thing the boys need to witness right now is a confrontation. I notice Kyle and Ricky’s heads pop up to look over the table like a pair of meerkats.
Colton glances at the boys and smiles politely, although I can see the tension in his eyes. “I told you, Rylee, I’m here to collect my winnings,” he drawls. “To collect what’s mine.” He smiles insolently at me, waiting for my reaction.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You owe me a date, Ryles.”
The boys have all turned their attention to us now. The basketball game has been forgotten. Shane is smirking since he’s old enough to sense sexual tension, even if he doesn’t quite understand it.
Colton walks toward me, purposely placing his back to our audience, blocking me from their vision so they can’t watch our interaction. I am grateful when he stops and stands at a respectful distance.
“Sorry, Ace,” I say sweetly so only he can hear me. “Hell hasn’t frozen over yet. I’ll let you know when it does.”
He takes a step closer, his voice just above a whisper. “It seems you know all about being cold, Rylee. Why stay frigid when you know I can heat you up?”
His words take a direct hit at my self-esteem. I seethe anger at his arrogance but know I must calm myself down before I cause a scene in front of my kids.
I break my glare from Colton when something over his shoulder catches my attention. I step to the side so I can get a better look at what it is. I stifle a gasp as I watch Zander, holding his stuffed animal tightly, move slowly around the couch toward us. He has a curious look on his usually stoic face as he approaches.
Colton turns around to see what I’m reacting to. He starts to ask me a question, and I raise my hand up forcefully, telling him to be quiet. Fortunately, he complies. The other boys in the room have all turned to watch, expectant expressions on their faces, for this is the first time that Zander has ever purposely taken the initiative to interact with someone.
Zander walks up to us, staring at Colton, his mouth opening slightly and closing several times. His eyes are saucers. I kneel down to eye level with him. I sense Colton next to me trying to understand my reaction.
“Hi there,” I hear Colton say gently.
Zander stops and just stares. I fear that something about Colton’s looks or something he is wearing has triggered a reaction in Zander. Some negative memory that is forcing him to come see for himself if it’s real. I’m waiting for the fallout to start—the screaming, the fighting, and the terror to fill his eyes.
“Zander. It’s okay, baby,” I croon, wanting to break through his trance, letting him know that a familiar, comforting voice is nearby. I turn my head slightly toward Colton, locking my eyes with his. “You need to leave now!” I order him, afraid of what Zander sees in him.
Against my wish, Colton steps forward and slowly crouches down beside me. I hear his boots squeak on the tile, the house is so quiet. One of the boys must have muted the television.
“Hey, buddy,” he soothes, “How ya doin’? You okay?”
Zander takes a step closer to Colton and a smile ghosts his mouth. My eyes widen. He is not scared. He likes Colton. I quickly glance to Colton, afraid to miss anything Zander does, and he holds my gaze, nodding his head. He understands that something is happening. Something important. Something that he needs to be cautious about.
“Zander is it?” Haunted eyes meet Colton’s, and then he moves his head in a small, discernible nod. I suck in my breath, tears threatening as I watch a small breakthrough happening. “So Zander, do you like racing?”
I can hear the boys in the family begin murmuring excitedly as they realize who Colton is. The boys get louder until they see me staring intensely at them, and then they become silent.
Colton holds his hand out to Zander. “Nice to meet you, Zander. My name is Colton.”
For the second time in three days, I am rendered speechless. My head is reeling from the sight of little Zander slowly reaching out to shake the hand of the man next to me.
I watch the first steps of a little boy breaking free from the devastating grasp of a violent trauma. This is his first time initiating physical contact with someone in over three months.
Colton holds Zander’s small hand in his, shaking it gently. When they finish their greeting, Zander keeps his hand there, with no indication that he wants to move it. Colton obliges and holds the tiny hand, a soft smile on his face.
Tears burn my eyes as I struggle to hold them back. I want to jump up and shout in excitement at this breakthrough. I want to grab Zander and hug him and tell him how proud I am of him. I do none of these. The power of this moment is so much greater than any of these things put together.
“I’ll tell you what, Zander, if Rylee here agrees to the date with me that she’s trying to get out of,” Colton says, never breaking eye contact with him, “then I’ll take you as my personal guest to the track the next time we test. How’s that?”
A ghost of a smile returns to Zander’s lips, his eyes lighting up for the first time as he nods his head yes.
I hold my hand over my heart as joy races through me. Finally! And all because Colton followed me in the house. All because he didn’t listen to me. All because he’s using one of my kids to blackmail me into going out with him. I could kiss him right now! Well, I guess I’ve already done that, but I could do it again. At this point, I’ll do anything Colton asks me to do just to see the smile on Zander’s face again.
Colton squeezes Zander’s hand again and shakes it. “It’s a deal then, buddy.” He releases his hand and leans in closer. “I promise,” he whispers.
Zander’s lips curve into a smile. Small dimples form in his cheeks. Dimples I didn’t even know he had. He slowly withdraws his hand from Colton’s but continues to look at him expectantly, as if to ask when this will take place. Colton glances over at me for help, and I step up.
“Zander, sweetie?” He moves his eyes from Colton’s and looks over to me. “Colton and I are going to go over and sit in the kitchen and plan a time, would you like to join us or would you like to go finish watching the basketball game with the boys?” I ask softly.
Zander’s eyes glance rapidly back and forth over the both of us before Colton in
terrupts. “Hey, buddy, I’m gonna stay right here in the kitchen for a couple of minutes with Rylee. Can you go watch the game for me to let me know what I’ve missed when we’re done?”
Zander nods slightly, locking eyes with Colton, once again gauging if he’s being sincere. He must believe him because he clenches his stuffed doggy tighter and heads back to the couch. Shane’s eyes catch mine, his face blanketed with disbelief before he picks up the remote and turns the sound back up.
I rise from the floor, noticing that all of the boys except Zander have their attention still focused on Colton. It’s not every day that a celebrity is in our house. Colton notices the pairs of eyes on him and gives them a heartfelt smile.
“Don’t worry,” he says to them, “you can all come too when I take Zander to the track.”
A large cacophony of whoops ring out as excitement electrifies the boys. “Okay, okay,” I placate. “You guys got what you wanted. Please turn around and pay attention to the game so Colton and I can discuss some things.”
They obey, for the most part, as we move to the barstools in the kitchen. I offer Colton a seat, and I walk around the island so I can face him. I notice Shane still observing us though, a protective look on his face, wondering why Colton has upset me.
For the myriad of emotions that Colton has made me feel in the week’s time I’ve known him, the gratitude I have for him at this moment trumps them all.
I look up at him and meet his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to keep the tears from filling mine.
“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s only two words, but the look on his face tells me that he understands how much is behind them.
He nods. “It’s the least I can do.” His voice is gruff. “We all have our stories,” he says, more to himself than to me.
“You got that right,” I say, still overwhelmed by the situation. I look over to Zander and smile. He did it. He really did it today. He took a step out from under the fog. And suddenly I feel filled with hope. I feel impulsive from the possibilities.