Her insinuation was clear, and I giggled. “Your son asked me the same thing.”
“Which son?”
“Well—” I paused. “Both of them, actually.”
“I’m not surprised,” she said drily, making me smile. “They both like to think they’re open-minded, but I can imagine their shudders.”
Before I could confirm her impression, she spoke again. “If I’m wrong,” she said, lifting a hand like a stop signal, “don’t tell me.”
“No.” I chuckled. “You’re right. Both of them cringed.”
“My nieces have both had piercings,” she said, wiggling her head from side to side. “I know some people don’t like them, but I always thought they looked pretty. Though I could do without the bull-ring hanging from Ani’s nose. A little nostril piercing, I think that’s the way to go.”
“It’s called a septum ring,” I said, smiling still. “And if you ever want your nostril done, I can do it.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she mused, finishing up on the sandwiches she was making. “Mike would probably have a conniption.”
“He doesn’t like them?”
“He’s never really said so, but I have a feeling he’d have an opinion if I were to put an extra hole anywhere.”
“I don’t have any piercings, either,” I replied. I’d learned quite differently about spousal reactions depending on the location of the piercing, but I wasn’t about to touch that conversation with a ten-foot pole. “Well, besides my ears. I got those done when I was a baby.”
“See too many of them?” she asked.
“I think they’re beautiful, I’ve just never really felt the urge.” I shrugged. “I have a tattoo, though.”
Before she could ask me where it was, the guys came in from the backyard with a soaking-wet Etta.
“She wanted me to spray her with the hose,” my dad explained as Trevor carried my girl out in front of him in an attempt to stay dry.
“Oh, man,” I said, rinsing off my hands. “Come here, princess.”
“Me wet,” she told me as I took her from Trevor. “Me ’plashin’.”
“I can see that.” I met Trevor’s eyes as he laughed. “She likes splashing,” I said inanely.
“Yeah, I remember. Just not when someone else is doing it, right?” His voice was nonchalant, but his eyes said so much more. They said that he remembered everything about that day, and he was currently remembering very clearly what I looked like in my swimsuit.
“Lunch is ready,” Ellie said, interrupting the silent conversation going on between me and her son.
“I’ll be right back,” I blurted, uncomfortably.
“Wight back,” Etta repeated.
“You’re soaked,” I murmured as I brought Etta into our room. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes.” She nodded while I stripped off her romper and diaper.
“It’s nice having them visit, huh?” I grabbed a sundress and a clean diaper and tossed her gently onto the bed, making her giggle. “You like them?”
“Me wike Twevo,” she replied.
“What about Ellie and Mike?”
“Funny,” she said, her little face serious.
“They are pretty funny.” I got her dressed as she squirmed to get away. “They like you. I can tell.”
“Me funny.”
“Yeah, you’re funny, too.”
She replied with some long string of words that I didn’t understand, but I nodded along, knowing that she thought she was making perfect sense.
When we got back into the kitchen, everyone was already seated at the small kitchen table and my dad had pulled his computer chair from the living room so I’d have a place to sit.
“Little crowded,” my dad said unnecessarily.
“Just the way we like it,” I replied, smiling. I wasn’t joking. If it was up to my dad, we’d always have people over. I was a little less of a social butterfly, but I felt the same way when it came to people we were close to. I didn’t remember how many times we’d had Danny and his family over for dinner and cards, or the whole huge group of my dad’s friends over for a barbeque out back. I loved having the people I cared about around me, joking and laughing and having a good time. It made me feel a part of something bigger, and reminded me that I’d come a long way from the girl who’d had no one but her little sister when the state had come to take us away.
“What do you do, Stan?” Mike asked.
“Body work,” my dad replied, lifting a hand to cover the way he spoke with food in his mouth. “Cars mostly, some bikes. Slowin’ down, lately, though.”
“He’s good,” I chimed in, nodding. “I’ve seen some of the work he’s done.”
“It’s mostly just repairs,” my dad clarified, smiling at me. “But every once in a while I get something cool to work on. Retirees coming in to get their hot rods prettied up.”
“Oh yeah?” Mike said, clearly interested.
I sat back while they carried the conversation, and, like a moth to a flame, my eyes moved to Trevor.
He was already looking at me. His movements didn’t pause while he ate his sandwich and the watermelon I’d sliced, but his eyes never left mine. They stayed constant, full of promises and heat. I’d never met anyone before who could say so much with just a look.
My stomach fluttered as I looked away, but I couldn’t help but glance back at him, over and over, while we sat around the table. Something was going to happen. Soon. There was no way he was leaving California without making good on all the things he was imagining. I was thrilled and terrified in equal measure.
“Mama,” Etta said, breaking the tension that I was sure no one else at the table felt but me. “Me done.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, leaning over to brush the hair out of her face. “You didn’t eat much.”
I started to rise from my seat, but Ellie stopped me.
“I can get her cleaned up,” she offered.
As soon as I’d nodded my agreement, she was out of her chair and helping Etta, leaving me with nothing to do except look at Trevor again. The dads were completely consumed with their conversation about old cars, not paying any attention to us whatsoever when Trevor’s lips turned up at the corners.
“You’re gorgeous,” he mouthed.
“Stop,” I mouthed back, widening my eyes.
I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, but whatever it was absolutely couldn’t happen in front of our parents. Especially not his parents.
“Can’t,” he mouthed back.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop grinning.
“Trevor,” Ellie said, surprising me enough to make me jump. “Do you remember when Henry was this age? I swear, if you cut Etta’s hair into a mullet they could pass for twins.”
Henry’s name was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. At first I was startled, and then I had trouble even drawing in a breath.
From the moment the Harrises had walked through our front door, no one had said a word about Etta’s dad. He was the reason they were visiting. Without him, I wouldn’t have Etta. All of us knew that—it was like the elephant in the room. But I’d mistakenly assumed that they weren’t speaking about him for a reason, so I hadn’t brought him up, either, and my dad had followed my lead.
Having Ellie bring him up so casually after hours of visiting seemed almost like she was making a point. Unfortunately, I had no idea what point she was trying to make.
“There’s definitely a resemblance,” Trevor replied, not missing a beat. “She’s got Morgan’s smile, though.”
“Yeah, she does,” my dad said, proudly. “My younger daughter Miranda’s smile is just the same.”
“Oh,” Mike said in surprise. “I didn’t know you had another daughter.”
“She’s two years younger than me,” I replied, feeling uncomfortable but not sure why. “She lives up in Bend.”
“Going to school up there,” my dad boasted. “She’s gonna be a psychologist.”
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“She wants to be a caseworker,” I clarified. “She’s majoring in psychology.”
“Well,” Mike said, nodding. “We definitely need more of those.”
“Good ones,” I mumbled.
“I’ve never met a bad one,” Ellie replied.
I couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, and I didn’t know when it had started, but suddenly I felt very uncomfortable. I didn’t know what it was. There wasn’t anything in Ellie’s tone that indicated that she was upset, and her expression was completely relaxed, but I could feel the change in her regard. There was something about the way her head was tilted, a sharpness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She was judging me. Judging and finding me lacking in some way.
My palms grew sweaty.
“Lunch was great,” Mike said, sighing happily as he stood up. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, standing, too. I was acting weird and I knew it, but I couldn’t be casual. The entire energy in the room had changed, and I didn’t know why or how to fix it.
Etta began to whine about something, and my dad, God bless him, stood up.
“It’s about nap time, I think,” he said kindly, reaching for Etta. “You getting sleepy, princess?”
“No,” Etta said, curling into him anyway.
“We should probably get back to the hotel for a while,” Mike murmured. “I think I need a nap, too.”
Trevor was the last one to move from his spot at the table. He was watching everything play out with an expression I didn’t recognize but thankfully didn’t say anything. He barely glanced at me long enough to say good-bye.
It only took a few minutes for the Harris family to leave, but they were some of the longest minutes I could remember. The moment the door shut behind them, my dad turned to me with a frown.
“Don’t know what the hell that was,” he murmured as he handed Etta to me, then he wrapped his arms across his chest and mock shivered.
“I’m going to lay her down,” I replied, ignoring his comment.
I needed a moment to process what the heck had just happened. The visit had gone well. Actually, it had gone great. At least for a while. I just couldn’t figure out how it had all changed so quickly, and I was now left with a huge ball of anxiety in my chest at the thought of seeing Etta’s grandparents again.
* * *
An hour later, I was sitting on the back porch with a beer, still trying to pinpoint exactly what had made my spidey-senses go so haywire, when I got a text from Trevor.
You busy?
I glanced at my shorts, bikini top, and the beer in my hand before answering. Etta was still asleep, and my dad had gone to a friend’s house. Did I give him the truth? I wasn’t sure if I was up for a chat.
Not really, I replied after a few minutes of internal debate. His reply was instant.
Good. I’m out front.
“Shit,” I mumbled, scrambling to my feet.
Hurrying through the house, I threw open the front door before he could ring the bell and wake Etta.
I probably should have taken the time to throw on a shirt.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said, taking a small step back as soon as he got a good look at me. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“I didn’t know you were coming over,” I replied.
“I just told you.”
“Yeah, that you were here.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
“I’m sorry,” I replied, acting like I was going to leave him standing there on the front stoop. “We don’t need our carpets cleaned.”
Trevor laughed. “Do those salesmen still go door to door?” He moved closer.
“I don’t know. I don’t answer the door when strange men come knocking.”
“Sure you do.” He grinned. “You let me in.”
“Momentary lapse,” I teased. I took a step back and he took another step forward. Oh, God. Were we really doing this?
“You going to make that mistake again?” he asked softly.
I tilted my head to the side, like I was trying to decide on my answer, and that’s when he made his move. The move.
One long finger slid between my breasts and snagged the string that held my bikini top around my rib cage, just as his head dropped toward mine until our lips were millimeters apart.
“Let me in?” he asked, his breath minty and cool against my lips.
“I don’t know,” I whispered, still playing the game. “I’m not supposed to let people in when my dad isn’t home.”
Trevor groaned as his lips descended on mine.
The kiss was explosive. I knew no other word to describe it. I’d been kissed hundreds of times before, but I’d never felt it all the way to my toes the way I felt it then. The lips I’d watched smile widely, and grin secretly, pressed against mine until there was no space between us.
When his tongue slid against mine, questioning yet completely confident, my knees threatened to buckle. He tasted the way he smelled, like mint and something unique to Trevor.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me off my feet so he could carry me fully into the house. As soon as the door shut behind him, all pretense of civility was gone. I couldn’t have described the thoughts that ran through my head if I’d tried. We were greedy and almost desperate as we tore at each other’s clothes. His shirt dropped to the floor first. My shorts followed. Then his shoes, and his shorts.
Somehow, we maneuvered ourselves to the kitchen table, and I yelped as my ass hit the edge, but neither of us paused. My hands slid into the back of his boxer briefs as his fingers untied the bikini straps at my neck. His mouth tore from mine, but before I could protest, his lips were wrapped around my nipple and he was sliding the bikini bottoms down my legs.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he moved his mouth to my sternum. “Do you want me to stop?”
I jerked in surprise, and tilted my head down to look at him, wondering if he was teasing me. What I found in his expression was completely the opposite of what I’d expected. He was serious. His breath was coming in huge gulps and his body was practically radiating with tension, but he was absolutely still.
It was the moment of truth, the split second of sanity when I could have stopped everything.
“No,” I said quietly, catching his hands and setting them back on my hips when he misunderstood me. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“I’m not trying to rush you,” he said in relief, pressing his face between my breasts, before turning his head and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “We haven’t talked about this or—”
His words cut off as I ran my hand along the side of his face, relishing the scruff of his beard against my palm. Groaning, his mouth moved lower, nipping and sucking at the skin of my belly. When he urged me to turn with the press of his hands, I spun unsteadily to face the table, my hands banging loudly on the top as I felt his mouth move to the curve of my ass.
“I’m—” he murmured against my skin. “You’re—” He didn’t finish his thoughts, instead, he hummed against my skin as his hands moved up the insides of my thighs. My legs began to shake as his fingers moved along my skin, and by the time they’d reached my center, I was bracing my forearms against the table in an attempt to stay standing.
“Trevor,” I mumbled, as one of his hands kneaded my ass and the other swept back and forth lightly against my clit. “Oh, shit.”
“Feel good?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to keep myself from making too much noise. My hips instinctively rocked back toward him and my head dropped forward as his hands slid away and his erection pressed against me through his boxers.
“Yeah?” he asked, gently nudging me from behind.
“Yes,” I mumbled, reaching back to pull at his boxers.
His body moved away from me, and I sighed in defeat, thinking he’d changed his mind. Then, just seconds later, before I could even push myself up from the table, he was back.
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“Condom,” he said, running a hand gently down my spine.
He slid inside me with no hesitation whatsoever. Any reluctance or second thoughts were gone. All we could do was feel, his fingers interlaced with mine on the table and his muscular body pressing and retreating over and over as I followed his movements with my own.
It didn’t matter how we were positioned, or that we were in the middle of my dad’s house, or that my child was sleeping peacefully in her crib. Nothing outside the way his skin slid against mine, and his dark fingers gripped my palms, and his breath trembled against my throat, mattered. It was the best sex, hands down, that I’d ever had.
But once the orgasms had waned and our skin cooled and I stood upright again, recriminations and doubt began circling in my mind with the force of a tornado. What in God’s name had I done?
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Trevor said softly, brushing his hands against my cheeks as I stood there, naked and regretful.
“I need to get dressed,” I replied numbly, almost wincing at the change in his expression.
I slid out of his arms and awkwardly bent at the knees to retrieve my swimsuit bottoms. Unfortunately, that put me at eye level with his cock, which was still semi-hard and covered in a condom. A very full condom. Dear God.
I snapped back up and almost hit my head on his chin. He hadn’t moved an inch as he’d watched me fumble and stare.
“Morgan?” he asked as I stepped away, covering my breasts with my arm.
“Etta’s going to be up soon,” I said, avoiding eye contact and snatching my bikini top from the table.
“You serious right now?” he questioned. He didn’t reach for me, but his entire body shifted as he tried to get me to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, walking toward the entryway, where my shorts were lying in a heap.
“I’ve still got a condom hanging off my dick,” he said incredulously.
“There’s paper towels on the counter,” I replied, deliberately ignoring his tone.
I didn’t watch, but I could hear him as he moved farther into the kitchen. Scrambling, I barely got my top back on before he was in my peripheral vision again.