Paige is around Donny Junior’s age, so I ask Paige questions about her friends and hobbies. Listening to her, I feel the pain of missing my brothers. The night before on the phone, Devin starting crying and didn’t stop for five minutes. My new start in Little Memphis broke his little heart.
When Paige talks to the other kids, I step back and think about my little brothers. I wonder if I could save up enough money to get an apartment, so they could live with me. The idea of Mom moving here doesn’t fill me with warmth. She’d likely spend all her time whining about how far away Donnie was and how he’d never leave his wife now. I’d tolerate her crap, if I could have my brothers close by.
“Bad day?” Ford asks, walking up to me.
I let my gaze take in how wonderful he fills out the gray long sleeve shirt he’s wearing. His hair looks damp and he smells like soap. I can feel his lips on my forehead and I suspect I look like a fool staring at him.
“Just thinking about my brothers back in Hawthorne,” I say, looking away.
“Younger or older?”
“Ten and eight. They’re good kids, but my mom is a flake and I feel guilty for leaving them behind.”
Ford studies my face then reaches out and runs his strong hand down the back of my hair. It’s a simple gesture, but his touch relaxes me.
“Thank you for the roses,” I say, studying my feet. “No one’s ever sent me flowers before.”
“Then I popped that cherry for you. Good to know.”
Focusing my gaze on him, I smile. “I’m happy you’re safe to ride. I’ll keep that in mind. You know, for one day…eventually…if the mood strikes me.”
Ford squints at me. “I can’t tell if you’re teasing or just frigid.”
“Both.”
He smiles. “You okay with the color? Any girl will like red or pink roses. You’re not any girl though.”
I stare at him, wanting everything and knowing none of my hopes are possible. Wearing a sly grin, Ford knows I’m hooked. His grin isn’t overly cocky. Just enough to make me feel like an idiot.
“Your name is Crawford?” I ask, remembering the medical report. “Anyone ever call you Crawfish?”
His dark blue eyes flaring with annoyance, Ford nods. “Yeah until I was in third grade and pounded his ass into the ground.”
“Third grade?” I balk, shaking my head. “I’d have thought you were born a badass. Except it sounds like you took awhile to grow into it. Kinda disappointing to hear.”
“Is that right?” he murmurs, grinning. “Would it help to know I’ve made up for my slow start?”
I share his smile and look over his powerful build again. Summoning all my courage, I slide my fingers over his muscular arm. Ford shifts ever so slightly and I sense he’s surprised by my touch. He recovers quickly.
Flexing his muscle for me, he gets real serious. “An hour of weights plus another one for cardio. Nature gave me the tools, but I have to mold my body into the amazing specimen you’re feeling up now.”
My laughter causes him to reach out and cup my cheek. Seeing a need that scares me, I step back.
“Does your mom live in Blairsville?”
Ford loses his smile. “You hear something about me?”
“Yeah, you’re great in bed and you only care abut your brother.”
“True, but I care about shit other than my brother.”
“Like the club?”
“And my dog.”
I smile. “I hate dogs.”
Ford shakes his head. “Liar.”
“Do you have family other than Pax?”
“I’ll answer if you sit with me on the bench. Talking so close to those kids is making me uneasy. What if I forget my manners and talk about my cock? Jenn will take a carrot shredder to it.”
The kids giggle nearby and I roll my eyes. Ford places his hand on my back and leads me to the bench. I sit as far away from him as possible. When he shakes his head, I grin at his irritation.
“You weren’t tested for cooties, so I’m playing it safe.”
He laughs then instantly hates himself for doing so. I see it written all over his face.
“Tell me something good about your childhood and I’ll move closer,” I say. “Like a reward system.”
“What do you know?”
“Someone told me you were a wuss until third grade.”
Ford laughs. “You’re a tough broad to impress.”
Smiling, I pat his hand. “I know you and Pax spent time in foster care.”
“Does that make you pity me?”
“Do you want me to pity you?”
“If pity leads to you under me with your legs wrapped around my hips then, yeah, I’m a sad sack and want pity.”
I laugh and scoot farther away until my ass is mostly off the bench. “Start spilling.”