“Dadda,” Max says again, and Monty puts him on the mattress, allowing him to crawl over to us.
“Hi, Maxie.” My voice is all morning rasp as he climbs over my torso. “I missed you last night.”
He settles on my stomach, head on my chest, looking at a sleeping Miller. I wrap an arm around his little body so I’ve got them both as he cautiously reaches out to touch her septum ring. His tiny touch is enough to wake her and, as she opens her eyes, she looks right at my son, a sleepy smile blooming on her lips.
“Morning, Bug.”
He smiles right back at her.
This moment would be a whole lot sweeter, the two of them cozy on my chest together, if Monty wasn’t still staring down at me.
“Morning, Millie,” her dad says.
Miller whips around, realizing he’s here. “What the hell, Dad?” she asks, quickly covering herself with the blanket, not that there’s anything to hide.
She’s lucky she doesn’t have to deal with a raging boner the way I currently am.
“Ace,” Monty starts, heading back to my room. “I think it’s time we have a conversation.”
“I don’t think we have to do that.”
“Get your ass in here!”
Miller rolls her eyes, flopping over to the other side of the bed and taking Max with her, tickling his belly to keep him occupied while I go get reamed by her dad.
After I handle my business in the bathroom, I meet Monty in my room, closing the adjoining door behind me.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I tell him, finding a shirt to cover up my chest.
“I don’t give a shit what it looks like. What you two do is none of my business but Ace, she’s leaving in less than two months.”
I pause in my tracks. “Why the hell does everyone feel the need to keep reminding me of that?”
“Because I’m looking out for you.”
“Well, you don’t have to do that. I only slept in there because your snoring ass was hogging my bed.”
A smile ticks on his lips.
“I’m serious, Monty. Please don’t waste your time giving me the overprotective dad speech. It isn’t needed.”
He holds his hands up. “This is not that. I just wanted to talk to you because Miller has a life she’s going back to.”
“Jesus, I know.”
“Let me finish,” he says. “Miller has a life she’s going back to, a life she’s worked her ass off for. You two are adults. Whatever you do in your free time is between you two, but I’m asking—no, I’m telling you, if there comes a time where you find yourself wanting to ask her not to go back to that life, that you talk to me first.”
What the hell? I would never ask that of her. I know what this summer is to her. She made it clear last night when she gave me a moment to stop our kiss that she’s simply passing through. She’s got her entire life’s dream waiting for her.
“It’s not like that.”
Monty shrugs. “Keep it in mind. Come to me if that changes for you.”
Chapter 18
Miller
Violet: Not to be the nagging agent, but please tell me you’ve been getting some baking done. You’ve got five weeks until your recipes are due to the magazine.
Miller: Starting today.
Violet: Starting?!
Slicing the butter over my saucepan, I keep the heat low on my single burner stovetop. It’s convenient, having a mini kitchen in my van, but the flames are a bit uneven, heating the pan at different speeds, so though I could brown butter in my sleep, I have to go low and slow when I’m experimenting in my little house on wheels.
We’ve been back in Chicago for a few days, just in time to experience the city’s first heatwave of summer. Only last week it was humid and raining, but now it’s scorching and miserable, and the van is hot as balls with the stovetop and oven roaring. But I don’t have much of a choice than to get to work on figuring out these recipes, especially on the rare times Kai has a day off from baseball the way he does today.
Max is easy, and it’s not that I can’t work while he’s awake and I’m watching him, it’s just that I don’t want to. I like hanging out with him, and I’d rather focus on our time together than stress over my endless string of failures in the kitchen.
Stirring the butter in the saucepan, I watch it melt when a knock at the door shakes my entire car.
What the hell?
Kai has never once come out here. He’ll shoot me a text when he’s about to head out the door and needs me to come inside to watch his son, and I can’t think of any reason he’d be here other than—
“Is Max okay?” My words are rushed, my voice laced with panic as I slide open the door to my van.
“He’s good,” Kai says softly, holding up the baby monitor in his hand. “Taking his first nap of the day.”
My exhale is brimming with relief—a new feeling for me. I’ve never been attached enough to worry about another’s well-being, but knowing Max’s story, knowing his mom didn’t want to be in his life, has stirred a surge of protectiveness in me.
Kai stands outside, his bare feet on the concrete path that leads from his place to mine. Loose white tee, shorts that show off how cut his legs are. Backwards hat with those damn glasses. And that smile, smirking and sweet—a new look for the pitcher.
“What’s with the aggressive knock?” I ask.
“It wasn’t aggressive. It was normal. You just live in a fucking car. I barely touched the door and it rocked.”
I lift my brow, a sly smile creeping across my lips. “The van has been known to rock. You should come in and give it a try sometime.”
He shoots me an unimpressed glare. “Please stop talking.”
Kai’s attention falls over my chest and stomach, reminding me that I’m wearing only a bralette with a pair of pants that are thin and loose, not touching any of my skin in this godforsaken heat.
I don’t cover up. Instead, I casually lean my arm on the headrest of the passenger seat, only putting me on display even more, allowing him to look because he wishes he wouldn’t.
“What can I help you with?”
Kai holds up a couple of Coronas. “Brought you your favorite morning beverage.”
“It’s 10 a.m.”
“Too late for you?”
Chuckling, I take one from him. “Not quite.”
“Can I come in?”
My van is meant for one. That one being someone smaller than a 6’4” baseball player. I’ve got a bed, a mini kitchen, and a milk crate I use as a seat or for storage depending on the day.
“I’m not sure where your big-ass body is going to go, but okay.”
“The bed looks good.” Kai ducks his head, walking into my space. He has to fully fold in half to make it the two steps to my mattress where he lays out, his long limbs hanging off the edge.
“You’re right,” I say, pulling my beer to my lips. “My bed looks real good.”
He chuckles, leaning on one elbow, ankles crossed as he props the monitor where we can both see Max sleeping just inside the house.
Kai looks light today. Maybe it’s the day off from the field. Maybe it’s the alcohol he’s allowing himself to enjoy. Maybe it’s the uninterrupted time he gets with his son, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes off him.
“Your butter is burning.”
Well, those words will do it.
“Shit.” I pull the saucepan from the flame as the van fills with that distinctly overdone smell. “Stop distracting me, looking all good on my bed while I’m trying to work. I haven’t burned butter since I was a kid.”
He folds one arm under his head, his smirk all smug before he pulls his beer to his lips.
Kai is a good-looking man. There’s no way he’s unaware of that fact, but sometimes it seems like he forgets. In the weeks we’ve known each other, my comments have gone from making him flustered and fuming to adding a bit of swag to his step. I have no issue hyping the guy up all summer if that’s what he needs.
Turning off the inconsistent flame, I take a seat on the milk crate across from the bed.