I want his kids to eat healthy, but they’re kids, and they deserve something sweet at the end of the day.
As does he, that little voice in the back of my head pipes up. He deserves some sugar.
That’s one naughty, bad little voice.
Matt can eat ice cream with his kids, and shut up about it.
Talking to myself probably isn’t a good sign for my sanity. As if I didn’t know it when I told him I was staying. We’ve been avoiding the elephant in the room, pretending it never happened. Never mentioned it again. What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen, and it’s okay. I’m over it.
I don’t really want to talk about it, anyway, so this suits me just fine.
Really. Just fine.
And it makes no sense why, when I find Adam waiting for me outside my house and suggests we go for ice cream, I immediately say yes.
I mean, he didn’t come back after our last outing. I figured he wasn’t coming back. Not that I’d blame him. I told Matt that Adam is not my boyfriend, and I thought the message had gone through, loud and clear when I refused to kiss Adam goodnight.
You’d think he’d avoid me after that. That he’d be pissed. His masculinity wounded, or something. But he smiles at me as we walk through the quiet streets.
I stare at his smile a moment too long, still thinking of Matt’s faint smile when I told him I was staying. So different, their expressions. I still haven’t put my finger on the difference when Adam asks me how I’ve been.
“Fine,” I tell him. “Busy.”
“Still a nanny?”
“Yeah. I love those kids.”
He starts whistling a tune, his hands in his pockets as we reach the ice cream shop. He only stops when we stand in the small line. “Didn’t think you’d still be working for that guy. He’s a real piece of work.”
“Why do you say that?” I frown at him.
He doesn’t reply.
We give our orders, and I catch Jessica winking at him.
Seriously?
And should I be upset?
Shaking my head, I accept my cone and we walk back outside. I’m quiet. Not sure what to say when he’s not saying a word. Weirdly, he’s smiling again.
“So, no more threatening messages?” I finally ask as we approach the house. “I haven’t seen you around. You’ve been busy, too?”
“Been visiting my sister,” he says.
“Is she okay?”
“Not really.” He swallows his ice cream in three bites, cone and all. We stop at my front gate and this time when he smiles down at me, I think I’ve figured out what’s bothering me about this expression.
Matt’s smile may have been faint, but it was at the same time deep, full of thoughts and feeling. Full of questions and maybe promises. Or so it felt like.
Adam’s smile is steady. Fixed. A bit flat.
Disconnected from his gaze that’s so hard right now I squirm.
“My sister,” he says, “is in pain. The kind of pain I can’t take away, or else I would. She lost someone dear to her.”
I take a step back, my hand flying to my chest. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “So am I.”
The hard look fades for a brief moment from his green eyes. Pain replaces it.
Then he turns away and leaves without another word.
“Go, Tati.” Gigi giggles later on, the window casting moonlight between our beds. “Caught between two tortured men. Torn in two.”
“It’s not funny. And I’m not torn.”
“Oh yeah. Whatever.”
“His sister lost someone. Must be depressed or something. Give him a break.”
“I am. But it’s you I’m teasing, not him. Besides… you’re in love.”
I throw a pillow at her. “I’m so not.”
“Uh-huh. Question is, who are you in love with? Pretty neighbor with the tragic sister or tortured man-bear with a side of asshole?”
“Gigi!” I flop on my back to look up at the ceiling, something I’ve been doing a lot lately. Sleep evades me, thoughts of Matt crowding my mind.
Images, memories of that smile, his voice, his gentleness with his kids… his strong body covering me, his cock moving inside me.
Heat washes over me, pooling in my belly, a deep pulse starting inside me.
Oh God.
“Tati? Why are you blushing?” Suddenly Gigi has jumped out of her bed and climbed into mine. “Don’t tell me… holy crap!” Gigi’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t do it with him, did you?”
With perfect timing, Merc pokes his head through the door right then. “Did what? The ugly deed? And with whom?”
“Merc!”
“That’s my name,” he says easily.
“You’re not supposed to eavesdrop,” Gigi accuses.
“I’m not eavesdropping.” He leans against the doorframe in his Assassin’s Creed PJs and half-closes his eyes. “Have you talked to that Adam guy lately?”
“Yeah. We went for ice cream earlier today. Why?”
He shrugs. “Just wondering.”
“Wondering what, Merc?”
He’s grown so much. I still expect to see the little, gangly, freckled kid he used to be when he enters a room.
Of course his voice often ruins the impression before he even enters. It broke a couple of years ago, and now it’s deep.
Not as deep as Matt’s, though.
And there goes again my resolution to stop thinking about Matt.
Jeezus, Octavia. Get a grip.
“So what about Adam?” Gigi asks, making herself way too comfortable in my bed, grabbing my pillow and pulling it toward her. “You been investigating him, or what?”
“Or what,” Merc says flatly. “I don’t go about playing at being one of those detectives you and Mom like to watch on TV.”
“Homeland?” Gigi sighs and folds her arms behind her head. “Rupert Friend is dreamy.”
Merc sighs and tilts his head back, all but rolling his eyes. “No, Gigi. That’s not even a detective show. Sometimes…”
“Merc, what about Adam?” I press. I shouldn’t care about gossip or whatever it is Merc heard. But I can’t deny I’m curious.
“Tongues wagging about town?” Gigi drawls.
“No, it’s not that. I didn’t hear anything.” Merc looks uneasy. “I’ve heard much more about Matt Hansen than Adam. Like… nobody seems to have noticed Adam moving here, or knows anything about him.”
“Discreet,” Gigi says approvingly.
My turn to roll my eyes. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Adam is hot. I’d go out for ice cream with him anytime.”
“And what about Quinn?” Merc shakes his head. “Wait, forget I ever asked. Anyway, the thing with Adam…” He blinks, shakes his head again. “Actually, you know what? Forget about that, too. I probably made a big deal out of nothing. G’night, gals.”
“Wait!” I jump out of bed as he turns to go. “You can’t leave it like this. It’s unfair.”
I think he’ll laugh and ignore me, but he stops and chews on his lower lip.
“Listen, I may be wrong, but you said Adam lives in old Mr. Collins’s house down the street? Or did I imagine that?”
“No, that’s right.”
Merc nods. “Then why is Mr. Collins still living there with all his cats?”