AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Only a smidge of whipped cream for me, please.” Maggie’s whispered words conjure a picture in my mind that should bother me. The kitchen counter covered in sticky whipped cream and hot chocolate—it wouldn’t be the first time. But again, knowing that Maggie is there, at least nominally supervising, is leaving me relaxed enough to stay in bed and leave them to their bonding.
Rolling onto my back, I give myself permission to relax, just listening to their giggles and whispers through the wall. I can picture Maggie, rumpled from sleep, in my hoodie and sweats, directing Olive from the couch. Her brown hair no longer neatly curled but piled up in a messy explosion on her head, maybe a crease mark on her cheek from her pillow.
I really should go check on her, make sure she’s not putting any weight on that foot. Instead, I let my mind drift back to the sight of her sitting on my bathroom counter, sweater dangling from her fingertips. Those lush breasts hugged by a lacy black bra, a tattoo peeking out from the waistband of her jeans.
My dick, who’d been content to stay asleep until now, wakes at the memory. I keep my hands firmly behind my head, because what kind of sick fuck strokes himself when his daughter is in the next room? But he refuses to settle down, especially when Maggie’s laugh breaks out, quickly choked off by Olive’s shushing.
After torturing myself for another five minutes, I roll off the bed. A shower is what I need to get my head on straight. Of course, the moment I step under the water, images of Maggie in here yesterday come roaring back to me, my dick of a dick going painfully hard.
Giving up on any pretense of being a civilized male, I wrap my fingers around myself and give a satisfying pull. The relief of giving in nearly makes my knees buckle. With long strokes, I keep going, picturing Maggie here with me. Those lips wrapped around my cock, taking me in as the water runs over my back. I come with a low groan, muffled into my elbow.
Panting with relief, I lean back against the shower wall, letting the chilly tile cool me down before I scrub off. Getting dressed in jeans to keep myself under control, I stop to take a deep breath before emerging from my room.
She’s just a woman. Just a woman who did me a favor by watching Olive yesterday, who hurt herself under my watch. Keeping her here overnight was the right thing to do and had no ulterior motives. Just because I find her sexually attractive and my kid is already in love with her doesn’t mean anything. She’s going to leave today and never think about this again, same as me.
When I open the door and find her and Olive sitting side-by-side on the couch, Olive tucked under Maggie’s arm, I am not prepared for the jolt it gives my heart. Nor was I ready for the matching whipped cream mustaches and big grins that are aimed at me.
“Good morning, ladies.” I pointedly ignore the mustaches, instead dropping a kiss on Olive’s head in passing. For a heartbeat, I move to do the same to Maggie, but pull back in time and redirect to the coffee maker. “Have you had a pleasant morning together?”
Olive breaks, snorting as she giggles and getting whipped cream up her nose. Maggie grabs the mug from Olive before I can get there, seamlessly handing it off to me as she wipes Olive’s face off with the sleeve of my hoodie.
By the time my coffee is finished brewing, we’ve got the situation under control and Olive off to her bedroom to get dressed.
“If there’s a second cup of coffee available, I would love some.” Maggie pushes off the couch, delicately limping her way toward the kitchen. The cut on her face looks much better, already scabbing over and the edges a healthy pink.
I grab a second mug and pop in another single-serve brew pod for her. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay?”
Maggie shrugs, her eyes glued to the coffee maker. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent the night on someone’s couch. It was more comfortable in my twenties than it is now.” She looks up, her brown eyes meeting mine. “How did you sleep?”
“Like shit.”
Her eyes go wide at my confession. “Sorry?”
“I wish you’d let me take the couch. I was feeling guilty about it all night.”
“I told you—I’m not taking your bed away from you. Would you even fit on that couch?” She rakes her eyes up and down my body. I don’t think she intended it to be sexy, but it is. The way her tongue slips out to lick her lips, and the way she’s leaning against the counter, her hip cocked to one side to take the weight off her injured foot—it calls out to something buried inside me that I need to pull her into my arms and keep her there.
“I don’t think I would have gotten a good night’s sleep no matter where I was,” I admit. “Cream and sugar?”
Maggie’s forehead furrows at my question before understanding clears her face. “Yes please. I’m sorry if my presence was so disturbing for you. But you know…” She takes the half-and-half from me, pouring a generous amount in her coffee. “If you recall, you were the one who insisted that I stay here. So while you may have felt guilty for not insisting I take your bed, I am absolving myself of guilt for your terrible night’s sleep because me being here at all is your own fault.” She winks and drops a large spoonful of sugar into her mug, stirring it with a smug grin on her face.
“Maggie.” I step closer, our knees almost touching. I’m drawn to her, the need to touch her overwhelming as memories of my fantasy in the shower clamor in my brain. “I’m not mad that you stayed here. But I couldn’t stop worrying about you all night.”
She looks up at me between her lashes, the mug of coffee millimeters from her lips. “I didn’t ask you to worry about me, Kel.”
“But I did anyway.”
The sound of a car pulling up in front of my cabin cuts off any further discussion of guilt versus non-guilt and who should be sleeping where.
“That’ll be my sister.” Maggie drains her coffee. “Hot,” she gasps out, putting the now empty mug down, “but worth it.”
I stop her from limping away with a hand to her arm. “You’re leaving already?” I push back the disappointment that twists my stomach. What am I doing? I have work to do, and she needs to go to urgent care. Did I think that I was going to be the one to take her to the doctor? Maggie is not my responsibility—I have enough on my plate between Olive, Jackie, Greg, and the winery. The last thing I need to do is take on yet another person who needs my help all the time.
And Maggie is a walking disaster that I would be rescuing from herself on the daily. I’ve known her for all of twenty-four hours and believe it’s true.
“I texted her earlier. I promise to go to urgent care, but I need to go home and change first. I’ll bring your clothes when I come back to get my car.”
Before I can think of a reason why I don’t like this plan—a reason that isn’t because I want to be the one to take care of her—Maggie has her dirty clothes in one hand and is hugging Olive at the door.
