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“Yes,” I send, cringing again. I know my social skills need work, but damn.
A thumbs up emoji appears on the screen.
I don’t know how to take that. Is he upset? I rub my hands over my face.
My therapist would tell me to focus on facts not feelings. I have no proof he’s angry, so I should not assume he is. I cover my face with a pillow and scream into it.
“Okay, enough of that. Get up.” I tell myself aloud.
Next dilemma. What to wear?
I start flipping through the small assortment of clothes I’ve added to the closet in the past couple of weeks. Arguing with myself over what to wear is also stupid. He’s seen me in nothing! Does it really matter what I wear? But yes, it does. Now I’m his daughter’s teacher, I have friends, I will have neighbors at some point. Not that I care overly what people think, but I do want to present a positive impression.
Oh, who am I kidding? I want to look sexy because it’s James, and the tension between us today was not awkwardness because of the surprising situation. It was because I could see the hunger underneath that, and I felt it, too.
Ultimately, I pull on the most comfortable jeans I have. With some hesitation, I choose a cropped, bubble gum colored sweater that has a smattering of tiny iridescent sparkles. Madison had insisted I take it when I bought three pairs of the swingy slacks she made for me.
I haven’t worn pink since I was conscious of colors, but she wouldn’t let me leave without it. “I know you love it. You’ve walked by and touched it five times.” Then she had whispered, “It doesn’t have to be practical. You deserve to feel pretty.” And so, it has tempted me from its padded hanger every day.
Every time I’ve taken it down, I’ve changed my mind and put it back in the closet unworn. But every time, I’ve loved it more.
It’s time to wear it.
Chapter 26
~~ James ~~
I’m early.
Now that the decision is made to meet, I’m resigned. I don’t examine why I sent the text, why it felt so urgent, or why there is now a freight train churning circles in my stomach.
I settle into the farthest booth from the door at Waves & Woks Siam Kitchen. Mr. Chen brings me a Nam Ta-klai, and I sip it, letting the lemon and ginger flavors linger in my mouth before I swallow. It’s a habit leftover from childhood when I wanted to savor the delicious things.
The door pulls open, the wind pushing it wider than necessary, and she’s there.
A dark duster is pulled over a pink sweater that seems to make her fair skin even fairer and the copper tresses she’s pulling over her shoulder even brighter. The motorcycle boots I remember, with the strings tied low, leaving the tops open, are pulled up over the hem of her jeans.
Tight, tight jeans. My mouth waters. I wish it wasn’t inappropriate to yank off her coat and spin her around to see how they cup her ass.
I note her fluid movement down the aisle. Her knee must be completely healed, and there is no sign of bruising left on her face. I had been too shocked to examine her at the school. But I do it now as she slides in across from me.
Those few freckles I’d traced with my fingers are still perched across her cheeks and nose like cinnamon sprinkles. Her hair is left to drape around her, and I wonder if it’s still as smooth as it had felt in my hands, as if I needed to hold it just a little tighter so it didn’t slip away. She’s gripping her phone with both hands resting on the table. Her nails are still natural with the tips not too short and not too long.
Her mouth. God, that mouth. Slightly pouty with a cupid’s bow, her lips are glossy like she just applied some balm. I want that mouth wrapped around my cock. I close my eyes, trying to clear the image.
“I’m not stalking you.”
My eyes jump to hers. The blue rim is miniscule, leaving miles of shining silver to disappear into.
“I didn’t know you even had a daughter. I just wanted to experience the small-town life you described.”
“Were you even going to try to find me?” The words are out before I can stop them. “Dammit. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze softens. “You seemed to have a hard time after we... Well. You know.” A pink flush spreads across her cheeks. “I assumed we’d run into each other eventually, but the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”
“I feel like a pervert lusting after a child.” This rips out of my mouth faster than the last words. I sound angry. I take a breath and make my next words more moderate. “I took advantage of a situation.” I see her shaking her head, but I don’t allow her time to argue. "I think I must be damned, because I want to bend you over this table even now.”
Her shimmery lips drop open, and again I imagine them closing around me.
