Page 61 of Parentmoon

“What if I wanted to go fishing with you?”

Dallas tilts his head and slides his hands closer together on the counter. “Okay, darlin’.” His voice tightens. “I’ll play this game with you.” He exhales. “First, you didn’t ask. But if you did want to fish with me, the ocean isn’t the place to start. There’s a great river near my house in Texas and it’s a good place for beginners. I’ll take you there, instead.”

His answer surprises me. This is the first mention of the future. Not a future for us, but the future nonetheless, because if Michael and Keli did reconcile, Dallas and I would encounter one another again. There’d be holidays and birthdays, and eventually the birth of grandchildren.

How will I look him in the eye, knowing he’s been inside me?

“Fishing is a me-thing, though. I like the solitary time to think and be one with nature.”

What does he think about? With Philip fishing with him today, it couldn’t have been all that peaceful or reflective. My inquiring mind skips over these questions and asks another. “What if I asked you to stay with me today, instead of fishing?”

“Done.” He didn’t even blink. Then he narrows his eyes. “But you didn’t ask that either.”

We stare at each other for another second, caught in this game, until Dallas asks, “Are we done playing what ifs now?”

“I’m done.” My shoulders fall. The stress lessens. It doesn’t really matter that he spent a day fishing with a stranger rather than spending time with me. However, the clock is ticking on our stay in Belize.

“I have a new game to play, then,” Dallas says, watching my face. “I want to see you wearing my fishing hat and nothing else. Let’s shower.”

“I don’t recall that in the list of games I’ve played in the past,” I tease, slipping off the stool and following Dallas into the bathroom, thinking a hat in a shower doesn’t make any sense.

“It’s a new game. Just invented.”

“Now you’re a game designer?” I joke then choke on my laughter when Dallas removes his shirt, giving me my first glance today of his bare chest. He’s so fine with his suntanned arms and that patch of silver and ink hair between his pecs.

“Dragon slayer, game designer, among other things.”

I don’t ask what those other things are. I follow his instructions, which include me standing beneath the spray of the shower, without the hat, touching myself until I almost burst, then I’m flattened to the tile wall with Dallas at my back, and he’s playing a new game with a different title.

“This is called catch and release, where I catch you and release so hard inside you, you never want to toss me away.”

He has no idea how much I don’t want to give him up and that desire has nothing to do with powerful orgasms and sexy games.

Chapter 16

“Mom?”

“Daddy!”

The two voices mingle together in my head before I pry open my eyes. Then, I’m jackknifing upright, tugging the bedsheet tight to my chest. Dallas lays beside me in bed, his barrel chest bare and exposed as the sheet follows me to my seated position.

I do a double take; certain I’ve woken abruptly from a dream. There is no possible way the two people standing at the end of the bed are actually standing at the end of the bed. Dropping back on the mattress, I tug the sheet over my head. My chest heaves as I struggle for air.

This is a nightmare, right?

However, the brightness of the morning filters through the thin layer I’m hoping can shield me from the reality of who is standing at the foot of the bed.

A bed I’m sleeping naked in. Next to a naked man who rolls toward me and slips his arm over my waist.

“Dallas,” I quietly choke. This isn’t happening. Maybe I need to wake him so he can pinch me to see if I’m awake.

“Darlin’,” he hums at my ear, rocking his hips toward my side.

“Mom!” The masculine snap of a familiar voice has me bolting upright again, taking the sheet with me again.

“Michael?” My voice cracks as I push my hair off my face. The heat in my cheeks reaches volcanic levels. After our shower game, Dallas and I skipped dinner with the other guests and had our meal brought to the house. Lounging outside, casually sitting picnic style on the porch, we drank wine and talked long into the night about ourselves. Mundane history that packed forty-something years into hours.

But never in my lifetime, have I been caught in this compromising position by my son. If only the bed could swallow me whole. And then maybe the island could sink into the ocean.