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“Stop,” I say as I halt mid-stride. “Ben, we need a car seat for Rosie. We have to take the bus.”
He thinks about it for a moment, frustration crossing his face before following us back to the bus stop, where we catch the nine thirty just in time. My hand remains in his grip for the entire trip, his thumbs skimming my skin softly. I watch him without his notice, as he is looking around constantly before his eyes land on me. When our eyes connect, he stares at me for a beat before his lips curve into a large smile.
And if I didn’t know better, I would say he is actually enjoying himself.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - BEN
I sit here on the damp plastic chair, shrieking kids filling my ears and hot chlorinated steam hitting my face. I caught a bus for the first time ever, and even though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, it was yet another thing I wasn’t prepared for. Public transport is not something I have ever had to rely on, and I am frustrated that I couldn’t bring us. I have already emailed Sandra to purchase me a car seat for Rosie, and I will be driving us from now on. Although having Emily close to me for the entire trip was worth it.
I watch a mix of kids and parents flailing around in the water before my eyes rest back upon the woman who has been front and center in my mind for the past month. If someone had asked me a few weeks ago what I thought I would be doing today, watching my fake fiancée swim at the local pool with her daughter would not even enter my mind. But I can’t deny the ferocious feeling I have when I am around Emily; where it comes from, I have no idea. The fact that she has a daughter threw me for a second this morning. Now not only do I have a fake fiancée, but also a fake stepdaughter.
As I sit watching them, I remember Rosie’s painting at school and her telling me about her dad being a bad man. The memory makes my stomach sink like I swallowed lead. This woman, who is smart, sexy, and caring, is also a single mom. I can now see where she gets her resilience, and my protective nature has flared up even more for both of them.
My eyes remain firmly on Emily, who’s currently laughing and playing with her lookalike daughter and some of the other kids from class. I have no idea what I am doing. I have no idea what even possessed me to make her my fake fiancée, but as I look around the perimeter of the pool, I see every man's eyes are on the same woman, and I know now that I have stepped into her world, it is going to be hard to leave.
“Cute kids, aren’t they?” a familiar voice breaks me from my thoughts, and I sit back and look up at George.
“George,” I say as I stand and extend my hand to shake, before he drags a seat over to me and sits down.
“You are on the wrong side of town today, Mr. Rothschild,” George says matter-of-factly, not looking at me, his gaze resting on the kids with Emily in the water just in front of us.
“Well, I thought it would be nice to get to know the place,” I say, my eyes drifting to Emily again as she holds on to Rosie’s waist and helps her float and kick from one end of the pool to the other.
“She’s delicate, you know…” he continues, and I turn my head to look at him. “She comes across tough, but she has been through a lot. She doesn’t need another man to use her and treat her like trash once she’s no longer of use to him.”
I nod in understanding, but don’t reply. My curiosity has already been piqued about Emily’s history, and that comment is only adding to my interest. I want to know everything about her.
“Hi, George. Rosie, George is here now,” Emily says, placing Rosie’s hand on George's shoulder.
“Hey, Grandpa George!” Rosie squeals from beside me, dripping with pool water and pulling off her goggles. Emily is behind her, grabbing towels from the bag next to my feet, so I pull it closer and get one for her too. She wraps Rosie in a towel first as she chats with George, and I wrap Emily in a large towel as soon as she’s done, covering her sexy body in that mesmerizing one-piece from everyone’s eyes but mine. I stand closely behind her, my chest almost touching her back. My palms rub up and down her arms on top of the towel, the need to have my hands on her at an all-time high. Leaning down, my mouth mere inches from her ear, I still smell her lavender scent rising above the chlorine, making my mind abuzz.
“I prefer you without the towel, but for the sake of public safety, best you get changed,” I growl in her ear. If another man looks at her, I will lose my mind. I don’t miss the goosebumps that appear down her neck at my words. I like that she is as affected by me as I am by her. I let my hands run down her arms until they settle on her waist, taking the towel with me to close the gap as she leans back into my chest.
She chuckles as she glances up at me, whispering over her shoulder. “Everyone is in a swimming suit, Ben. No one is looking at me.” Now she is just pushing my buttons; she knows it, and I know it.
“Every fucker in here is looking at you. You are the most beautiful person in this germ-infested place, and right now, I am about ten seconds away from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you home to show you exactly what I want to do to you.” The declaration of how I’m really feeling has her eyes widening and mouth slightly agape.
“Better close that mouth, because looking at me like that is not helping,” I say as I move my hips a little so she can feel what she does to me.
She gasps at that, before she closes her mouth, her cheeks tinting darker, and then she surprises me by purposely bending over to grab her bag off the ground, pushing her backside right into my pelvis. I clench my fists together at her sides and swallow down the groan rumbling deep in my chest.
“Come on, Rosie, let's get changed, and then we can go out for lunch,” Emily says, standing back up and taking her hand before looking at me. Her hair is wet, her body dripping, and my knees are weak as I stare down at her, my balls swollen and no doubt blue. The two of them walk down the hall to the changing rooms, leaving George and me standing next to each other, watching them go.
“So, how did your chat go with Mayor Simplot?” I ask, prodding for information. I feel like I get whiplash, the moment the words leave my mouth. The deep sinking feeling in my gut gets deeper as I move the conversation to business. To what this visit should be all about instead of what I wish it was—spending time with Emily.
“Simplot is as slippery as a snake and only looks after himself. The school will never be at the top of his agenda.”
I nod. “You know Beasley will not stop. When he wants something, he will stop at nothing until he gets it.” I feel the need to warn him. I need them to understand that this is not me. This is not my decision. I am just representing my client. My best client. I have to do this.
George nods. “We will try our best, and our position won’t change. But I am worried for the kids, for the staff, for Emily,” he says, looking at me pointedly. “The school is a very big part of many people’s lives. My late wife and I started it over twenty years ago and have seen many kids thrive who would ordinarily slip through the cracks. We do a lot of good, we help a lot of people, and Emily and I promised my Glenda that we would take care of it.”
George is stern, and I have to admit it has been a long time since I have spoken to anyone so passionate about something that wasn’t bringing them millions of dollars. Being around him and Emily is refreshing.
“He is one of our firm's biggest clients, George. We will try to offer you the best deal we can, but you know how these things work…” Keeping my hands in my pockets, I feel sick, but big business always wins. But he already knows. He knows that Beasley will play every underhanded trick in the book to get that property. He knows he will lose. There really isn’t much I can say, as we are on opposite sides here. George and Emily against Beasley and his contacts and money and my firm. My eyes flick back to the hallway to see if the girls are coming, but it is still vacant.
“I understand. So, you're here today to see Emily personally, or are you here on business?” George asks me, straight to the point, and I need to think about my answer. I go with the truth.
“Both, George. Both.” I sigh, already feeling like a bastard for even admitting it.
