Chapter Five
Aaron hammered a nail into the solid oak bedframe, the final touch to the latest project his dad wasn’t able to handle with his arthritis. It had flared up so badly that a few weeks ago he’d called Aaron in the middle of the night, completely panicked. The fact that his dad had never asked anything of Aaron before, mixed with the late hour, had scared the utter shit out of him. Enough so that he’d loaded his suitcase in his truck thirty minutes later and hauled ass to Charleston, taking over his father’s business for the better part of two weeks.
“Thanks again for doing this.”
Aaron jumped, hammering his finger instead of the piece of metal. He hadn’t realized his dad had entered the loft of his workshop.
“Shit.” He brought his throbbing thumb to his mouth. “Dad, don’t sneak up on people.”
His dad’s brows pulled together. “I was calling your name for a solid minute. Lost in that head of yours again?”
Aaron had been distracted ever since he’d closed the door to Jill’s car yesterday. Hell, one night wasn’t enough. It’d been stupid to think that one time could get her out of his system. All he wanted was more. More of her nails raking down his back. More of her arching into his touch. Just the sounds that came out of her mouth could bring him to his damn knees. And there he was, transported straight back to his angst-ridden teen self. Get it together, shithead. It was a one-night stand.
“Mrs. Michaels has a leaky faucet. She came over asking for help, and—” He raised his wrists as an explanation. They were both in braces, ones that wrapped around his thumb as well.
“No problem. I’m just finishing up here. I’ll be over at her house in a few.” Aaron set a nail on the wood, poised to hammer it in.
“Son?”
He paused, looking over at his father. If this was another attempt at a heart to heart, Aaron didn’t have it in him to tactfully avoid it, not after a twelve-hour day of back-breaking labor. “Yeah, Dad.”
“I’m glad you’re here. Missed having you around.”
“Dad…” He trailed off, feeling the all-too-common wave of guilt that came whenever his parents talked about how it was a shame he lived so far away. He’d decided before he left D.C. that he’d hold strong in his decision to live there. His parents had thirty years’ experience to master the art of torture—aka guilt-tripping. The CIA should hire their services. Hardened criminals would fold faster than a shit poker hand. He loved them but needed to start the next chapter of his life without the weight of his past keeping him down. The family business wasn’t something that he wanted to pursue, much to the disappointment of his dad.
“You know this is temporary. I can’t stay here.” As soon as he got the company stable and a solid offer on his father’s business, he’d be back to D.C. to start his job in private security.
“Is that why you’re in that motel? It’s driving your mother up the wall that you’re not staying here.”
He felt like a Grade A prick not staying under his parents’ roof. But that’s how it would start. First, it’d only be a night. Then, a few weeks. And before he knew it, he’d be the creepy thirty-year-old who had moved back in with his parents. He’d worked too hard, seen too much, for his life to backslide.
“It’d be too much on you guys. It’s better this way.” Although, if he did stay here, maybe he could keep a better eye on Jill while he was in Charleston. Not that the woman couldn’t take care of herself.
You should have called her. He almost had, using checking up on her radiator as an excuse. He erased that thought from his mind. Even though she’d offered to cook him dinner, he didn’t take her up on it. Because if he saw her again, he doubted he could keep up his end of the bargain for their one-night stand.
He reached for his phone and saw he’d missed a call from his friend, Sam. He’d been in the service with Aaron and had gotten out a year prior. His roommate worked for Wynn Private Security. Before Aaron had driven down to Charleston, Sam had managed to line up a job for him. All he needed to do was meet with the supervisor and hash out the final details, and the position was his. That had been Aaron’s main assignment over in Iraq, security duty for diplomats, so this was an easy transition. Sure, he’d like to be close to his dad, but there wasn’t really much he could do with his skill set in Charleston.
As soon as Aaron left the workshop, stepping onto the front porch, he dialed Sam’s number.
“Hey, what’s up, man?” Sam’s voice boomed through his phone. Sam had spent the latter part of his career as a drill sergeant and had two volume settings: sleeping and yelling. They’d once gone to a movie on base. Once was all it took to realize that was a big fucking mistake.
“Giving you a call back.”
“How’s it going with your dad?”
He collapsed onto the porch swing and frowned at the thought that this was more comfortable than his bed at the motel. “Not great. He’s let a lot of shit slide. Overbooked jobs. It’s a mess.” He slid a palm over his face and took a deep breath. It’d be weeks before he got the company out from being completely backlogged. With the way this week had gone, maybe months.
“That bad?”
He choked back a bitter laugh. It had been clear exactly what he was getting himself into when he came down to help, but even so, it seemed he was barely making a dent in what needed to be done. “Worse.”
“Does that mean I should turn your bedroom into a gaming room?”
“I might be fully gray by the time I see you.”
“Women dig the salt-and-pepper look.” He paused and then added, “Colton was wondering if you had an idea of when you’d be back in town.” Colton was Sam’s business partner at the firm, which was half the reason they’d been so lax on his start date.
“Should be wrapping up within the next couple of weeks. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Probably for the best. Colton is on this whole ‘family-oriented’ kick. He thinks people with a good ol’ ball and chain will stick around longer. He’s even tried to set me up with his wife’s friend.”
“I’m surprised you’re still employed.” His friend might be a commitmentphobe but that didn’t stop him from bringing women back to his apartment.
“It pays being partner. Plus, I kept my pants out of the equation with that woman. Nobody’s worth screwing with the company.”
“Good man. And thanks again for hooking me up with this.”
“No problem. You taking care yourself down in Charleston?”
“Yeah, met up with my old neighbor.”
“Jill?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” During the long months in Iraq, he and Sam had talked about everything, even about hot neighbors. Sam was the only other person he trusted with that information.
“She still blowing you off like she did in high school?”
“No.” He paused, wondering how much to tell his buddy. He decided on bare minimum, since he liked to keep those thoughts of Jill’s curves beneath his hands, the way she tightened around his cock, all to himself. “We caught up. Had a few drinks.”
Sam’s low chuckle rumbled through the phone. “Good for you. You deserve to have some fun.”
“Hope you’re not running yourself into the ground now that I’m gone.” Sam had helped build the private security firm brick by brick. If he used even half the intensity he had when he was in the service, the man hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night since Aaron moved in.
“I’m getting by. Anyway, need to go. I’m meeting with a potential new client. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
“No problem.” And with that, he hung up.
Aaron stood from the porch swing and made his way to Mrs. Michael’s house. The sleepy coastal neighborhood was devoid of sound, like it was holding its breath. Like it knew what Aaron and Jill had done, and he was about to pay the price. The silence made him miss the hustle and bustle, his fast-paced life in the military. He’d thought he wanted out, to get away from all the stress, but it seemed that peace and quiet left too much time for his active imagination, and too much time to think about a certain brunette who turned his world upside down.
A week. It had been seven full days, and Jill had yet to expunge thoughts of Aaron from her mind. He was ingrained in there, much like when she saw spots in her vision if she caught a glimpse of the sun’s glare—except thoughts of him hadn’t faded. When she wasn’t reading the complete Ramona set with Emily, or chauffeuring her to all the activities at Brighton Prep, her thoughts drifted to that hotel room. To his warm fingers tracing down her spine. To her fingers digging into the bedspread as she begged for him to go harder. She cleared her throat and wrung the water from her dish towel into the sink, tossing it onto the counter with a thwap.
He’d never taken her up on her offer to cook him dinner, which didn’t surprise her, since they had agreed to the whole one-night stand thing, but that didn’t stop Jill from secretly wanting a repeat. Triple overtime would have been preferable. But she was back to real life and mom duty. Fantasy-land would have to stay just that.
She braced her hands on the kitchen counter, waiting for Emily to change out of her dance clothes so they could head out to Sunday night dinner at her mama’s house. Her fingers itched to grab her phone and do some social media sleuthing, but she’d managed to avoid sinking to cyberstalking for an entire week. She could handle another few minutes. What was she expecting to see if she looked at his profile, anyway? There’d be no heart emoji or proclamations that she’d rocked him like an AC/DC song.
You are above this. Plus, Mia and Kate would no doubt have hypervigilance to every damn detail of everyone else’s life well covered. She probably wouldn’t even have to say anything for them to divulge their dark-web-level information.
She busied herself with tidying up the countertop, unfolding a piece of paper she found, and groaned. Emily’s class was going on a field trip to Washington D.C. Seriously, wasn’t first grade too young to be taking an overnight trip? Apparently not. Oh, how she missed the days of Emily’s other school, one that only asked that she participate in a bake sale once a year. That ended quickly when her daughter was sent to the principal’s office for being disruptive. Turned out that Jill’s spawn was really a mini Doogie Howser and she was not being challenged enough in her normal classroom.
Jill looked at the letter again and sighed. There was one too many zeroes in there. On top of that, Emily had just joined the band, which for that fee should at least include a complementary pair of ear plugs for the assault to her eardrums with that dreadful recorder, aka instrument fashioned by the hands of Satan.
She glanced down at the field trip form again and sighed. Damn Grammy’s will and that stupid addendum. That money would really help get her credit out of the shitter.
This is why you should have never trusted a man with your credit card. Particularly a certain one who took it to the ATM, drove to the nearest casino, and went to town at the slot machines while she was in labor. Her credit score was still hemorrhaging years later.
“Mommy, are we ready for Mimi’s house?” Emily came down the stairs two at a time, and she was dressed in all pink, including a pink tutu over her pants. She looked pretty darn cute with the matching boots, like a little fiery ball of Pepto-Bismol.
Jill tucked the bill under a stack of papers and turned to her daughter. Those innocent brown eyes looked up at her. She’d do anything for her daughter if it meant her happiness. That smile and her kindness could melt the Grinch’s heart. “Yes, sweetie.”
“Is Uncle Gage going to be there tonight?”
“No, he’s still in California.”
Her face fell. “Oh.” Jill’s brother was her daughter’s moon and stars. She may not have a daddy, but her uncle was a solid, decent man who was a good model for how a man should treat people.
“I know. I miss him, too, sweetie. He’ll be there next weekend, though.”
Her face pulled into an instant grin. “Can we Skype him later?” she asked, bouncing on her toes. Jill wished she had an iota of her daughter’s energy. To achieve that, she’d need at least twelve more cups of coffee and might attain cardiac arrest before enjoying the perks.
“Sure. We can do it at Mimi’s.”
Emily looked at her, eyes full of concern, and said, “Just don’t let Mimi hold the phone. She always hits buttons.”
Jill suppressed a smile. Her mother’s techno-inability shouldn’t surprise her, and yet, it seemed to be getting worse with time. Although, she did love that her mom started her texts with This is your mother. Every. Single. Time.
“Can I bring my DS?”
Jill bit her lip, contemplating. Okay, sue her. Emily played a few games on her handheld, but sometimes Jill just needed a little silence in the house. If Jill’s brain was fully intact after all the Rocko’s Modern Life she watched as a kid, she doubted the Shopkins game would cause permanent scarring to her daughter. “I think you can manage three hours at your grandma’s without technology.”
Then again, Jill couldn’t last thirty minutes without wanting to bang her head on the dining room table, so maybe she should cut the kid a break. She looked over at Emily again, and those big, brown eyes with a look that put Puss in Boots to shame. Nah. If Jill had to suffer, she was at least going to have a companion. “Nope.”
And just like that, her innocent baby girl morphed from seven to thirteen and executed an eye roll of epic proportions. “Fine.” She at least knew better than to argue with her. Passive aggressive gestures didn’t apply.
She was about to call her daughter out on it, but sighed. Pick your battles. And dammit, she was too tired to fight the Battle of Attitudesburg right now. Instead, she grabbed her purse, gave her daughter a playful tug on her braid, and they both made their way out the door.
They drove across town into the gated community where Jill had spent the first eighteen years of her life. Emily was singing along to Journey in the backseat. Another parenting win in the books.
She pulled into the U-shaped driveway, and her lip instinctively curled as she eyed the pillars and the wrap-around porch. It wasn’t that she resented her mama or her house, but every time she looked at it, it reminded her of all the years her parents tried to get her to be something she wasn’t. She’d never be a lady, at least not in the sense that her mama had tried to imbue in her.
Jill cut the engine, and Emily unbuckled from her booster seat and bounded toward the house. Another Sunday night. Another four hours of digging her nails into her palms and biting her tongue. Not that she didn’t love her mother, but she needed to take her in small doses. Microscopic ones.
She was still contemplating driving away and leaving her daughter there when her mother rapped a knuckle on her window. Jill rolled the window down and peered at Deborah Michaels, self-professed expert on all things Jill Michaels, nosiest person on the planet, and maker of the best cornbread on this side of the Mississippi.
“Are you going to come in or sit in the car?” She crossed her arms and drummed her French-manicured nails along her cashmere-clad biceps. Her wedding ring remained in place, even though Jill’s father had long since passed.
“I didn’t know I had a choice. I mean if you’re offering…” She grabbed for her keys, playing at starting the ignition again.
“Jillian Jane,” her mother warned.
Okay, so she wouldn’t have actually left, but it might have been worth it to elicit the eye-twitch from her mother.
“Don’t worry. I was just looking for my purse.”
“You mean the one that’s sitting next to you in the passenger seat?”
“Ah, yes. That one.” Fine. Jill considered herself a little bit of a tool for messing with her mama, but she figured that if she was going to be subjected to more talk about Grammy’s will the rest of the evening, she’d get in a little teasing beforehand.
“Well, then, I guess you’re all set.” Her mother pulled open the car door and motioned for her to get out.
Jill shook her head and smiled then grabbed the keys and unbuckled her seat belt, grumbling under her breath. At twenty-nine, she’d like to think she was the epitome of class and dignity, and in most aspects she was, except for when her mother pushed her hot buttons. She had a feeling she was long overdue for an epic button-pushing-fest.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. I made your favorite tonight—she-crab soup.”
“Well, why didn’t you start with that?” She could never pass up a bowl. Though it was probably a tactic to lower her defenses and then go in for the kill about Grammy’s will.
Her mama rolled her eyes. Now she saw where Emily got it from. Maybe it was genetic.
Jill kicked the car door shut and joined her mother on the walkway, freshly manicured grass and rose bushes lining the path. Even in a gated community, most people weren’t able to keep up a lush lawn year-round, but Deborah Michaels wouldn’t be caught dead with brown spots on her lawn, water conservation be damned.
They hadn’t even made it to the front door when her mother started in. “Have you given any more thought to Grammy’s will?”
They both walked up the white wooden steps of the porch and through the cheery red doorway. Emily was already walking around with her mother’s cat, Chaucer. The name said it all. The cat was an epic, pretentious douche to pretty much everyone besides her mama and Emily. The cat had to be at least sixteen by now and was mean as nails, except it let Emily carry it around like a baby. Anyone else would lose an eye.
“The money would be nice, but you know I can’t just find someone to marry in two months. That’s impossible.”
“I told you, Edith down the street has a nice son. A lawyer. That’s a respectable profession.” They walked into the kitchen, and Jill froze when she saw a man underneath the sink. Correction: half a man. The guy’s shirt rode up his muscled abs as he fiddled with the pipes. How come handymen never looked like that when she called up the plumber? Then again, her plumber was the balding cartoon guy on the off-brand Drano container, so maybe that was why.
She reluctantly dragged her gaze from the plumber to her mother. A lawyer? Yeah, not happening. She wasn’t some damsel that needed to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. “I’m not marrying a lawyer I don’t even know.”
A clunk sounded from under the sink, and then a voice boomed, “Marriage?”
A head popped out from the cabinet, and she nearly bit her tongue off. Aaron.
Her pulse throbbed in her ears, and she laid a steadying hand on the counter, gripping it to make sure this was real. That Aaron was, in fact, in her mother’s kitchen. Her racing heart didn’t contradict what she saw. “Christ almighty, what are you doing here?”
Her mother gasped, putting a hand to her chest. “Jill.” Her sharpened tone was lethal enough to cut through steel. “Aaron is here because he’s over visiting his father, and he heard I had a clogged sink and offered to help.”
“How very convenient that he was at your disposal.” Her lips twitched at the unintended pun, and she hoped the sarcastic remark would hide the fact that she was, indeed, freaking out that Aaron was here, looking all kinds of delicious in his tight T-shirt and well-worn jeans. And he’d just heard about her stupid conundrum.
“It’s no problem. I was just finishing up a project at my dad’s house.” He shot a polite smile to her mother.
There he went again, doing things that were kind and not expecting a damn thing in return. The gesture did unexpected things to her insides. Something that she couldn’t quite pin down.
Jill wouldn’t classify the past several years as lonely, because she was never alone, but just being in the same room as Aaron made her realize the throbbing, aching need for his company. And yeah, some great sex. Because who didn’t want that?
Aaron stood and turned on the sink, scrubbing at his greased-up hands. “Should be good to go, ma’am.”
He shot Jill a quick, heated look that warmed her cheeks. And other parts.
Not part of the deal! She didn’t know how they were supposed to act now that they were in the same room again, but she didn’t find it particularly fair that he could turn her into a hot mess with one glance.
One night. That was what they’d agreed upon. She erased the thought of Aaron’s solid arms caging her in when he’d taken her up against the wall. The way his quads flexed as he pounded into her. She’d just stopped being sore a few days ago. And now the space between her thighs was clenched so tightly, she worried she might get a charley horse down there. Was that even possible? Yeah, she wasn’t doing a very good job at trying to forget.
“You’re a doll.” Her mother smiled, and Jill knew something was up. Oh, Mama. Don’t do it. “Would you like to stay for some dinner? I bet Jill would enjoy the company.”
Please, can you be any more obvious? If Jill could just hide under the kitchen sink for the rest of the night, that’d be fine by her.
He gave Jill a knowing smile, not helping the situation one bit. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense. You’ve lived right next door your whole life. You’re family.”
“Well, if you insist.” He looked at Jill and shrugged.
“I do. We both do.” Her mother shot her a warning glare, one that used to scare her shitless when she was a teen. Truth: it still sent a shiver down Jill’s spine, but that was because her wrath could send even the Hulk into hiding. Her mother did everything but elbow her, because a southern lady never had to resort to physical harm—it was all psychological warfare.
“Of course. Glad to have you. I’ll set an extra plate,” Jill said.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have dinner with Aaron. She just didn’t know if she’d survive sitting across from him, watching him eat, wondering what it’d take for his mouth to be on hers again. Hormones were going to be the death of her, and she hadn’t even hit menopause.
She swallowed hard and looked to Aaron, who had busied himself folding the towel he’d been using and cleaning up his tools. Nope, this would not be awkward whatsoever. So what if with Aaron she felt more on a visceral level than she had in years? What he’d done to her in a twelve-hour period…the man deserved some sort of prize for that. She stared down at his hands as he dried them on the towel. Long, delicious fingers, nails trimmed neatly. Not only could they fix a drain, but they could…yeah, fix pipes. Ones that had been clogged for an embarrassing amount of time.
Emily busted through the kitchen with Chaucer in her arms, singing an Adele song at the top of her tiny lungs, and then ran out into the den.
Aaron watched her, a smile twitching at his lips. “Is that your little one?”
“Yep, that’s Emily. She’s my awesome kiddo.”
“I can see she’s already surpassed your tone quality,” he mused.
She crossed her arms. “My car-singing ability is beyond measure.” Tone quality meant jack crap when belting out songs in the car.
“Are we talking about a scale that includes sounds that make dogs go nuts?”
“You’re just jealous of my talent.”
“Maybe I am.” He raised a brow, and they stood there in silence for a moment, staring each other down. It’d take four steps to reach him. It’d take another breath to climb him like a tree. She grabbed the kitchen counter and willed herself to stay planted in her spot.
Her mother bustled into the kitchen. “Did you get to see my granddaughter yet? Smart as a whip, that one. Already knows her multiplication tables and is in her second year of Spanish.”
Aaron turned his attention to her mother and Jill breathed a steady stream of air through her mouth. One look from him made her feel like he held her next breath in his hand. “Well, she’s got me beat,” he said.
“On which one?” Jill winked, shaking off the damn nerves. This was her old neighbor. There was no need to be weird with him.
“Smart-ass.” He bit his lip and gave her a wink that sent a lick of heat up her spine.
“Time for dinner, you two. Go wash, and meet us at the table. And for Pete’s sake, be nice to our guest.”
“Of course.” Jill’s brand of sarcasm was lost on her mother, but at least Aaron understood and wasn’t offended by her joke. He gave a knowing smile and grabbed a few glasses of ice water and placed them on the table.
They all sat down, Emily bouncing on her knees impatiently as Jill’s mother ladled out soup. Jill grabbed a biscuit for Emily and plopped it on her plate, passing the bread basket to Aaron. She froze as her hand brushed against his. A simple, light touch had her spiraling back to last week, to the way unrelenting fingers worked her body, taking her past the brink of insanity. His thumb slid along hers for a split second, and she fought back a shiver.
Emily slopped the soup with her spoon and turned to Aaron. “Who are you?” There was no malice behind her question, just curiosity.
Right. Her daughter didn’t know this man. Heck, Jill barely knew him—ten years changed people. She let go of the bread basket, retreating from his touch, and said, “Sweetie, this is Aaron. He used to live next door to me when I was a kid.”
“What happened?” she asked through a mouthful of biscuit.
He grew the fuck up, that was for sure.
“I joined the army.” He ripped his biscuit in half and spread a healthy dollop of butter onto both sides. “Just got out a few months ago and I’m going to be working for my dad for a little bit,” he said matter-of-factly. He took a bite of the bread, and his eyes closed as he chewed. She’d never considered anyone sexy while they ate before, but with the way his lashes fanned over his cheeks and the way the muscle in his jaw feathered every time he chewed, she was willing to reconsider.
Even if he was enjoying the dinner, she couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders stiffened when he’d mentioned his father’s business. It was obvious there was more to the story than he originally let on. How bad off was his company if Aaron had to step in?
“Oh.” Emily shrugged and went back to her soup. Just like that, her curiosity was satisfied.
Aaron turned to Jill. Even though she was staring down at her soup, she could feel his gaze on her, and heat spread from head to toe just from one look. “Tell me more about this will.”
Jill shot her mother a look to keep her mouth shut, but of course she didn’t take the hint. She’d take any opportunity to talk about Jill’s love life, ad nauseam, to anyone who would listen.
Her mother set down her spoon and delicately dabbed her lips with her ironed cloth napkin. It went well with her unwrinkled dress. If there was such a thing as reincarnation, her mother would come back as a can of starch.
“All Grammy wanted in life was to see her only granddaughter walk down the aisle. Unfortunately, that never happened. She didn’t get to see either of her grandchildren marry, for that matter.” Mama shot her a look, and Jill clenched her teeth together until her jaw ached.
She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. In. Out. Only internal screaming allowed in front of guests. Everything about this house made her want to scream. Too formal, too stuffy. She’d suffocated here as a child.
She thought she’d be temporarily off the hook since her brother Gage was currently seeing someone. Abby something-or-other from Hollywood, who he’d met on his flight to New York. Good for her brother that he was in blissville, but she could really use his deflection skills right now.
“Grammy put in her will that if Jill was married by the time she hit thirty, her inheritance would double.”
Aaron choked on his mouthful of soup and brought his napkin to his lips, eyeing Jill. “That seems…” Yeah, there was a reason she didn’t want to tell him about this last week. It was 100 percent crazy.
“Archaic? Misogynistic? Presumptuous?” Jill started. The list could go on. She found at least forty suitable adjectives to describe the insanity of it. Her mama was no longer amused by her thesaurus skills.
Aaron frowned. “Unfair was the word that came to mind, but yes, those work, too.”
“Mrs. Francis taught us that back in the olden days, women were married off and the families were given dowries. Is that what’s going to happen to you, Mommy?”
Jill’s soup went down the wrong pipe, and she started to cough. Her seven-year-old was way too astute for her own good. Because that was exactly how she felt. Like she was some cow being sold at auction.
Aaron, to his credit, didn’t gawk too much, and Jill had a swell of pride as he asked, “What grade are you in again?”
“Second,” Emily said proudly. God, Jill hoped that nobody ever snuffed the spark out of her kid’s eyes. With her determination, she could get far away from Charleston and make a name for herself.
Her mother set down her spoon against the china with a loud clink and pursed her lips. “I think it was a smart thing to add into the will. Bless your Grammy’s soul, she loved you. You’re not getting any younger.”
Jill groaned. For real, could this get any more embarrassing? Let’s just point out the crow’s feet that she just noticed the other day. Or the fact that she may have been slightly more winded during her jog earlier this week. Yeah, no need for anyone else to point out that thirty was just around the corner. Heck, maybe Grammy was right and she was just days away from boob-saggage.
Aaron’s spoon clattered against his bowl, and he sat up taller in his seat, his massive shoulders stretching out. He was deliciously huge, taking up enough space that Jill couldn’t not notice him if she tried. He leveled her mother with a look that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “Jill will always be beautiful, no matter what age she is. If a man can’t see that, he’s an idiot.”
Her mother bristled in her seat, obviously peeved that Aaron hadn’t agreed with her. She was used to the men in her life giving in to whatever she asked. She’d expected that of Gage, who recently grew a backbone in that regard.
Jill turned to Aaron and smiled. “Thank you.”
Spoons scraped against bowls. Knives clinked against fine china. Awkward silence swallowed the conversation as they continued to eat their soup and cornbread.
Aaron took another bite of soup. “This is very good, ma’am.”
Her mother’s spoon rattled against her soup bowl, and she gave a reluctant, “Thank you.”
Yup. Not awkward. Whatsoever.
The rest of the meal was eaten in intermittent silence, Emily sometimes spouting off a random fact she’d learned at school that week. Another ten minutes went by, and Jill decided that sticking her head in the garbage disposal would be less painful than going through another family dinner.
Aaron offered to do the dishes, and they fell into a nice rhythm, him washing and her drying while Emily played out in the den with Jill’s mom.
“I should be going. Walk me out?” he said.
“Sure.” She turned to peek into the den, and both her daughter and her mama were preoccupied with trying to Skype her brother.
She chuckled under her breath as she turned the corner and heard her daughter say, “No, Mimi, not that button.”
They walked toward the entrance, down the narrow hallway lined with photos, ones that hadn’t been updated in over twenty years, with Jill wearing frilly dresses and tutus. Aaron’s shoulders almost took up the entire space from wall to wall. All at once, he turned back toward her, his gaze homing in on her with an intensity that made her toes curl in her boots.
Two steps, and he had her backed against the wall. “You never told me you were in a tight situation with money.”
The space between her thighs slicked with anticipation. Last time he pinned her against a wall… “Why? You propositioning me?” she joked. She wouldn’t take his money, but she sure as hell would be up for another round. Her body was wound tight the entire dinner, and she would desperately love a way to forget all the stress of the day.
“Be honest with me. Do you need money?” His body pressed harder against hers, and she could feel the swelling of his erection against her stomach.
“It’s been a little tight lately.” Try the last seven years. “But I’m doing just fine.”
Two hallways separated them from her mama and Emily. She’d hear someone coming, but at the moment she didn’t give a rat’s ass who saw. His gaze slid down her body in a slow, deliberate perusal that set her blood on fire. “I can’t get you out of my fucking mind. It’s been a week, and I can still hear you screaming my name,” he growled, his warm breath caressing the shell of her ear.
He moved even closer, the wainscoting digging into her back. “Sitting across from you at that table.” His lips were on her ear, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “When you run your mouth, it drives me absolutely insane.”
“Then you must be going crazy every moment you’re with me.”
“I can think of much better ways you could be using your mouth.”
Oh. She liked the way he talked to her, liked to see that his restraint was fraying at the seams just from being around her. “You’d better mind your tongue.”
“Or what?” His lips met the curve of her neck, followed by a graze of his teeth. “Tell me exactly what I should do with my tongue. Would you like me to repeat what I did last week?” His mouth worked down to the hollow of her neck, and her eyes fluttered shut, her brain shutting down.
She couldn’t even get out a coherent word to save her life.
“I’m more than happy to oblige. Just say the word and I will take you to my truck right now.”
What was that sound? Just her brain short circuiting. “I—I can’t.” Right? They’d had an agreement.
“One more night with me, Jill. Give me one more night.” The way he said it, those words holding wicked desire, had her sucking in a shaky breath. His hands roughly rode up her stomach until they palmed her breasts, running his thumbs over her peaked nipples. She was wound so tight, just a few more touches anywhere and she’d lose it.
He tweaked one of her nipples, and she bit back a groan. Seriously, how could a simple touch send her into such a spiral? “Say it, princess. I’m not leaving this house until I get a yes.”
His gaze met hers, mischief blazing in those dark blue eyes. His fingers traveled down to the space between her thighs, and he cupped her heat. If they were alone, she’d let this go further, let him shove up her skirt and push her panties to the side so she could feel his thumb pushing past the scrap of fabric and flicking across her clit.
Your family is in the next room. Cool it.
“I—”
His fingers found the exact spot she was hoping he wouldn’t find. A spot that lowered all defenses and had her arching into his touch. Heat blazed from her cheeks to her toes, and a familiar tightness coiled between her legs.
“Say it,” he growled in her ear.
Stupid. This was so beyond stupid. And yet when she went to protest, the word yes popped out of her mouth. She couldn’t say no to this man when he knew how to press every single one of her buttons.
He pulled back, the sudden rush of cool air a shock to her heightened senses. His mouth curved into a wolf’s smile. “Good. I’ll give you a call.” He gave one light kiss to the shell of her ear, and with that, he softly closed the door as he exited the house. Jill sank against the wall. She was so screwed.
“Let me get this straight. You guys got it on in your childhood home until you said you’d go on a date with him?”
Jill chucked a piece of popcorn at Kate. “I did not get it on. We made out, that’s it.” Like she was going to tell her friends they’d dry humped in the hallway, right in front of a portrait of Grammy. Not one of her finer moments.
“First base. Dude, when you said you were starting from scratch, I didn’t think you were that serious.” Mia snickered.
Kate waved off their friend’s statement with a dismissive hand and said, “So you agreed, right?”
“Yeah, what else was I supposed to do, let him get buck-ass naked in my mama’s foyer?”
“I’d pay good money to see the look on her face if she caught him.”
“Me, too.” In fact, if her daughter hadn’t been there, she might have taken it a bit further. Maybe agreed to Aaron’s offer to take her to his truck. Just being around him made it feel so urgent.
“I still can’t believe he sat down and endured an entire dinner with Deborah Michaels.”
Jake had never once had dinner with her family. Wasn’t interested in getting to know them—made apparent by his disappearing act when Emily was born.
Mia tapped the table, taking Jill out of the train of thought heading straight for the Jake Hate Society. “Oh no, are you thinking about him again?”
“Who?” She took a sip of her drink, washing away thoughts of her ex. He had done one thing right—given her their daughter, but that was the extent of his good deeds.
“Jake.” Mia tapped Jill between the brows. “You get a couple lines right here, and your eye does this twitchy thing.”
Jill absentmindedly smoothed the skin between her eyes. “Does not.”
“It so does,” Kate agreed.
“You guys suck.”
“Because you’re in such a state of duress, I won’t even bring up how well you set yourself up for that sucking comment.” Kate took a sip of her margarita. “Don’t give Jake another thought. Not every guy is going to leave like he did.”
But Aaron was leaving. He’d said so. What was the use of going on another date if all it did was switch her hormones to horny teenager mode?
“Give the guy a chance. He’s obviously crazy about you.”
“Fine. What could one date really hurt?” Right?
“Honey, it’s not good unless it hurts a little.” She lifted a suggestive brow.
“You guys are sick.” But maybe her friends were right. What was wrong with one more night? She started to go down that old road where she put Aaron in the safe category, but she realized that maybe she’d been wrong about that, too. Because the feelings churning inside her were anything but safe.