I can’t feel my right foot. I try to move my leg, but sharp daggers of pain stab my toes. I grimace, shaking off the uncomfortable tingling sensation. I must have fallen asleep in a bad position. I stretch my stiff body. One arm is lodged beneath my head. The other is wrapped around something soft and warm. My legs are tangled with something, or rather someone.

A familiar floral scent tickles my nostrils. I know that smell. My heavy lids creak open. The top of Shayla’s head rests beneath my chin. The pale light of the morning sun streams through the blinds, bathing her skin in an angelic glow. There is nothing saintly about the way I feel right now. With my crotch nestled against her backside, I close my eyes again, savoring the feel of her body pressed next to mine. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d have her back in my arms.

I nuzzle my nose in her hair and inhale her scent. This is like old times when we’d first gotten married and neither of us had one red cent to our names. We didn’t even have a bed in our one-bedroom apartment. We made do, sleeping on blankets. Hell, we hadn’t even needed a bed. We fucked in every room of our new place, three, four times a day. Our hunger for each other was insatiable.

I miss those days. I miss the moments when my life was simpler. I miss Shayla. I stroke my palm along the swell of her hip. I can’t stop touching her. My free hand roams over her curvy waist toward her luscious breasts. She murmurs in her sleep and backs up against me, jutting the cleft of her ass against my morning woody.

I nudge her bra strap aside and slide my tongue along her bare shoulder. I’d stripped the underwire contraption from her body last night, but she must have put it back on while I was asleep. No matter. A lacy scrap of material never stopped me from getting what I wanted. And right now, I want my wife. I blaze a languid trail of kisses from the nape of her neck down her spine. Her back is smooth as cream and soft as silk.

I want this woman so bad. I have to do things right this time. Treat her like a queen. Change her mind about me. I remember her words from last night. She’d called me vulnerable. When it comes to her, maybe I am. But that’s only because I’ve done my share of dirt and realize she’s the one for me. I don’t want to lose her a second time.

There is nothing waiting for me but gold-diggers and disingenuous people. Shayla is real. Real enough to reject me. Real enough to curse me out and not care one way or the other how I feel about it. Most women I meet don’t turn me down. They’re too busy stressing about what I will or won’t do for them. Shayla states her intentions up front. I respect her even more for that. For being true to herself. For setting her own conditions and not acting like a victim—even though I’ve victimized her plenty.

I’m glad I found her and asked her to marry me again. I’m burying the old Colt Emerson. I desperately want a new life with Shayla. I said I wouldn’t touch her again unless she asked, but good Lord…

She rolls over and flops her leg over mine, straddling me from the side. My erection strains against my unzipped pants, threatening to shred the fabric. When she nestles her face against my bare chest and mewls against my nipple, I almost come in my pants.

“Colt,” she murmurs, her voice anchored by slumber. She’s talking in her sleep, but I want to wake her up and let her know this ain’t no dream.

“I’m right here, baby.”

Her long lashes flutter. Her eyes open in slow motion. She stares at my chest and then jerks her head up. Her eyes lock with mine.

I brush her parted lips with my forefinger. I don’t want to mess this up with words. I’m afraid to hear her objections. Last night, I’d said enough. Right now, I want to let my actions do the talking. I dip my head and capture her lips in a kiss that I hope conveys all the desire I feel. Her mouth is hot and inviting. The sweet haven I’ve been missing all these years. I cup her face and tilt her head back to deepen the kiss.

She wraps her long legs around me. I palm her backside and grind my hips against hers. I’ve never wanted her more than at this moment. Her slender fingers splay across my chest, sending sparks of fire through my veins. After nearly a decade, we’re together again, about to pick up where we’d left off. Only this time, I’ll be better. I’ll make her scream with desire. Fulfill all of her fantasies. I’ll—

A door slams, jarring me from my salacious mission. I bolt upright, pulling Shayla with me. Within seconds, a familiar figure strolls into view. Raisin black eyes leer at me. A scowl crosses the pouting, adolescent lips.

“How come I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend, but you can bring stray chicks home?”

Cee’s appearance is a bucket of ice water dousing my red-hot ardor. I’ve had many shameful moments in my life, but none worse than having my teenage charge almost bust me in the act of knockin’ boots.

Shayla scrambles for her shirt as Cee stares at her. I take the cue and shove my arms into my T-shirt, too. It’s hard to play the part of father-figure with a six-pack and a half-naked woman distracting from the message.

I jump to my feet and point a finger in Cee’s direction. “Young lady you’ve got a lot of explaining to do! Where have you been?”

She casually drops her backpack on the tiled floor. It’s black, just like her jacket, shirt, sneakers, and jeans. In fact, that’s all the girl ever wears. “I went to see a movie.”

“A movie? Nigel said you had a score to settle.”

“I did. With this guy I know who works at the theater. He owed me ten bucks.” She shrugged. “I went to collect it.”

“Ten dollars? You mean to tell me you were gone all this time for ten dollars?” My stomach roils at the thought of her out all night, being preyed upon by some sleazy pervert. I’m not sure whether to be pissed or relieved that she’s finally home.

I decide I’m pissed. “Ten dollars!” I thunder.

“Colt…” Shayla places a calming hand on my arm.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Cee demands.

“My problem?” The pitch of my voice as it soars into falsetto range. “My problem is I’ve been scouring the darkest, seediest corners of the city, looking for you. I thought you’d been murdered or raped or drugged. I can’t believe I went to jail over ten dollars!”

I flail my hands in the air and growl in anger.

Cee flinches. “Go ahead. Hit me.”

I stand stock-still, not certain I’ve heard her correctly. “Are you crazy? Why would I hit you?”

“’Cause you’re mad. That what grown-ups do when they’re mad. They take it out on kids.”

Shayla steps forward. She’d missed-buttoned her shirt. The slanted alignment makes the last buttonhole flap wildly over her twisted skirt. Though she looks a mess with her hair plastered to one side of her head, she still comes across as empathetic when she addresses Cee. “He didn’t mean it like that, honey. He’s just been worried about you.”

Cee allows Shayla to fold her into her embrace. At first, she doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. But then, she awkwardly hugs Shayla back.

“Who are you?” Cee asks.

“I’m Shayla, Colt’s wife.”

“What theater did you go to?” I demand to know.

“One downtown.” Cee eyeballs me. “You got married? When?”

“We actually got married nine years ago,” Shayla explains. “But we got a divorce after only a few months.”

“Why?”

“I have been worried sick about you! Why are you just now getting home?”

Cee extricates herself from Shayla’s embrace and shrugs as though I’ve asked her something as mundane as which Starburst flavor she likes better. “It was a double feature. I fell asleep in the back of the theater.”

“Jeez!” I slam my palm against my forehead. “You could have been killed. Or abducted.”

“OMG. Chill, dude. You already said that.” She toes off her sneakers. “I’m here. Nothing bad happened to me.”

“You gave us quite a scare,” Shayla said.

“I can take care of myself.” Cee flops on the couch. “Why did you two get a divorce?”

“His brothers hate my guts. They conspired to keep us apart.”

“They do not hate you,” I say to Shayla.

“You’re defending them,” Shayla shoots back.

I give her a pleading look. I’m trying to be a father and lecture Cee, but Shayla won’t let me. Fine. I’ll address her issue. “After last night, you should know where my loyalties lie.”

“Ooh.” Cee wags her eyebrows. “What happened between you two last night?”

I snort. This girl is too young to be thinking about that stuff. “Tell her, Shayla.”

Shayla gives Cee the quick and dirty version of our night, starting with me finding the apartment empty, searching for her, and then ending up in jail.

Cee’s lips pull into a rueful grimace before glancing my way. “Sorry you wasted your time looking for me.”

“Maybe if you’d left a note instead of that cryptic clue, you coulda saved me one heck of a headache. Not to mention my car is still in Impound.”

“That sucks.”

“Kid, you don’t know the meaning of that word right now.” I point a finger at her. “You are grounded from any more movies until further notice.”

Instead of acknowledging her punishment, Cee glances at Shayla. “You’re pretty.”

“Thanks. So are you.”

Cee beams at the compliment. “Why’d you two get married a second time?”

Shayla glances at me. I’m still trying to compose myself. Part of me wants to put Cee over my knee. The other part wants to hug her tight and never let her leave my sight again.

“We want to do everything we can to ensure you have the best chance of getting adopted. That means getting married to give you a family life.”

Cee cocks her head to the side and then flips her long hair over her shoulder. “Is this a real marriage or one of those fake L.A. relationships?”

“It’s real,” I growl. I won’t stand for anyone questioning the validity of my union with Shayla.

“You did all this for him?” Cee asks Shayla.

I answer. “She did it for us. So, we can all be a family.”

Cee props her elbows up and rests her chin in her palms. “I don’t care if Colt’s brothers hate you, Shayla. I like you.”

Shayla shoots her a smile so wide I can almost see every one of her teeth. “I like you, too, Cee.”

I scoff. “Great. Now that we’ve established that you two like each other, Cee, we need to set some more ground rules.”

Cee keeps her gaze trained on Shayla. “You look hungry. Colt has an omelet maker. I make a damn good southwestern omelet.”

I wag my forefinger at Cee. “Language.”

Shayla purses her lips disapprovingly at me. “I wonder where she gets that from.”

No fair. Two against one. In my own house.

Shayla rubs her stomach. “Yes, I am hungry.”

I watch the two of them stroll into the kitchen.

Cee probes, “Where are you gonna be sleeping? I don’t think I can handle waking up every morning seeing you and Colt tangled together on the couch.”

“Um, I hadn’t given sleeping arrangements any thought. I was more worried about finding you.”

“Well, I’m here now. I can help you fix up Colt’s bedroom. It’s so masculine, don’t you think?”

“I sure do.”

“I hope you like lots of shredded cheese in your omelet.”

Shayla’s laugh mingles with the sounds of pots and pans being banged around. “I’m sure I’ll like it however you make it.”

I head toward my room. These females are going to be the death of me.

“Colt.”

Cee trots up behind me. “Thanks for going to jail for me.” She throws her arms around my midsection and hugs me.

I drop a kiss on the top of her head. “I told you to stay put. Remember?”

“I was tired of being stuck here. Besides, like I said, I needed to get my money.”

I hold her at arms’ length and give her a patient smile. “I’m taking care of you now, kid. You don’t need money.”

“I wanted to get you a gift to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t let you pay for your own gift.”

“My gift is you being safe.”

She reaches into her jeans pocket and pulls out a tie pin in the shape of a football. The letters MVP are engraved on it. Beneath it, the words Most Valuable Parent are spelled out.

I choke back the unfamiliar swell of emotion lodged in my throat. I never expected anything like this.

“I know you don’t wear ties.”

“I will, starting today. I’ll get a closet full of them just so I can wear this.”

Her toothy grin warms me from head to toe. “You like it?”

“I love it.”

“Then it was worth me getting in trouble.”

She jogs back toward the kitchen, where she immediately resumes her discussion about omelets with Shayla. I stare at the tiepin, all the while listening to their conversation, enjoying the easy banter between them. There is no doubt the two women in my life will get along great. Shayla has that effect on people. The more time I spend with her, the more I want her around. I still love her. I know she doesn’t feel the same about me. How many times has she told me this situation was only temporary? If she leaves, she’ll break my heart. But even worse, she’ll break Cee’s.