Chapter Sixteen
Dean
It feels great to walk back into my own domain, but the longing to have Payton in my arms again doesn’t go unnoticed. The house is empty, but not for long. Bri will be home soon, which leaves me just enough time to unpack my bag and start a load of laundry. Yet, when I take my dirty clothes from my trip into the utility room, the room is empty, not a dirty sock in sight.
Mom.
I smile as I separate my darks from my whites, and get my suit and pants ready to go to the dry cleaners tomorrow. I shouldn’t be surprised, but the house is practically spotless. Mom always cleans the kitchen and gets dinner going for me when she stays with Bri on my late work nights, and today isn’t any different, even though it’s a Friday. There are chicken breasts marinating in the fridge, with sweet potatoes and green beans on the counter.
There are a handful of things I could do before my daughter comes home, but there’s only one thing holding my attention and it isn’t prepping the grill for supper. The only thing I can think about is Payton Summer. Her scent, her smile and laugh, the way her brown hair fluttered in the breeze while we walked through the park, the look on her face when pleasure steamrolled her body and she came on my cock. It’s all there in spades, replaying in bright porno Technicolor.
Of course, the only thing that seems to do is cause my pants to tighten and my cock to throb. But, hell, that has been a natural response since the first moment I laid eyes on her. She was wearing her hair in a high ponytail and her cheeks were flushed from being in and out of the summer heat. I remember the succulent curve of her hips and how those tight khakis she wore for work molded to her ass like a second skin. Her name was written across the file set on the conference room table, but when I saw her rush into the room, she stole my breath and my sanity, and I couldn’t have repeated the name typed across the folder if my life depended on it.
She was that amazing.
And that was before I knew her.
Before I realize it, I’ve lost track of time and it’s well after four. Time to grab Bri from the sitter’s house. I walk down the block and didn’t even get my hand raised to knock on the hard wooden door when it flies open and my gorgeous five-year-old little girl smiles a wide toothless grin at me.
“Daddy!” There’s no greater sound.
I barely have time to step inside before she launches herself into my arms. I inhale the scent of the shampoo I’ve bought for her since she moved on from the baby kind. I realize I’m being a total sappy schmuck right now, especially since it’s only been three nights since I last saw my daughter, but I don’t care. I missed the hell out of her.
“Hi, pumpkin! Did you have a good day at school?”
“Yep! I missed you!”
“Well, I missed you so much,” I add with a chuckle.
“Can we go home? I have to show you the new pictures I made you while you were gone for work. And Mimi is coming over to cook and eat with us.” After setting her down, she runs over and grabs her jacket and book bag from the hook by the front door.
“She’s been talking nonstop since she got off the bus about your return home tonight,” Nancy says from the doorway to the living room.
“I’ve been pretty excited to see her too,” I reply with a smile as I dig money out of my wallet to pay her for her time this week.
Nancy takes the bills and helps Bri slip her book bag on her back. As soon as she’s set, my daughter is out the door and standing on the porch. “I guess that’s my cue,” I say, shaking my head.
“See you next week, Dean.”
With a quick wave, I head out, closing the door behind me, to meet my girl. We walk down the block hand-in-hand, her talking a mile a minute about everything I missed over the last few days. And in the eyes of a kindergartener, everything from gluing, coloring, painting, drawing, writing, and playing is a very important part of the day. So I hear about every detail, and smile the entire time. Even when we get back home, the stories continue while I clean and snip the green beans and peel and slice the sweet potatoes to go on the grill with the chicken.
At five thirty, Mom arrives with a wide smile. She’s carrying a container with something that smells sweet. Cupcakes, if I had to wager a guess because if there’s anything my mom can’t resist, it’s cupcakes with buttercream frosting.
“Welcome home,” she says as she sets her container down on the counter.
“What’s that?” Bri asks from the barstool she’s perched on, coloring.
“Dessert, if you eat all your dinner,” Mom says before placing a kiss on Bri’s forehead.
“Thanks for getting all of this stuff ready for tonight,” I tell her, wrapping the sweet potatoes in an aluminum foil packet with tons of butter and brown sugar.
“I figured you’d be tired from the drive, so I planned on doing it for you.”
“Ehh, I got it. Besides, I enjoy cooking while my assistant makes me pretty new pictures for the fridge,” I add with a wink at my smiling daughter.
Dinner revolves around my daughter’s stories, her drawings, and her stuffed animals. She keeps us entertained and unable to carry much of an adult conversation. We’re used to it, though. Mom and I get to have pieces of talks whenever we can. Like now. There’s something I’d like to discuss, but can’t until after little ears are occupied.
After putting Bri in the bathtub, I finally have my chance.
“So,” I start, trying to retrieve the words I’ve been practicing in my head all night.
“So?” Mom asks, drying the last plate and sliding it in the cabinet.
“Remember the woman I mentioned? Payton?”
“I do remember. I also remember you adamantly denying speaking the name out loud.”
“Well, the thing is,” I stammer like a teenager, “I kinda like her.”
“I figured as much.” Her smile is bright when she tosses the towel on the counter and turns her full attention to me.
“Getting to this point where she’s agreed to go have dinner with me has been…difficult.”
“Difficult how?” she asks, sitting down on the barstool beside me.
“Well, besides the fact that I don’t date clients, which she is, she’s been very unyielding to the idea of dating.”
“But that’s changed?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “We’ve been…friendly.” I swear to God, my face blushes four shades of fuchsia in a three second time span.
Mom’s quiet for a few minutes, which only makes my level of anxiety kick up a few hundred notches. She was the master of the Mom look when I was younger and could make me crack in less time than a CIA interrogator. I start to feel a little hot under the collar, yet the woman across from me is calm, cool, and completely collected.
Shit.
“You know, Dean, if you want to date, I’m more than happy to help with Bri. You just have to ask. And another option would be to find a high school girl that you trust to watch her for a few hours. Single parents have been doing it for quite some time. Just because you’re a single parent doesn’t mean you can’t have a life outside of your child.”
“You didn’t,” I find myself saying before I can reel the words back in.
“Au, contraire, my son. I actually dated quite a bit.”
“You did?”
Mom laughs. Laughs. Right. In. My. Face.
“Not a lot, but enough. When you spent the night at David’s house or when you had scholastic bowl practice after school, I had coffee or dinner with men.”
I swear she grew three heads in that moment. My mom dated? How in the hell did I not know that?
“I just never found anyone worthy of introducing you to. So, go out with Payton, and I’ll help when I can. When you’re ready to introduce her to your daughter, I’ll know that she’s someone special.” Mom reaches over and grabs my hand. “And I really hope you find that someone. You’re a wonderful man with a huge heart.”
“You have to say that. You’re my mom.”
“No, I have to say eat your vegetables because I’m your mom. Everything else I say is the truth.”
* * *
Lying in bed, my phone in my hand, I think about texting her. She mentioned having dinner with one of her sisters tonight, but I can’t imagine her staying out too late. But I also don’t want to suffocate her with my neediness to talk. And I do. I feel the need, the desire, to talk to her. Sure, I wouldn’t mind a little more right now, but we’ve always been good at the normal conversation stuff.
Touching the screen until it’s lit up, I type a few words.
Me: Hope you had a good night with your sister.
A few moments later, I see the bubbles appear on the screen, letting me know she’s writing back. I smile instantly.
Payton: Two sisters, actually. It was Chicago dogs by the Bay. A good night.
Me: Glad to hear it.
Payton: How about you?
Me: Good. Trying to catch up on my files though. Hard to do when I’m thinking of you.
Those little bubbles don’t appear. Why don’t they appear? I wait, holding my breath, for the longest minute of my life until I finally see her replying. Exhaling deeply and willing my heartbeat to slow down, her message pops up on my screen.
Payton: I’ve been thinking of you too. I kinda liked curling up against you the last couple of night.
That’s what I’m talking about! I pump my fists in the air like I just scored the winning basket.
Me: I miss you and your cold toes too.
Payton: My toes aren’t cold.
Me: They are. And the only reason they weren’t cold last night was because you had those little ice cubes plastered against my outer thigh.
Payton: You have hot thighs.
Me: *smirking emoji* You have hot thighs too.
Payton: That’s not what I meant.
Me: I know, but that’s where my mind went. And now I can’t stop thinking about them.
Payton: *flaming emoji* Stop thinking about my thighs. I’m never gonna get to sleep tonight now. Thanks.
Me: Yeah, it’ll be a little hard for me to sleep now too.
Who is this guy? I’ve never used emojis. I’ve never been so blunt and dirty in a text. Hell, I barely like to send texts. But throw in a little insinuating back and forth banter with Payton, and I’m completely outside of my comfortable little bubble. The fact that I’m smiling instead of worrying should be enough to make me panic, but it doesn’t. Instead, I fire off another text.
Me: Be thinking of me later when you’re all alone in bed with your sleeping problem.
Payton: Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.
Before I can send a reply, another text pops up.
Payton: I should get to bed. I have so much work to catch up with at the shop tomorrow.
Me: Good night, Payton.
Payton: G’night. Oh, and Dean? I’m already thinking about you as I start to take care of my little problem. *smirky devil face emoji*
Well, fuck a duck. Beneath my sleep pants, my hard-on is slamming against my stomach, begging to be played with. Mental images of Payton lying in her bed, touching herself as she takes care of her problem are enough for me to get up, lock my door, and do the same.
And my mind never strays from my brown-haired goddess.