Chapter Four
Logan
Wet Dreams
“Sorry!” I mumble, the sound more like a growl than an apology as I abruptly turn away from the unexpected, and unexpectedly arousing, scene in my backyard. “I’ll get you a towel.”
I step inside, willing my swelling cock to stand down; ignore what I’ve just seen. But I can’t unsee it, no matter how many orders I issue to my treacherous body. The buxom blonde babysitter, all wet and glistening… Fondling her own gorgeous mounds through her shirt, her dark nipples clearly visible beneath the soaked cloth…
What a sight to come home to. With a stab of shame in my gut I realized that I’d rather it were my own hands squeezing those youthful, blossoming orbs, and my errant mind pictures wrestling her down onto the grass, ripping off those shorts and fucking her doggie style, pulling on the wet rope of her hair like a leash while I do it. Damn. I try to shake the obscene thoughts from my head as I search for a towel in the as-yet unpacked linens in the bathroom. I’ve got no business entertaining ideas like that, and especially not about a girl who’s at least twenty years my junior.
I’d checked in Rose’s room as soon as I got home, noting her napping peacefully when I went in search of Quinn. I’d meant to fix the air conditioning unit before we moved in but being so busy at work I just never got around to it. I should have called her when I knew I’d be longer than expected. If I had, she might have been reading a book on my couch instead of taking an outdoor shower to escape the sweltering heat inside the house.
At least I assume that’s what she was doing… unless… there’s more to it than just cooling off? Maybe she makes a habit of going sans bra and pleasuring herself; maybe she’s one of those bad college movie stereotypes, flaunting her own sexuality. Maybe she was even trying to attract me, give a little thrill to the lonely old neighbor who’s in need of some excitement.
Maybe. Not.
Get over yourself, middle-aged single dad with a history of unhealthy relationships. They never end well, and they always end. I find a towel and return to the back door, where Quinn is waiting on the entry mat with her back to me and her hair draping down over her shoulders in sexy wet tangles. I look away as I hand the towel to her. “Sorry I was late.”
“It’s alright,” she says in a small voice. “Is Rose still sleeping?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. Thanks for offering to stay with her.” I go back into the kitchen and start unpacking some of the boxes to keep my hands busy and not think about where else they might occupy themselves. Like in between Quinn’s shivering legs.
“You’re welcome,” she replies, toweling off. Even this innocent action sparks unholy visions in my head—peeling off those wet clothes, rubbing her down like a masseuse then watching her incredible ass jiggle as I snap that wet towel across it. “I’m sorry to make a mess of your backyard. It was just so hot…”
Yeah. It was. Seeing you like that. “I know. The air-conditioning’s not working. I should have called you. I’ll be more conscientious next time.” Next time? Who said there’d be a next time?
“Don’t worry about the yard. Looks like it needs watering anyway,” I say with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the moment and deflect my unsavory urges at the same time.
Quinn’s face turns beet red as she slips on her flip-flops and hands the towel back to me. “I have to go. Hope everything is okay at your work. Goodbye.” She doesn’t look at me as she hurries from the room toward the front door. She didn’t ask for her pay, and I’ve forgotten to stop at the ATM. God, she’s embarrassed as sin. I don’t think there’s a wanton sorority sister in there anywhere, and the sound of her goodbye pierces me like a shot from my nail gun. I don’t want her to leave like this.
“Wait. I haven’t paid you,” I call out.
She stops with her hand on the doorknob, her head down. “That’s okay. I’ve got to go.”
I follow her to the door. “I forgot to pick up some cash. And I just remembered, I have a business dinner to attend tomorrow night. Could you stay with Rose again? I’ll pay you two hundred dollars for both days. Sound fair?”
Quinn chances a glance at me over her shoulder. “Two hundred…?”
“Sure.” I know it’s a ridiculous offer, but I’m making it anyway, to atone for my thoughtlessness. And my own guilty conscience. A student could use the extra money, right?
She shakes her head and twists the knob. “Oh no, Mr. Brenner… I couldn’t take that… it’s way too much. And I have classes the rest of the week.”
Mr. Brenner? It sounded so cold and… subservient… coming from her lips. I didn’t like it. It made me sound like one of her professors at the University. I cringe at the idea I’m likely old enough to be one of them.
“Call me Logan,” I say, with a genuine smile. I want her to trust me, the same way I’m beginning to trust her. Most of all I want her to return tomorrow. “Just two hours, I promise. You’ll be home early. Please?”
Quinn chews her lip as she appears to think it over. The gesture nearly makes me hard again. It’s adorable and sexy at the same time. Please say yes.
“What time?” she asks.
“Uh… is six o’clock okay?”
“Okay,” she says with a curt nod. “Goodnight, Mr. Brenner.”
“Logan,” I remind her. She looks at me and flashes a tiny smile that makes my privates give an extra twitch.
“Okay, Logan.”
“Great,” I say, and exhale a relieved breath. Better. Much better. “See you then. Thanks.”
In a blink she’s gone, the door swinging closed behind her. I move to the window to watch her curvy form jog away from me and over to the large house next door. It occurs to me a student likely isn’t living on her own in a place like that. She must have roommates. If so, I hoped they all weren’t as much of a knockout as she is. I’d be a dead man in no time, having to jerk off every time one of them so much as looked over the fence.
But my hopeful cock retreats to stand-by mode as I consider the other likelihood—she’s still living with her parents. Now I really feel like a lecherous shit, practically bribing a young girl, luring her out from under the watchful eyes of Mom and Dad with a piece of candy. But I really do need a sitter tomorrow, and I don’t want to ask Lila. She won’t approve of where I’m going.
I’d told a white lie; it’s not a business dinner, but it does involve some unfinished business. And unlike Quinn, it’s with the last person I ever want to see again. The last person I ever want Rose to see again. I wonder if I’ll even recognize her after all this time. Four years could change a lot of things, but I doubted it had changed Jolene; at least not for the better. I’d closed my heart at the same moment she’d closed the door on me… on us. Me and Rose. And I never planned to open it again.
But no matter how thick the barrier, a sliver of light can still seep in. The warm sunny kind, like the light reflecting off Quinn’s crown of golden hair right now, that tricks you into thinking it’s springtime again; lures you into opening it just that little crack. Only to be met with the bitter wind of betrayal and loneliness. No. That door has to stay bolted and barred.
I’m no spring chicken. And I never want to experience another winter of being abandoned by the very people who should have been my shelter. First my mother, then the mother of my child. Hadn’t two killing touches of frost been enough to deaden the seeds of hope and trust? Bury them so deep no ray of sunshine or drop of moisture could reach them?
I can deny it all I want, but I’ve worked outdoors in the elements long enough to know I can’t fight nature. Maybe the old saying is true. Hope springs eternal.