Chapter Ten
Colton
Evie went to prepare a shower for Carter and get him ready for bed, and here I am leaning back on her couch with my ankle resting on my knee like I’m the most relaxed person in the world. The crazy part is that I am relaxed. Me of only a week ago was a commitment-phobe,feeding Cassandra a crap of bullshit about how settling down would ruin our lives. Here I was enjoying a quiet night staying in with a beautiful woman and her cute son. I look around the apartment almost in awe. The place has a homey feel, a woman’s touch. When I was growing up, the house I lived in may have been enormous, and we may have had a maid, but it held no character. This house has style. It’s a home. I like it here.
I feel like I’m having an epiphany on Evie’s couch. Listening to her speak with the utmost conviction about being a mother had me undone. If I found her drop-dead gorgeous before, now I find her delectably sexy on an entirely different level. I like and respect her as a human. It may sound fucked up, but years of therapy taught me I have issues with women, as in I don’t trust them - at all. It has something to do with my mother leaving, no goodbye, not even a fucking postcard over the years, nothing.
When I was a teenager and became attracted to the opposite sex, I realized I needed the ladies for sex, no emotion required. There may have been madness to my method, but it worked just fine until the cream pie throwing bandit in the next room knocked my socks off. Instead of running in the opposite direction as I usually do, I want to stay and ride the wave that is Evie… I realize I don’t have her last name yet.
“Hey.” Her soft voice drifts through the room pulling me from my epiphany. “Carter’s asleep. He had a great night. Thank you.” She comes around the couch only she takes a seat on the opposite loveseat beside me instead of sitting next to me. She’s keeping her distance, and I don’t like it one bit.
“I had fun too, he’s a great kid.” I look at her meaningfully only my thoughts begin to run wild as she sits across from me in the dark room. She dimmed the lights before she went to put Carter to bed. She said if he knew I planned to stay, he would never settle down for bed and I’d find myself having a sleepover with him. Right now, the only thing I was envisioning was having a sleepover with his mom and her writhing beneath me. The rational part of my brain told me that wasn’t happening tonight.
“Thanks.” Her smile is soft and sweet as she watches me. She leans forward, I think to be able to see my lips clearly if I say something. I’m trying to remember to look directly at her when I speak or when I’m with her. It means I’m focusing on her a lot and something about the way we communicate intrigues me more. Light from the next room hits her pale skin, and I’m not sure if it’s the reflection of the light, or if she’s blushing.
“Can I invite you to sit beside me? Or are there certain rules because Carter is here?” I ask, placing each of my arms on the backrest of the couch. She nods and stands from the loveseat and takes a seat close to me, even though I sense her guard is up. Can’t say I blame her with all the speculation about my relationship history reported in the media.
“It was a fun night. Thanks for bringing dinner,” she says, and she’s so close to me that my lips ache to kiss her.
My features straighten as the scent of strawberries waft my way. My eyes warm at the sight of her and I can’t focus on small talk because I need to kiss her like I need air. I want to take things slow. I don’t want to rush whatever is happening between us, but my body is impulsive around her, wanting to ravish every inch of her skin. “I need to know your last name,” I say, maybe to redirect the lust flowing through my body. I know she can’t hear me, but my voice is raspy and filled with so much need as we eye each other hungrily.
She giggles, and it breaks the heat level between us. Thankfully. I have to keep reminding myself to take things slow with her.
“Harper, my last name is Harper. Why?” She sounds a little breathless. I’m glad I’m not the only one feeling this intense attraction.
“No reason, I just want to know more about you. As much as I can,” I say the words as my head drifts closer and closer toward her. “Can I kiss you?” I ask because I can’t take it anymore. No distraction is going to quell my craving to kiss her. My lips practically brush her lips already. She doesn’t say a word as she shifts the few centimeters required for our lips to meet and she seals the deal. Her lips are warm and inviting; the kiss deepens as our tongues come out to play. She wraps her arms around my neck. I hold mine around her back, but it isn’t enough, I still need more, and so I slowly slide her back so that she’s lying on one end on the couch. I lie above her not putting my full weight on her but close enough to feel the swell of her breasts pressed against my chest. My cock is rock solid and looking for friction but I maintain control as I slide one hand under the T-shirt she’s wearing and slip her bra under her breasts. From there I find her nipple, puckered, hard. It makes my dick pulsate as I run my fingertips over her nipple and her breathing accelerates. My breaths quicken at the thought of more, especially when she presses her lower body into my stiff cock and lets out a little moan.
That’s when her eyes jerk open startling me. “I’m sorry. We need to slow things down. Carter is in the next room. He could wake up. It wouldn’t be right,” she murmurs as she slides out from under me and adjusts her bra while sitting upright. She wraps her arms around the center of her body and looks at the floor. Shit, I’ve already fucked up. I’m so out of my element. The ladies I’m with have no problem getting down and dirty in under a minute. I forgot she’s responsible for a child in the next room.
I come around to look at her and tilt her chin up so that her eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away…I just feel…” words are lost on me. I rake my fingers through the strands of my hair.
“I understand. It’s fine. I got carried away too. It’s just been a while for me,” she says, and I like to hear those words from her mouth. I would also like to rectify her situation. She’s pure, real…the mixture does crazy things to my libido which has gone into overdrive.
“How long?” I cock a brow and ask playfully. If I’m not getting any, I might as well taunt myself with thoughts of how pure she truly is.
She giggles. “Honestly, I don’t date much. Between work and spending time with Carter and Jake, I have my hands full. I notice she didn’t give me a straight answer and now I’m wondering who the hell Jake is? “Right. Sorry. Jake is Carter’s father. He’s also my best friend,” she says throwing me way off course.
“Your ex-husband is your best friend? That’s one I never heard before.” I shift uneasily in my seat. Maybe there’s no room for me in her life. I want her but can’t be a third wheel.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s not like that,” she begins. “Jake was my best friend from high school. One night in college we hooked up. I got pregnant, but we weren’t in love. It was just one drunk night that brought us a beautiful gift and tied us together for an eternity,” she explains, and I don’t know why but I know I don’t like Jake and I sure as hell don’t like the jealousy that is clouding my brain either.
“Shit! That sounds romantic, Evie. Is there still something going on between you and Jake? I’d rather you be upfront with me,” I say as years of therapy come pouring out of me. I don’t trust women, and here I am putting myself on the line for a woman that already has a man in her life. I wonder what Dr. Bennett would say to that? She watches me intently, nodding her head as I speak telling me she understood everything I said.
She places her hand on mine. “No, Colton. Jake and I are best friends, always have been. I love him as a friend. He is an important person to me and a good father to my son. I’m telling you because if we end up dating, then you’ll meet him. If I wanted Jake, we would be together now. I wouldn’t be with you here like this. I’m not with Jake because I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him,” she says.
“And what does Jake think about that?” I ask because I’m looking at a smart, sexy, compassionate woman, Jake must see what I see, and she’s the mother of his kid.
She shakes her head. “Jake feels the same. We’ve both dated other people since Carter was born. I’ve met his girlfriends, and he’s met people I’ve dated.”
“I see,” I say skeptically.
“I’ve just never dated anyone that was hearing before,” she admits, albeit hesitantly.
“Really? Why?” My face scrunches up, and my lips twist. She’s throwing me for a loop.
“It’s hard. Talking so much makes me tired. Having to focus on your mouth so much makes me tired too,” she explains, and it makes me feel bad that she’s putting in such a great effort.
“I don’t know how to sign, but I’m willing to learn. I’m a fast learner too. Can you teach me?” I ask because I’m intrigued. I can’t explain it, but her being deaf has me interested not only in her but in an entire segment of the population that can’t hear. That live life silently. I wonder what it would be like, and my excitement to learn grows more. I don’t understand my interest. Is it her? Do I want her that bad? Is it me? I know I like to learn new things. I like to help the disadvantaged but would she see herself that way? I internally chide myself for the insulting thought. Evie is an independent woman. She is doing a heck of a fine job as a single mother. She’s competent, smart and beautiful… I only hope she will allow me to become part of her life.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Too many thoughts are rolling in here,” I point to my head. “I have a lot going on,” I explain.
She crosses her legs and smiles at me. “Tell me. You do the talking. I will watch you.”
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. She wants me to talk. I don’t share my feelings with anyone but Dr. Bennett, and Al at times. I know what she’s asking for and as tight as it makes my chest feel at the thought of sharing my secrets with her, the idea of losing her at this moment scares me more. I can see that she needs this from me and here is my test. My willingness to share. I inhale and exhale slowly.
Whoa. Okay. You can do this Colt… “Well, there is my dad for starters. He’s been running my campaigns ever since I was state attorney,” I explain, not sure this is what she wants to hear but I have to start somewhere. She watches me intently like she’s truly interested. She’s so unlike the other women I’ve dated. Her and Cassy couldn’t be more opposite, and I’ve been off and on with Cassy a long while. “Well, really he’s been running my life since I was a little boy,” I chortle, thinking that she can’t hear me. “I was lucky to have him after Mom left.” I continue, surprised at my willingness to bring up my mom. Was it because she was a good mom? I didn’t know. I felt all kinds of fucked up, but I allowed words to pour out of me, for her. “He became a full-time parent. He was a partner in a law firm and had wanted to enter politics. He had plans to run for the presidency one day but that all changed when he became a single dad. He dedicated his life to me. Sent me to the best schools. Everything I have or am is because of him,” I explain as if I’m reliving all those years. I feel like I’m glorifying my life to this woman and it wasn’t always good.
“You’re lucky you had him,” she says, looking into my eyes.
I exhale, “Yeah, the old man also taught me how to pick up chicks. He’s a real ladies man. Never settled down with another woman after Mom left. It was him and me against the world.” I grin thinking of the past. “We had good times. Things started to change though once I graduated from Harvard Law school.”
“How?” She looks to me with such sincerity it pulls at something deep inside me, and it isn’t because I’m governor. Most of the other women I’m with like my position, my looks are an added bonus. With Evie, I feel like she wants to know the real me. Not many people know the real me. Even my father doesn’t know what makes me tick. Or maybe he does know and doesn’t care.
“I must be making you very tired right now.” I take her hand and rub my thumb along the soft skin of her hand needing to touch her even if the touch is small.
“No, I’m interested. Please continue,” she urges.
“Once I graduated Harvard, my dad became obsessed with the idea of me running for the presidency one day. Every move I made was calculated on his part. I worked for the DA, and Dad saw that as an opening to run for state attorney. I was hesitant at first, but it meant so much to him, I just couldn’t deny him that feeling of satisfaction, not after everything he gave up to raise me. The problem was state attorney wasn’t enough, and so we went for the governorship, and here I am.” I smile, but it feels more like a frown.
“The quintessential American aristocrat,” she says, clearly accentuating the difference between her and me. She was putting up a wall. Dividing us even with my efforts.
“Apparently,” I wink. “Now he wants me to run for the presidency, but I think I’m done. I just want normalcy at this point in my life. Maybe go back to work for the DA. I always loved the law. I just wanted to be on the right side of it,” I explain.
“And yet, here you are paving your way to the presidency,” she grins. I’ve gotten used to her voice. The way she speaks, but since she brought the issue of how difficult regular conversation is for her, it makes me worry. I love talking to her but this… what we are doing now is hard on her.
“Is that what I’m doing?” I ask, but I don’t think I meant to answer her statement. I lift her hand in mine and brush her soft skin with my thumb. She looks at me lazily like she’s ready for bed. “Thank you for listening.” I lean over and press a soft kiss on her cheek. I realize I said listening but it doesn’t faze her, or at least she doesn’t call me on it.
“I like watching you speak. Maybe a little too much,” she admits, pressing her pointer finger to her thumb.
“Thank you,” I squeeze her hand. I don’t think I’ve had such an intimate conversation with a woman before and yet with her it felt so natural. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“How did you become deaf?” I ask, hoping I’m not prying too much even though I feel like I just poured my soul to her. I just feel like I need to know because she can apparently hold a conversation. I just wonder what it all means. I think this is me trying to understand her.
“I developed the flu. It should have been a normal virus, but I developed a bacterial infection that caused me to lose my hearing. I don’t know if it’s related for sure, but my father died when I was two from complications from the flu. He was sick one minute, and then his heart gave out the next. At least, that’s how I remember my mother telling the story,” she says, and I can see the sadness in her eyes, and it pulls at something deep inside me only I don’t know what it is. Something about her story feels familiar, but then again maybe it’s just talking about mothers who leave.
“So, your mom was around when you got sick?” I ask. Then immediately feel the need to apologize. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m not usually so nosy.”
She bites her lip. “It’s not something I talk about, but I think you’re curious because of your mother leaving. I don’t mind sharing.”
“Thank you.” I sigh as her words resonate. I’m somehow relating our pasts.
“Mom was a single parent. We didn’t have much money. My father wasn’t a rich man and didn’t leave much behind. Things were tough, and when I became deaf, I think it was just too much for her. One day she dropped me off at Grandpa Jack’s house. Said she’d be back in a few hours. She was going for a job interview at a clothing store. She never came back.” She seems like she’s trying to smile to hide her pain, but it’s as clear as day. The way her lips have turned down instead are a giveaway. It’s funny how there are certain things you just never get over no matter how much time passes. That familiar pain, the dark hole that resonates in her blue eyes right now feels so familiar, so raw.
“Shit, Evie. I’m sorry, that couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t,” she snickers. “You were a boy raised by a man. I was a young girl being raised by an old man. I didn’t have a woman to explain the basics to me. Then I met Jake in high school, and his mom was good to me. She still is. She taught me the things Grandpa Jack couldn’t. We grew up not having much, but we had each other, and it was enough,” she says, and a sense of contentment washes over her features. I realize I don’t feel the same way. I don’t feel content. I don’t feel like I had enough. I feel robbed in a way, and after being in therapy for over ten years, I still don’t have answers as to why.
“You’re lucky you had them,” I say. “I’m happy for you that you did.”
“They’re my family,” she shrugs.
I sigh knowing she can’t hear it. Family. The word resonates. What is going on with me? My life was smooth sailing until this red-haired vixen beside me threw a pie in my face.