Page 6 of Own

She chews on her lower lip, eyes darting between the three of us before finally landing on Scarlett, whose begging continues, only slightly less loudly.

A voice from behind shouts, “She clocks out at five!” We all turn to look at the other woman. I give a grin of thanks.

“We’ll be here at five sharp,” I tell Hester, still waiting for her to take my offered hand. I really need to touch her again.

When she finally does, I pull her up into my body. She doesn’t move away immediately, so I take the opportunity to touch my lips to hers lightly. Just barely. Hardly even a kiss, but I need a taste so damn bad.

Up close, her freckles are more pronounced, and the spattering across her nose and under her eyes makes the sea of green staring up at me even more beautiful—like gorgeous emeralds. Brushing a loose red lock behind her ear, I trail a finger across her jaw before rubbing my thumb along her plump lower lip, pulling down just enough to glimpse her pearly-white teeth and get some of her saliva on the tip.

Bringing the thumb to my mouth, her eyes never waver from my movements, I suck her taste onto my tongue before leaning forward to kiss her cheek and whisper, “You taste delicious,” then pull away and say, “We’ll see you tonight.”

This time she nods, then smiles at the kids when they tell her goodbye.

Picking Scarlett up in my arms, we leave the library, and I realize just how much I hate not bringing Hester with us. The ride home is filled with excited chatter as the kids talk about what they’ll have from their favorite restaurant.

Miles is already groaning in frustration.

CHAPTER 4

Hester

I feel foolish. This isn’t a date. His kids like me, and they simply asked me to join the three of them for dinner. I need to stop worrying so much about what I plan to wear. What I had on at the library was perfectly acceptable.

Glancing down at my feet, I swapped the cute boots for warm, charcoal grey Uggs and added leg warmers. I changed my sweater too. From the green wool one to nearly an identical lavender one. I also tied my unruly red curls up with a bandana.

My phone chimes, making me jump from my mirror inspection. As I grab it off the table next to my bed, I already know it’s Chelsea.

Chels: Let me see the final product!

I knew she’d demand that. We spent the afternoon discussing clothing options, and she insisted I put on the jean shorts and crop top I bought on a shopping trip once. They still have the tags on.

I take a picture and send it to her. She FaceTimes me immediately.

“Come on, have some fun with this!” she shouts before I can get a word in. “He would love you in those shorts. And the top is so sexy.”

I shake my head. “That’s not proper attire for dinner with his kids.”

She rolls her eyes and plops onto her sofa. “Please. I promise you he won’t mind one bit. In fact, I bet he’ll rather enjoy it.”

I wish I had a quarter of her confidence.

“This isn’t a date, Chelsea.” I ignore the cramp in my heart when I say that. I’m not dating material, I remind myself.

“Yes, it is.” She glares at me.

“His kids are coming,” I remind her.

“So? They both love you. Of course he wants them there. He wants you to be comfortable, and nothing makes you happier than kids.” She’s not wrong, but he doesn’t know that.

“It’s not a date,” I insist. Spotting the time at the top of my phone, I bite my lip, trying to tamp down my nerves. “He’ll be here any minute. I have to go.”

Once the afternoon slowed down, I looked up Nathan and Scarlett’s library card information and texted their father—whom I learned is named Cato—to ask him to pick me up at home instead of the library.

“Change first! Be a little sexy for him.” She pouts as I shake my head. “Fine, he’ll just have to love you for you.” At her comment, my brows draw together, but a knock at the door interrupts me before I decipher if that was an insult or not. “Have fun!” She waves and hangs up.

Staring at myself, my nerves ramp up as I wonder if I’m too frumpy, but another knock shakes the thought away. I glance around my little studio apartment one last time, scanning for anything embarrassing, but nothing sticks out. With a cleansing exhale, I brush the imaginary stray hair away from my face and open the door.

“You didn’t ask who was there.” Cato scowls down at me. “Did you even look through the peephole?”