Friday
The alert on my phone woke me up from what had easily been the best sleep I’d had in over a week. I could breathe again, I could think again, without the constant worry of finding someone to watch Jamey. Had I tossed and turned a little thinking about someone I absolutely shouldn’t have been thinking of while I stroked my cock? Yes. But I’d gotten some real, serious rest afterward.
The curtains along my windowed wall parted automatically, drawing back and illuminating the room with the fresh morning sunshine. I grabbed my phone from my bedside table as the alarm beeped quietly from somewhere under my bed. Apparently I must have snoozed it too aggressively.
I opened the notification on my phone, my bleary, sleepy eyes not focusing. Immediately, my screen filled with the live video feed from my front door. Sophie stood there, bouncing back and forth on her toes in what I could only assume was nervousness, her laptop clutched in one hand and her sweater clinging to her chest. In the haze of sleep, I watched her for a moment, my eyes devouring every inch of her. Those fucking leggings.
It took me far too long to acknowledge she was there.
Finally, I pressed the talk button on the feed. “Hey,” I said, the gruff of sleep heavy in my voice. Her brows furrowed as she looked for the source of the sound, eyes finally landing on the little camera pointed at her.
“Are you still in bed, Dr. Brady?”
“No,” I lied. I pushed the covers off, my hardened length springing up from morning wood, and brought my phone along as I started my search for literally anything to cover my naked body. “Been up for hours.”
She snorted as she rolled back and forth from heel to toe. “Can you let me in, then?”
I glanced at the time. Shit, it was eight-fifteen. How long had she been waiting? I tapped the screen, unlocking the door with the click of a button. “Come on in, Sophie. Just don’t come upstairs.”
“Gladly.”
Exiting the app, I heard the door downstairs open and close. Down the hall, Jamey’s door opened, and tiny feet padded heavily on the wood as he raced down the stairs. Clearly, he’d been up for a little while, but surprisingly he didn’t wake me up, which was something he usually did.
Sliding on the first pair of boxers I could find, I thought of puppies and baby chickens as I raced to put on my scrubs, desperately attempting to drive away my blaring erection. I brushed my teeth while combing my hair, nearly dragging a toothpaste-laden brush through it, then raced down the stairs in record time.
Sophie stood at the kitchen sink, her back to me, as she chatted with Jamey about what he wanted to do that day. My gaze locked onto the way her leggings rounded her ass, hugging her form so enticingly it was a fucking sin.
“Daddy said there’s a fair. Can we go to that?” Jamey asked around a mouthful of cereal, his bare toes pressed firmly against the marble island in front of him. “Please, Sophie? Can we please?”
“A fair?”
Jamey’s eyes lit up as he noticed me. “Daddy!” He twisted in his seat, his little feet dangling from the high-top chair, and slowly climbed down the way I’d taught him before taking off in my direction. Wrapping my arms around his small frame, I lifted him up, holding him to my chest as he giggled.
“Morning, bud.” I pressed a kiss against the side of his head, just above his ear. “Why didn’t you wake me up this morning?”
“I was busy.”
Busy? I couldn’t help the laugh that crawled up through my chest. Sophie turned to us, wiping her damp hands on the kitchen towel she’d slung over her shoulder. She raised one brow as she took in my disheveled, just-woken-up look.
“What could you have possibly been busy with?” I asked him, burying my nose in the mop of his hair.
Jamey’s voice dropped, so silent I could barely hear him. “I made something for Sophie.”
He made something for Sophie.
I pursed my lips together to hide the smile I knew I couldn’t keep down. He’d warmed to her that much already, enough to make her something? It was probably a picture he colored or some badly folded-up piece of paper he thought looked like a flower. Whatever it was, I knew it’d be adorable. I nearly flinched as I felt something inside of me crack, only a hair, but I shoved it away before it could form into a thought. Jamey had made something for Sophie. He liked having her around, he liked her watching after him.
Would it be so bad if I liked that too?
I pulled Jamey back, over-expressing my surprise with my face. “You made her something?” I whispered. He nodded quickly, ferociously, his baby teeth on full display. “That’s so nice of you. I’m sure she’ll love whatever it is.”
He wiggled his feet, asking to be put down, and I obliged.
“Sophie,” I called, watching as her gaze snapped to me and out of whatever daydream she’d been caught in. “I’ve got to get to work. I’ll pick up some pizzas on my way home—”
“Pizza?”
Jamey’s shriek was enough to make my ears bleed. That boy loved pizza so much he would probably die for it, and I realized the fatal mistake I’d made in my exhaustion—I knew that Jamey wouldn’t shut up about pizza until he got to eat it. Poor Sophie.
“Pizza!”
I grinned as I grabbed my keys and slid my feet into my work Crocs. “Good luck with him!” I called over my shoulder.
————
Ten minutes after I’d walked through the doors of the clinic and settled myself in my office, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew it was Sophie without even looking. I had a patient coming in at any moment, but I couldn’t stop my twitching hand from fishing out my phone. I wanted to know what she’d said, wanted to text her back. I wanted to chat with her.
Jamey won’t shut up about pizza.
Please send help.
I snorted. I really shouldn’t have said anything about pizza in front of Jamey, but my damn filter wasn’t working very well that morning. I quickly shot back a reply.
RIP to your sanity, little voyeur.
Three little dots danced on the bottom of my screen immediately, telling me she was typing out a response. I watched them with far too much anticipation and far too little regard for the fact that my office door had opened. I only noticed when two pairs of shoes appeared in my line of sight, one heeled and one in leather loafers. I pocketed my phone immediately, apologizing for my actions, but I didn’t mean a single word of it.
————
The sun was only just beginning to set as I loaded my Mercedes with three large pizzas. I didn’t know what to get Sophie and knew damn well that my anticipation to see her would only get worse if I called or texted to ask, so I’d gone with my gut and gotten her plain ol’ pepperoni.
Despite having a fairly good day at work—I didn’t have to deliver any bad news and instead only gave good news and good outcomes—it still felt like purgatory. I’d found my thoughts weaving back toward Sophie, thinking about her in my house with my son, looking forward to seeing her when I got home. It was enough to drive me insane. I’d nearly had to jerk off in the toilet at lunchtime because I couldn’t stop thinking about her goddamn ass in those leggings earlier that morning.
As I drove the short distance between my house and the pizzeria, I told myself that I’d make sure Sophie would be out of the house before Jamey went to bed. That left us two hours from the time I walked in the door until she definitely had to leave. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to be alone with her. I didn’t trust myself not to cross that boundary line we needed.
The boundary line I needed.
Jamey was on me the moment I walked through the door, nearly knocking the pizzas out of my hands as he ran into my leg. “Pizza!”
He wrapped his little arms around the muscles of my thigh and calf, securing himself to me, and I walked across the entryway with him standing on my foot for support. Sophie stood in the kitchen, her brown hair a mess and freckles shining in the reflection of the setting sun. She looked exhausted.
“Thank god you’re home,” she sighed, leaning forward on the island and burying her face in her hands. “He’s been nonstop talking about pizza for… geez, it’s six? Ten hours.”
I laughed as I set the boxes down in front of her. “I’m sorry,” I said, my lips tipping up on one side in a smirk. “I thought you were capable of handling a four-year-old.”
The smack she levied against my chest surprised me. “I am. But you sabotaged it.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Sophie. He couldn’t have been that bad.” Jamey unlatched himself from my thigh and ran to his spot at the dining table, practically vibrating in excitement.
“He hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast,” Sophie deadpanned.
“What? Why?”
“He refused to eat until he got pizza.”
I chuckled as I took out a plate for Jamey, loading it up with a couple of slices of cheese pizza and a little dipping pot of ranch. “I’m sorry,” I admitted, actually meaning it. “I won’t tell him we’re having pizza again that early in the day.”
She slid her hands down her face, groaning as she stood up straight. “Thank you.”
“Wine?”
“God, yes.”
————
I’d done exactly what I told myself I wouldn’t. I’d let her stay.
Jamey had spent the entirety of dinner talking our ears off, telling me about his day with Sophie and how much he loved her. They’d played something he’d named tickle monster, which in reality was just hide-and-seek but if you were found you got tickled. They’d apparently also played hair salon, and Jamey had tried to braid Sophie’s hair, thus explaining Sophie’s messy tresses.
He’d been so exhausted from his excitement that he’d passed out on the couch ten minutes after we finished eating. I’d insisted that she could head home as I held Jamey limp and asleep in my arms, but she’d said she wanted to finish cleaning up, that she didn’t feel right about leaving the house a mess. It wasn’t a mess though, and I should have pushed her to go home. When I’d come back downstairs after getting changed into lounge clothes and tucking Jamey into bed, Sophie was on my couch with a new glass of wine in her hands.
I was in serious, horrendous trouble.
“I thought you were heading back to your place?”
She rubbed the skin of her neck, a little blush rushing to her cheeks. It’s just the alcohol. Don’t get your hopes up. “I thought we could, like, chat. Or something. I don’t know.” Fuck.
“You want to hang out with me?” I smirked, plucking my glass from the side of the sink and filling it anew. “You could have just asked.”
She rolled her eyes as I plopped down on the sofa next to her. “I just thought that since I’m spending so much time here, we should probably get to know each other better. I mean, I could be an axe murderer for all you know, and you have me watching your son.”
“Hmm,” I pondered, taking a sip of my wine. “I don’t get axe murderer when I look in your eyes though. Stalker? Maybe. Voyeur? Absolutely.”
Her blush spread further, covering her cheeks and creeping down her neck. “That was an accident.”
“Oh, come on. We both know it wasn’t an accident.”
She went silent as she stared into her glass of wine, watching her reflection ripple in her unsteady hand, before suddenly breaking out in a half-winded giggle. It was odd, seeing her like that. The wall she seemed to have put up had come down half an inch, erasing the uncomfortable tension that was building. “You’re right,” she admitted, hiding her smile behind her glass. “It wasn’t an accident. But it was a mistake, so we can move on from it.”
We should move on from it. So why don’t I want to?
“Can I ask you something, Hudson?”
My gaze locked on hers the moment she said my name. I hadn’t needed to correct her, and I wondered if it was just the three glasses of wine she’d had or if it was something more. Either way, it set off an alert in my gut, a stirring of blood where it shouldn’t go. “Yeah,” I breathed.
“Do you ever think about having more kids? I mean, you work in a fertility clinic. Surely seeing all those happy faces makes you want to feel it yourself,” she said, her blue eyes flicking between my own and my lips. “I know it would for me.”
“No,” I answered, and judging by the flinch she gave, it wasn’t the answer she expected. “I’m happy with Jamey. He’s my entire world, you know? I’d do anything for that little squirt. So I don’t really see a need to change that. Being able to give that good news to my patients is enough for me.”
She nodded as she took in my answer, processing it like she did when she’d realized I’d gotten her pepperoni pizza. That’s my favorite, she’d said. How did you know?
“Have you given any more thought to the fake engagement?” I asked, trying to cut the silence with the first thing that popped up into my mind. “It’s the least I can do in exchange for you watching Jamey.”
She lifted a single brow. “I thought you were paying me.”
“Well, that too.”
For a moment she seemed to get lost in her thoughts again. I’d never wanted to read someone’s mind more in my life as I watched her part her lips, her tongue running across the length of her teeth. “I just don’t know if we can pull it off.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” I lied, putting on my best smile as she looked back at me. I just want to push her buttons. She looks so fucking hot when she’s annoyed. “It’s just not believable. I’m way out of your league.”
Her mouth popped open, her brows furrowing. “Asshole,” she laughed, shifting herself until she was on her knees facing me, the plush cushion dipping below her. “I am so within your league. In fact, I’m out of your league. You wish you could get a fiancée like me.”
“You think?” I chuckled, downing the last of my glass. I was going to need it. “Is that why you flashed me from your window yesterday morning?”
She struggled to keep her laughter at bay, her mouth going into a thin line that tipped up at the edges as she tried to hold it back. “Now that really was an accident.”
Her hand reached out to push me, her body moving too fast for the glass of wine she held. The blood-red liquid tipped over the edge, half landing on my chest and half landing on the black sofa beneath us, creating an even darker patch of dampness.
When I looked back at her, she’d paled. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes wide and her hand stuck in place against my chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god, okay, uh, I’ll clean this up.”
“Sophie—”
“No, no, I’ve got this.” She set the remaining wine on the table and scrambled from her seat, rushing to the kitchen. She came back with a roll of paper towels clutched in her hand, the panic on her face only growing. “I can buy you a new shirt. The couch, though…”
“Sophie, the couch is fine—”
“How much was your shirt? Actually, don’t answer that.” She unspooled a few strips of the absorbent material and balled them in her hand, pressing the wad into the damp patch on the couch. “Just send me a link or something, it’ll be fine.”
Without thinking, I wrapped my hand around her wrist, holding her hand in place against the couch. Her pulse raced below my fingers. “Sophia. It’s fine,” I said sternly, dragging her attention back to me. “I got a black couch specifically because Jamey spills shit all the time. You can’t even see it. It’s fine.”
She blinked in confusion as she slipped her hand from my grasp. I didn’t fight her on it. “Okay, but your shirt, Hudson. There’s wine all over your fucking shirt.” She grabbed another handful of paper towels and pressed them to the drying stain against my chest, and suddenly, my pulse was the one racing.
I grabbed her wrist again, holding her hand to my chest, only the thin wad of paper between her hand and me. She stilled. “I’m a parent,” I said slowly, sitting up just a hair to bring myself an inch closer to her. I could smell her perfume, thin and light, floral. It was intoxicating. “I assume everything I wear will eventually end up with stains. It’s okay.”
“Let me fix it,” she whispered, her eyes flicking between both of mine, her body leaning in toward me.
My hand moved without me telling it to, damning me where I sat, crossing every boundary I wanted. It wrapped itself around the back of her neck, taking in every inch of her soft skin beneath it like it was a script I had to memorize. The baby hairs along the edge of her hairline tickled my flesh, and she gulped, her mouth popping open enough for me to fantasize about filling it.
I pulled her to me, closing the distance between us and pressing my lips to hers.
