Frayed Silk(6)

He leans forward again. “Well, just FYI … He’s an idiot.”

I can’t help it; I start laughing again.

We finish our drinks, watching each other, me discreetly—though it’s hard to be discreet when his eyes are constantly watching me. “Have you and your husband, ah, talked about it?”

I nod my head. “I’ve tried. He insists that nothing is wrong, that he’s just got a lot going on at work, and that he’s busy. But I know something is definitely wrong. Nothing about how he’s been acting lately has been right.” I shake my head. “What am I even doing? You probably don’t want to hear this.”

He grasps my hand, gently squeezing it in both of his warm ones. I look down at them, unable to tear my eyes away from them. From the way they seem to shield mine protectively yet also hide the evidence of my wedding ring.

“Blondie, I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested. And in case you haven’t noticed these past few weeks, I’m interested. Very interested in you.”

A shaky breath leaves my lips as I raise my eyes to meet his heated gaze. “Why? You’re probably six years younger than I am.”

His green eyes narrow. “I’ll be twenty-seven in a few months.”

“Ho, wow,” I breathe.

“What?” His thick brows pull in.

“I can’t. It’s not … It’s just not something I ever thought I’d do. Besides, I just turned thirty-two, Jared.”

His eyes widen a fraction. “I thought you were in your late twenties, max.”

That makes me smile. “Flattering, thank you.”

“It doesn’t matter, you know. Hey, maybe you just need a bit of fun. Maybe, just maybe,” he says quietly, tilting his head, “I can make you come so hard you’ll forget you even have a husband.”

Holy shit. Yep, my panties are officially damp, and my brain is screaming at me to run, run, run.

But I don’t. I stay seated, shocked and turned on by his audacity.

He chuckles, running a finger over the top of my hand. “You haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?” he asks with a deceptive softness in his voice that I feel all the way down to my bones.

“Jared,” I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one heard him.

“Relax. I’ll help you. Come on.” He gets up, digging out a twenty from the pocket of his black jeans before holding a hand out to me.

I swallow over the boulder forming in my throat.

I can’t do this. Why am I even thinking about doing this?

Shaking my head, I tell him, “I have to go. My children need to be picked up in a few hours.” He takes my hand anyway, helping me up and passing me my purse.

I thank him but release his hand as soon as we step outside into the midday sun.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says.

When we reach my Range Rover, I dig my keys out and unlock it, opening the door and throwing my purse on the passenger seat. I turn around to find him right there. There’s so little space between us that when I inhale, I can almost taste the coffee and the slight hint of mint on his breath. My eyes involuntarily land on his lips. Thin, but tempting lips, I think as I watch his tongue dart out to lick at the corner of them.

“Ummm …” I mumble shakily, having no idea what to do. Back my ass up into my car somehow, or tell him to back up?

I opt for the second option, but before I can get the words to leave my mouth, his lips are dangerously close to mine as he places a soft kiss right beside my mouth. Breath whooshes out of me when he pulls back and winks at me once more. “Later, Blondie.”

I watch, trying to draw air into my starving lungs as he swaggers off down the sidewalk and disappears into the crowd of lunch goers who have filled the streets.





“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Lola says, a little out of breath as she takes a seat across from me.

I drag my eyes from the old couple huddled in the corner of the café. They would probably wonder why I keep staring at them if they’d bothered to look away from one another.

“Don’t worry about it. Here”—I nudge her latte toward her—“I ordered for you.”

She smiles. “Oh, I knew I dubbed you my best friend for a reason.” She picks it up and takes a sip, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly as she visibly relaxes in her chair.

“So”—she puts her mug down, rubbing her palms together—“what’s up? Your text had me worried.”

I take a sip of my half-finished coffee, wondering if I should even say anything about it. A part of me thinks that maybe it’s not a big deal and I shouldn’t open myself up for judgment. But the other part of me knows better, and Lola won’t judge—hopefully.

“The day before yesterday, I agreed to have coffee with Jared after our shift at the shelter.” The words rush out of me in a whisper.

Her eyes widen. “Holy shit. How did that happen?”

I shift my mug around, staring down at it. “Um, well … he got under my skin a bit. Saying how I need a friend or whatever and that I reeked of heartbreak.” I smirk, shaking my head at the memory. “He asked, and I said yes.” I raise my eyes to hers.

“So what’s the problem? It was just coffee, right?” She pauses. “Though I’d be pissed as hell if Trey had coffee with another woman, it could be worse.”