Futures and Frosting (Chocolate Lovers #2)(11)

When we stop at a red light, Carter takes one hand off of the wheel and places it on the inside of my bare thigh.

“You wore that short skirt just to torture me, didn’t you?” Carter asks softly so Gavin won’t hear him from the backseat.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say with a smirk as I cross my legs. The movement forced his warm hand higher up my thigh and his fingers graze just under the hem of the tattered jean skirt material.

I'm not lying when I say I kind of enjoy the fact that Carter and I work opposite shifts. I like the peace and quiet during the week and spending alone time with Gavin. It makes the adjustment from being a single mother to living with the father of my child not so bad. I had spent so many years on my own and having my son all to myself, it was nice we weren’t thrust right into something that was a complete one-eighty from what we were used to. Even so, it doesn’t stop me from missing Carter during the week.

Or more specifically, missing having sex with Carter during the week.

When you have sex once, get pregnant, and then go years before you ever have it again and when you do have it again, it’s mind-blowing and delicious and better than finding a pot of gold, a unicorn, and a leprechaun who shits diamonds at the end of a rainbow, having to wait a whole week in between having this wonderful sex is torture. Just having Carter’s hand on my leg puts all sorts of dirty thoughts in my head - thoughts that have no business being there when our son was in the backseat.

“I think you and I are going to need to make an important phone call tonight,” Carter says with a wag of his eyebrows.

I laugh, remembering the first time we had sex again after the night he took my virginity at the frat party.

When Gavin had knocked on the bedroom door right at the tail end of our reunion (emphasis on union) and then asked us what we were up to, in a panic I told him we were making phone calls. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

I place my hand on top of Carter’s and slide it just a little bit further under the edge of my skirt.

“You missed a lot of phone calls this week while you were at work. I had to take care of them on my own. My phone has a dead battery now,” I tease him.

“Did you record these phone calls? That’s something I’d like to listen to,” he says with a wink before turning his focus back to the road as the light turns green.

“Sorry, the answering machine doesn’t have a battery either,” I joke.

“Probably because you took the batteries out of every single major appliance in a five-mile-radius and put them in your phone,” Carter replies with a sneer.

“Don’t be jealous because the phone gets more time with me during the week than you do,” I console him with a pat on his hand.

“I’m not jealous. I just used my Palm PDA.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“Your Palm PDA is no match for my…Vtech Cordless,” I stammer.

What are we even talking about anymore? Is there a point when innuendos jump the shark?

“I know what you guys are doin’ when you make a phone call,” Gavin pipes up nonchalantly from the backseat.

You know how when you’ve told a lie and someone catches you in it your face gets all hot and you get butterflies in your stomach? It’s ten times worse when it’s your own freaking toddler calling you out and looking at you like, “Are you kidding me with this shit?”

“Heh, heh! What do you mean, buddy?” Carter asks, laughing nervously.

He looks at me and I look at him, and we both look in the backseat at Gavin. Thank God we are stopped at another red light. I don’t think Carter can be trusted to keep the car in our lane at this moment. Frankly, I don’t think I can be trusted not to open up the door and jump out. TUCK AND ROLL!

I’m going to have to tell my son about the birds and the bees in the car on the way to my father’s house. I don’t even get the term, “the birds and the bees”. How does that properly teach a kid about sex? You never see a pigeon railing a dove or a honey bee sticking it to a bumble bee. They really need to call it, “the cows and the horses”. Just the other day we drove by a farm and one cow was mounted up on another cow and Gavin said, “Awww look, Mommy. That cow is giving the other cow a hug!” I could have explained it easily then. I could have used correct terminology like penis and sperm and fertilization. It was a farm for f*ck’s sake. That sort of stuff can be seen every two feet between goats and pigs and roosters and chickens. I could have given him plenty of examples. But then I would have to answer the age old question about which came first, the chicken or the egg and that question still boggles MY mind. Now I’m going to have to make up some type of analogy that has to do with phones. “First, you pull the antenna out so it’s nice and long, then you push the right buttons so the other phone is in the mood to make a call…”

I can’t do this. I’m not ready for this. He’s too young to know about long distance phone calls and roaming charges!

“M-o-o-o-o-m! Did you hear me? I said I know what you guys are doin’ when you make phone calls,” Gavin repeats.

Sure, go ahead and repeat it. Obviously you need to make sure we are sufficiently freaked out. CHILDREN ARE THE DEVIL.

Maybe if I just completely ignore the situation, he’ll forget about it. I turned on the radio, frantically searching for a song he knows that he can butcher the lyrics to.