The First Taste(122)

Bell goes rod straight, as if possessed by some great idea. “Daddy has an apron. I’ll get it.”

“You look very . . . put together,” Flora says while Bell rummages in a closet.

“You mean overdressed.”

“Just a touch. The heels alone—you’ll sink in the backyard.”

There are jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers in my duffel bag, but I purposely chose this dress. It may be a party for a seven-year-old, but it’s a party nonetheless. I wouldn’t wear anything more casual if it were in the city, after all. This is who I am, whether New Jersey likes it or not.

Bell finds the apron and brings it to me. “Here you go.”

“Do you think I should change, Bell?” I ask, taking it from her.

“No,” she says. “Please don’t!”

“Me neither.” I tie the apron around my waist and neck. “I can’t think of a better occasion to dress up for.”

Flora chuckles to herself, muttering, “It won’t last.”

Bell squeaks. Her face is bright red with exertion, and I quickly figure out she’s doing her best to hold in a laugh.

“What?” I ask, following her gaze. I hold out the apron and crane my neck to see it upside down. There’s a silhouette of a man with a spatula next to a grill. I read it aloud. “I Like Pig Butts and I Cannot Lie.”

Bell bursts into a fit of giggles, wheezing from her effort to keep it in. Her glee spurs my own. Laughter travels up my chest, and soon, I’m no better than her, an immature pre-teen laughing at a butt joke.

“Now there’s a sound I could get used to,” I hear from behind me. I turn around. Andrew fills the doorway in a black t-shirt and jeans, his muscles straining as he holds several canvas shopping bags. My already big smile widens. “Hi.”

He looks me over, hair to shoes, then fixates on my chest. “Nice apron.”

“It was that one or World’s Best Dad,” Bell says.

“You have a point,” he says, winking at her. “That title’s reserved.”

Another man comes into the kitchen, shouldering Andrew out of the way to slump groceries on the island. “Good God. Your dad went a little crazy at the store.”

Andrew shrugs a shoulder. “Don’t want to run out of food.”

“They’re first graders, not wild animals,” the man says.

Andrew arches an eyebrow at me as he sets his bags down too. “You’d be surprised.”

I return his stare, and suddenly, I forget anyone else is in the room. With just a look, last night’s lovemaking rushes over me. He promised me all sorts of naughty things in his bed, yet all he did was treat me like a princess, give me an orgasm, and let me fall asleep on his chest.

I like being here in his kitchen, with his friends and family, but I also want to be alone with him. Can there be romance with a young child in the house?

“Bell, Antonio,” Flora says. “Let’s get the rest of the groceries.”

“There’re only a couple more bags,” the new person—Antonio—says. “And is anyone going to introduce me to the city girl?”

I put out my hand. “Amelia. Nice to meet you.”

He wipes his palm on his jeans and takes it. “Call me Pico.”

Andrew glares at him. “Listen to your mother and get lost, a-hole.”

“Oh,” Pico says, nodding with a sly grin. “Got it. Come on, Bell. How about a piggy-back ride?”

“Yes,” she screams and hops on before he’s even at her level.

The three of them disappear, and not a second too soon. Andrew closes the space between us and gathers me in his arms. “You disappeared on me this morning,” he says in my ear.

“I told you I would.”

“It’ll be the last time.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” he says. “You sleep under my roof, you’re in my bed. Understood? I’ll have a conversation with Bell first chance we get.”

“Okay,” I relent. What’s he doing to me? I used to be immovable when I wanted my way, and suddenly my argument is a simple “but” followed by my submission?

“What’re you smiling about?” he asks.

I shake my head. I can’t explain, so I just say, “You.”

“You look sexy as hell, by the way.”

“Is it the pig butts that do it for you?” I tease.

“It all does it for me—apron, dress, heels, hair. You’re way too beautiful for a kid’s party.”

“This is me,” I say. “City girl. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.” He kisses me on the lips, then the corner of my mouth, making his way to underneath my ear. Sliding his hands down my backside, he takes two handfuls. “God, I love this ass. It’s enough to get me worked up again.”

The front door slams, and I push him off by his chest. “You’ll have to put it on hold a little longer.”

He grumbles, but as soon as Bell enters the kitchen, his glower vanishes. “How’s it feel to be seven years old, kiddo?”

She twirls. “Amazing. I feel like a new person.” Everyone in the room smiles, and Bell notices, batting her lashes at each one of us. “Daddy, I know what I want for my birthday.”