The First Taste(32)

An event where Amelia’ll be? I didn’t think I’d ever see her again—after all, I have no reason to go to Sadie’s work, and I steer clear of the city as much as possible. Would Amelia even want me there?

I don’t think I care. At the thought of spending another night with her, my insides coil. Friday night was the best sex I’ve had in four years. It’s the most connected I’ve been to a woman since Shana. I’d be a fool to fall for Amelia, but since I’m not a fool anymore, I don’t need to worry about that. The foolish thing would be turning down potential best-sex-ever. “I’ll come.”

“And I’ve been so,” Sadie’s voice cracks, “so emotional lately, I just really don’t want to be alone—wait.” Her voice returns to normal. “You’ll come? Really?”

“Were you seriously going to pull the f*cking pregnancy card on me?” I ask. “I have no doubt that works on Nathan, but I’ve been through this before. I’m not an idiot.”

She gasps. “Don’t be rude. I have been emotional.”

“Whatever. I said yes. I have to get off the phone.”

“We can meet for a drink before.”

“Fine. Text me the details.”

“It’s black-tie. Wear your good suit—”

I hang up. I only have two suits. She’s referring to the one I wore to her wedding since she forced me to get it custom made. Last week, I would’ve been annoyed as hell to have to go to some pretentious black-tie event in the city. I’m not exactly thrilled about it. But getting to see Amelia is a nice, unexpected surprise and boost to my day. She said sleeping over could be risky for us, but a quick round between the sheets before I have to get back home? Shouldn’t be a problem.

I come out of the office and head for the car. “Where’s Bell?”

“With Denise.”

I glance over to the grassy area by the garage, where Bell and Denise are sitting. Bell sticks out her pinky finger, lifts an imaginary teacup to her lips, and tips it back. Denise waves at me.

“Where’d she come from?” I ask.

Pico grunts. “You know how she likes to pop by.”

The car is no longer smoking, and Pico doesn’t seem concerned. “You got this?” I ask him.

“Yeah, it’s good. Go deal with her.”

I stomp over to the grass. Bell is completely clueless as to what Denise is doing, as she should be, but I’m not. Denise isn’t. Denise is always getting time in with Bell when she can, trying to get to me through her. “Denise.”

She looks up. “Hey, you. Want some tea?” She holds her empty palm open. “A blueberry scone?”

“It’s blackberry,” Bell corrects.

“No. No scone for me. Come here, baby.” I gesture for Bell to get up, and she stands. “Go in the office and get started on your homework. If you finish before dinner, we can watch something with a princess in it later.”

She widens her eyes. “Really? Anything I want?”

“Frozen is my favorite,” Denise says. “Bell, you’re just like Elsa.”

Bell whirls around. I try not to laugh. There’s nothing I could’ve said to Denise that’ll be worse than what she’s about to get. “Elsa is blonde,” Bell points out. “I have black hair. We’re nothing alike.”

“I meant that you’re brave—”

“That crap isn’t even a classic!” Bell says.

“Oh.” Denise scratches behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

Bell shakes her head, disappointed. “I have to go do my homework.”

“Good girl,” I say, patting her head before she takes off.

Denise wipes her hands on her jeans and gets off the ground. “You don’t have to be a jerk. I’m just trying to help,” she says, looking up at me. “It’s not good for her to be hanging around all these men all the time. She needs a female influence.”

“She has my sister for that.”

“Wake up, Andrew. Sadie isn’t her mother.”

“Then she has me. I do the girly shit. I watch the princess movies. I ask about her feelings. I’m not too proud to buy tampons when the time comes, and she already knows boys are scum so I don’t have to worry about the dating thing.”

“It’s not the same. Being a woman is about more than tampons and Disney princesses.”

I level her with a glare. Denise and I have been friends since high school, she knows how protective I am, but she continues to push me. “You think I don’t know my own daughter? Mind your own business.”

“No. Shana’s been gone four years next month. She f*cked you over. So what? We’ve all been f*cked over. Get over it. I have.”

“She was your friend,” I say, reeling back. “I lost the mother of my child. But you’re wrong. I am over it. I just choose not to get back into it.” I look her in the eye. “With anyone. You knew that when we started this.”

She sighs, crossing her arms. “Have I ever asked you for anything?”

“Not outright.”

She looks away. “Why didn’t you call me Saturday night when you were at Timber?”

I scratch my jaw. When I go out drinking with the guys, which isn’t often, I sometimes end up back at Denise’s. Even if it’s just for an hour before I have to get home to Bell. Saturday night, though, I wasn’t in the mood for just anyone, thanks to a certain sassy blonde with legs for days.