Ask Me Why(10)

Dammit, this kid rips me to shreds. I glance up at the clear sky and contemplate how to dig myself out of this mess. My gears are rusty and grinding, providing zero help. I dare a peek at him. His stricken expression ruins me all over again.

I bend forward and ruffle his shaggy hair. “I didn’t mean to, Ollie. I’ll try harder to hold my temper.” The vow solidifies in my chest, quickly turning ironclad.

Blue eyes the same shade as mine stare up at me. “With me or Miss Braelyn?”

I almost sneer at his suggestion. Why is he still thinking of that woman? “Just you, buddy. You’re the only one that matters.”

In an attempt to move on, I steer him in the direction of our original destination. But Ollie doesn’t budge.

“Daddy?”

I tamp down the bellow ripping at my throat. “Yes, Ollie?”

“Why do you hate Miss Braelyn?”

I grind my molars as we circle back to this topic. Again. After blowing out a string of silent expletives, I manage to force out, “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What’s the point of asking if you’re certain?”

Little fists park on his hips. “Because I want to know why.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“Does so.”

If there was a brick wall nearby, I’d bash my head against it. There’s no wonder where he gets this stubborn streak from. “And why’s that?”

“I want you to marry her. My teacher says two people get married when they’re in love. How do I get you to love Miss Braelyn?”

That notion alone is inconceivable. “Never gonna happen, Ollie. And I’ve heard enough about her for one day. Let’s get going.” I point to the path, my fingers scissoring in the signal for walking.

His slim shoulders slump, but he follows my command. Thank Christ for small miracles. We trudge off toward the park, a murky cloud looming over us. Birds whistle overhead, the tune an attempt to soothe. All I hear is static. Ollie’s mood doesn’t improve when the playground comes into view. His steps are slow as he shuffles to the sandbox and sits on the edge.

I drag a hand through my hair. There’s a neon sign hanging above me that lists all the ways I’m failing him. I stomp over to a large oak and park my hip against the trunk. This parenting gig never gets easier. But I’ll never quit giving that child all of me.

His insistence on finding me a wife has intensified tenfold in the last few months. A part of me, albeit very small, feels guilty as fuck that he doesn’t have a mother. I’ll admit it stings that he doesn’t consider me sufficient enough to fill both roles. But that’s selfish on my part. Too bad for him, my outlook on the opposite sex will never change. If Ollie knew why I’m so hellbent against relationships, it’d give him nightmares. And that damn shop owner is another level entirely.

At first glance, Braelyn appeared meek and mild. Her backbone came by surprise and surfaced out of thin air. She met my jabs with strikes of her own, firing off clever comebacks dipped in snark. Her anger got me hard. I fed off that shit. Arguing is what I do for a living, and I’m damn fucking good at it. Finding a worthy opponent is hitting the jackpot. I almost fooled myself into thinking she might be a decent sparring partner. But our battle came to a premature halt.

Try as I might, Braelyn hasn’t wandered far from my thoughts. She hijacked my predictable routine and replaced it with mayhem. Her soulful gaze saw too much, peeled away layers I never reveal. What the fuck was it about her?

I suppose she’s stunning in an understated way. An abstract sculpture that needs closer inspection to comprehend its true beauty. She didn’t wear any makeup or seem to put forth much effort into her appearance. Not that she needed to. Her blonde hair is long and wavy, the slight curls a golden waterfall. With long lashes that frame mossy eyes, I was sucked in. Her high cheekbones and arched brows are perfectly symmetrical. I bet she’d look beautiful with a natural flush coloring her skin. I’d like nothing more than to offer up a quick fuck. She’d guarantee a wild night with that sassy mouth and quick temper. I’d gladly find another use for those pouty lips. And that sharp tongue would wrap around my shaft quite nicely.

My blood rushes south, and I swerve away from the temptation. I adjust my position against the tree I’m still leaning against. The shade might conceal the arousal pounding into me. I inhale slowly, the scent of freshly cut grass reminds me of my location. This is the last place I should be getting turned on. But my mind and body are at war.

I glance around for offended park goers wearing looks of disgust but find none. The expansive fenced-in area is relatively quiet for a Saturday morning. I seek out Ollie, trying to deter my dirty imagination. He’s scooping up sand and filtering it through his fingers. His lack of motion doesn’t provide much of a distraction. Visions of her swoop in with the cool breeze.

Braelyn’s face is a flawlessly molded sculpture, but the entire package is better. Even under her loose clothing, I caught the subtle hint of curves. But she’s thin as a rail, almost too skinny. But not in a way that’s intentional. If I had to guess, she skips meals without realizing it. Distracted by all the shit cluttering her shop’s shelves. I could toss her willowy ass over my shoulder without effort. How’d she react to that? I shake my head, expelling the idea immediately.