Bad Cruz(69)

I never thought I’d be one of those women who’d take a liking to the possessive, Me-Tarzan-You-Jane alpha male. But in that moment, when I could feel his erection pressing against my middle, when his eyes were liquid velvet, so blue you could drown in them, I knew there was a fairly good chance I was going to hump his leg.

Tilting my chin up, my lips moved over his.

“As long as you keep your mouth shut and don’t tell anyone, I might keep you as temporary entertainment,” I murmured.

Ah, why not? Let’s admit it. I was never going to remember to charge that vibrator.

“Define temporary.” His lips were on mine when he spoke, and it felt divine.

“A few weeks.”

“No. Details to be discussed.”

“You’re missing the point of temporary entertainment.”

But really, I just couldn’t see myself going out with anyone, not to mention a man who could break me in a hundred different ways without even touching me.

“Your temporary entertainment is staying over after dinner. And wants you in black lace as soon as the kid goes to sleep.”

“I don’t have black lace.”

“Wearing nothing’s even better.” He snatched a quick kiss and pulled away from me just in time. Bear walked in, dragging his sneakers across the floor before plopping in his usual chair at the dining table, oblivious.

“Pasta and chicken nuggets. Sweet.”

“Did you wash your hands, young man?” I asked primly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dinner was surprisingly stress-free. Cruz and Bear exchanged notes regarding their video game, coming up with new strategies on how to kill the boss monster.

Afterwards, Bear told us about his upcoming trip into town with his mamaw, which was supposed to happen this weekend.

Cruz snuck a peek at me. “How long are you going to be away?”

“Dunno. Like, six or seven hours, I guess.” Bear shrugged.

“Interesting.”

I kicked Cruz under the table. Hard. He chuckled in response, obviously still unfazed by my panic.

“Are you going to ask my mom out or something?” Bear looked between us, more intrigued than repulsed judging by his expression.

I choked on my Coke, spitting some of it out, with a good portion shooting out of my nostrils.

Cruz seemed perfectly at ease as he studied Bear casually.

“Undecided. What’s your take?”

Bear used a fork and a spoon to roll as much pasta as he could fit into his mouth and took a huge bite. The food, I had to admit, was edible, which was astounding, seeing as Cruz was a single male and largely considered to be God’s greatest gift. He had no business being talented in the kitchen and in the sack.

“I’ll have to think about it. If you guys date and then break up, we won’t be able to play video games anymore.”

“But if we date and end up getting married, you’ll have your own game room.”

I almost coughed out a lung, as flustered as I was. This was straight up cruel. A man like Cruz would never marry a woman like me. Bear had to pound my back because he thought something got stuck in my air pipes.

“No one’s getting married!” I shrieked.

“Auntie Trinity is,” Bear said, turning back to Cruz, “Anyway, yeah, you can ask her on a date if I can have your game room.”

“That’s not how it works. At any rate, if we ever decide to go out, your mom would want you to keep it a secret. She’s ashamed of me.”

“Why?” Bear cocked his head sideways, glaring at me accusingly.

I bought time by shoving a chicken nugget into my mouth and getting a third-degree burn on my tongue.

“This has nothing to do with shame. We’re just not compatible, that’s why. People might have somethin’ to say.”

“People always have stuff to say about anything,” Bear spat out. “So what?”

Cruz gave him a fist bump, and now I was officially the opposition in this dinner dynamic. I couldn’t believe all Cruz had to do to form a coalition with my son was play a video game with him and throw a few microwave-friendly nuggets into the mix and that was me, sold off for marriage?

After Bear went to bed, Cruz poured both of us a glass of cheap wine. We stuck around in the living room, giving Bear a chance to fall asleep.

We watched the news without really watching the news, sitting on the edge of our seats, waiting anxiously for my son to fall into slumber.

Unlike other thirteen-year-old boys who were perfectly content to stay up all night and then struggled to wake up for school the next day, Bear went down like a log.

The kid could sleep his way through a third World War. I suspected it was due to his busy schedule during the day, which normally included lots of skateboarding from place to place, school, homework, and helping his papaw with some handiwork every afternoon.

“Think he crashed?” Cruz asked when the clock hit eleven.

“There’s a good chance, but let me double-check.”

I got up and padded to Bear’s room, feeling Cruz moving behind me. When I got to the narrow hallway, I pushed Bear’s door open, revealing a cozy room full of posters of Zelda and Halo and Tony Hawk and Rodney Mullen.

Bear was snoring, sleeping sideways, his entire upper body out of the bed. I resisted the urge to shift him into a normal position.