The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(32)

She smiles coyly. “I meant like a mask or a hat.” She twists so I can see the fairy wings attached to her back. It’s then I notice the sparkle above her eyes that trails down her face and neck and over the rest of her exposed skin. “I didn’t mean for you to go all Tim Burton.”

“I wasted all my bat swagger on you,” I growl, stepping inside the house.

“Taking this neighbor thing seriously, aren’t you?” I don’t miss the way she checks out my ass when I clear the doorway and lean down to whisper in her ear.

“I take plenty of things seriously, you got your fill of my ass or should I strike a pose?”

The smile leaves her as her laugh dies, and her features twist into a scowl. It only took me five seconds to piss her off this round. “He’s brushing his teeth.”

“For? Isn’t he about to rot them with candy?”

“Exactly. Defense is the best offense.”

“Uh huh.”

Burning up, I shift in my suit, ready to rid myself of it, but the smile on my son’s face and the awe in his eyes when he runs into the living room makes it worth it. He’s worth every sacrifice I could ever make.

“BATMAN!”

“Hey, bud.” When he comes into full view wearing a frog costume, carrying a top hat, I can’t help my laugh. “Michigan J. Frog, I presume?”

I turn to Clarissa, who shrugs. “He insisted on changing his costume last minute. He can’t stop watching the videos.”

“Is it cool?” Dante looks up at me with hopeful eyes.

“The coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” He squeaks, anxious for my approval, which causes a raw ache in my chest.

“Absolutely. Just don’t be upset if no one gets it right away, okay?”

“That’s the point. Duh.”

“Go get your shoes on,” Clarissa tells Dante, and he gathers them from the door and goes to sit at the kitchen table.

“He’s so…cool,” I say as he misses the first catch in the loop of his shoestrings and tries again.

“Yeah,” Clarissa says pridefully as we both watch him tie his shoes. “He is.”

I’ve never met any kid like him, and I can’t get over the fact that I had a hand at creating him. “I can’t wait to see what he comes up with next year.”

She nods, surprised by my revelation that I’ll be sticking around, and I face her fully, irritated by her response.

“Really?” My whisper is harsh. “Is it so hard to believe I’ll be here next year?”

“What about football?”

“What about it?”

“You’re going to get drafted.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if it happens.”

“Troy, it’s going to happen.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m pretty sure football players have families as well as their careers.”

“Yeah, but we’re not coming with you.” I swallow hard, any argument sliding down my throat. It’s a daily habit when it comes to conversations with her. I can have a crowd of thousands chanting my name, but one remark from Clarissa can have me scraping my pride off the floor between us. Somehow over the years, she’s gained that power over me. “Look, the draft is months away. Can we not discuss it tonight?”

She nods, and I summon my son. “Come on, buddy, candy is waiting.”

Dante lights up and comes running toward me, his empty plastic jack-o-lantern in hand. Scooping him up, I hand Clarissa my phone. “Can we get a picture?” Dante wiggles in my arms, eager to get the candy gathering underway. “Hold still, So—”

Clarissa pauses with the phone halfway up, and our eyes lock at my near-fumble. “Hold still, Dante.”

Eyes still trained on each other, I harden my jaw in irritation and to keep my temper in check. It’s only been a few months. I have six years to make up for. Dante draws my eyes away, placing small hands on the side of my face. “What do you want a picture with me for?”

“How am I going to remember my favorite Halloween ever?” I can feel her eyes on us and wonder what she’s thinking. Is she dreading me being here next year? I brave a glance her way and see her eyes shining with something like hope. My anger subsides slightly, and I’m certain I don’t ever want to take that away. I’ll never let her be alone again in the way she described to me. Instead of useless words assuring her of it, I’ll prove that promise. And that’s going to take time. The more I become integrated into their lives, the more I feel like I can do anything, everything, for them both. She’s given me the chance without much of a fight these days, so why then the draft talk? Why the insistence on her stance when it comes to my leaving? And is any of her concern for my leaving for herself?

“Where did you get that costume?” She asks, eyeing it appreciatively. I’d caught her staring at me the other night and let her think I was still asleep. Attraction isn’t the issue and never has been. My wonder is if she feels what I do when I look at her. Even a tenth of it?

“From my Batcave, of course,” I answer her with a wink before addressing Dante. “Don’t tell anyone it’s me, okay? Think I can pass for the real thing?” I’m speaking to Dante, but the words are meant for Clarissa, who I haven’t looked away from.