Limitless Love (Lotus House #4)(11)
Pretend once and for all that I didn’t love, marry, and ultimately divorce a psycho.
* * *
Mila held my hand as we eased up the two steps to my front door. It was late afternoon, closing in on six p.m. The vintage-style street lanterns flicked on, and the Bay breeze teased the leaves of the large oak tree shading my Berkeley home. I sucked in a full breath, reminding myself that I was alive, here, safe and sound. The stale antiseptic smell of the hospital still clung to me as Mila ushered me through the door, but I wouldn’t let it affect my mood. Not when I was going to see my baby girl.
The scent of garlic floated on the air as we entered, and my mouth watered. Hospital food wasn’t known for its palatable qualities, and my stay had been no different. Whatever was being cooked smelled heaven-sent.
A squeal of laughter bombarded my ears, and my heart began to pound. My love bug was close. The cloud of happiness and the comforts of home blazed like a healing balm across my ravaged soul. I held on to Mila as we walked into the kitchen, where I was stunned speechless.
I’d expected Atlas to be the one making my girl laugh like a hyena, but no. It was none other than Clayton Hart. The gorgeous man that I’d crushed on last year. We’d hit it off really well when we met, and then out of nowhere he bailed. Every time we’d see each other at Lotus House, he seemed to go out of his way to avoid me. I figured his feelings had changed, and yet…here he was, cooking up a storm, making my kid laugh. What in the world had I entered? The Twilight Zone?
Clayton faced the stove in a skin-tight black athletic tee and a pair of jeans that clung to every toned curve of his impressive backside. He hadn’t realized we were there, so I looked my fill as he shimmied his hips from side to side to the beat of “Faith” by George Michael, which was blaring from a phone sitting on the counter. Of course, at the center of the party, engrossed in his dance, was my Lily, clapping along and screaming “Faith” every time the word was sung by the ’80s pop star.
As we approached, Mila and I stared. Besides the fact that the song was highly inappropriate for a five-year-old—the man sung about touching bodies and being tied down—the way Mr. Hart was shaking his groove thang would make any nun switch sides from worshipping the God above to worshipping this man right here on earth.
Sweet baby Jesus, he was sexy, and boy, did the man have moves!
On the chorus, Clayton swung around holding up a baguette and pretended to sing into it for my daughter’s pleasure. I may have melted a little on the spot.
“King Clay is da bestest dancer!” She clapped and carried on, shifting her shoulders from left to right while she shook her little bootie on the barstool.
“And baaaaaabbbbbyyyyy…” Clayton belted and finally turned. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose up toward his spiky blond hair when he realized we were standing there enjoying the show.
This was not what I expected to come home to. But on a scale of one to ten, this man’s entertainment value scored an eleven. The man had definitely not lost his sex appeal. The tee he wore looked even better from the front, stretched across the miles of muscles of his chest and abdomen. I could even see the hint of a dent at each abdominal brick as the T-shirt fell to the top of his jeans. Even feeling like I’d been run over by a semi couldn’t stop the carnal response of my body at seeing such a virile man. My nipples beaded against the flimsy top Mila had brought me to wear, sans bra. I wouldn’t be wearing one of those for a while. My mouth went dry as sandpaper while my head throbbed along with the music.
Clayton openly stared. His eyes seemed to rove over every inch of me before stopping at my gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be back yet.”
“Translation, you didn’t think you’d get caught singing your heart out with a pop god while entertaining a princess.” Mila blatantly stated the obvious.
“I’m da queen, Mimi!” Lily hooted, dancing like a loon.
“I mean the queen.” She bowed dramatically. “Excuse me, Your Highness.” Mila played along with my daughter’s game.
Clayton, on the other hand, didn’t so much as glance away. No, his entire focus was on me and me alone. “I decided to hang out and keep an eye on things while Atlas picked up clothes for him and Mila.” He reached for his phone and shut off the music.
My pounding head thanked him, but I didn’t respond. Instead, I swallowed the emotion welling up my throat and clung to the doorjamb for support. The weight of everything that had happened and what I was currently seeing sent a bout of exhaustion through me. I sucked in a breath and tried to be polite. “That was very nice of you. I, uh, can’t thank you enough for your help and stepping in when everything went to hell…erm…”
With just a few steps Clayton stood before me, and he enclosed my hands in his. “Monet, I…” He stopped as if he couldn’t find the right words before letting out a long breath. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was happy to help. Lily is a wonderful kid.” He smiled softly, and I watched his full lips spread apart, wondering in another life what it would have felt like to kiss those plump bits of flesh. Maybe if I’d pushed to talk to him at some point between last year and now, shown him I’d been interested, things would be different. Now there was no way he would want a divorcee who’d been damaged beyond repair by a psycho ex.
I shook off the daze and patted his hand, content to focus on my daughter. Anyone complimenting my baby got major kudos in my book. “Thank you. She is.”