Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(37)

In the shower, she scolded herself for even dreaming about Holt.

While she dressed, she lectured herself about the responsibilities of motherhood.

As she fixed a hot breakfast—a treat for Carson on a school day—she reminded herself of what was important in life. Her son was first on the list.

When Carson emerged from his bedroom, his apprehensive expression reminded her of when he was four and had broken every egg in the carton to see what was inside.

She knew he was eleven, could see how big he’d grown, and yet her heart saw him as her baby. Did that feeling ever go away?

Last night, he’d told her what Everett had said. Her boy had tried to pretend he didn’t care. But he did. His father who should have been so proud of him had acted as if his son was something he loathed.

She knew…oh, she knew exactly how Carson had felt at that moment. Even though her son knew how much she loved him, he would hurt for a long time to come.

“Good morning, honey.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I made pancakes. Do you want a couple of eggs with them?”

“Uh. No, thank you. Not today.” Far too quiet, Carson set the table and got out butter and syrup.

Anger at Everett simmered inside her, yet what could she do? Sure, she could lawyer up and create hell for the jerk. What about his innocent family? What about making Carson an object of gossip at his school? The collateral damage for getting revenge seemed excessive.

She set the plate of pancakes on the table and joined Carson, seeing he’d poured milk in the glasses. He was on his best behavior…and she wished she had her sullen pre-teen back again.

Once finished, she started cleaning up while Carson got ready for school. At the sound of a door shutting, she glanced out the kitchen window.

On the other side of the fence, Holt sauntered into his backyard. His thick blond hair was tangled, his eyes, heavy-lidded. He was obviously just out of bed…and the knowledge sent a wave of warmth through her.

Dammit, no. You will not go there, Josephine.

*

Monday afternoon, Holt sat on his patio, feet propped on a chair, and contemplated what boring task to take on next. The sky was a clear blue, the temperature a perfect seventy degrees with a light breeze from the Gulf. December in Florida was one of his favorite months, and the perfect time for chores outside.

Rebuilding the patio or fence came to mind, but he didn’t own the place and wouldn’t live here long. Hell, he’d only taken over Uzuri’s lease to get out of his singles complex where he would constantly run into his ex, Nadia. However, the duplex lease would be up at the end of March.

No, he was done with apartments—and duplexes, too. It was time to buy a house, one on a quiet residential street like this.

Unlike some of his friends, he didn’t need lots of land for privacy. He liked having neighbors. In fact, when the time came to move, he’d miss playing basketball with teens across the street, visiting Stella Avery for coffee, cookies, and blood pressure checks—and rescuing distressed mothers with runaway kids.

His smile faded. Carson had fucked up by running away—and not having backup. That mugging could’ve been ugly. But, damn, the kid had kept his head and never stopped fighting. And his mother—Holt shook his head—Mama Bear had charged right in to save her cub. She’d snatched up that block of cement and smacked the bastard hard enough to scramble his brains.

There was a woman after his own heart.

No. Don’t go there. Dammit, he’d broken up with Nadia only a month ago. But the pain had faded fast, maybe because he’d discovered he didn’t even recognize the real Nadia. Didn’t like the real Nadia.

Despite the short time, he knew Josie far better than he had Nadia—at least in the ways that mattered. Josie’d apologized for her rudeness when believing he was a biker. When her kid was in danger, she’d risked herself to save him. In the Shadowlands, she listened and tended to the members with as much care as she mixed their drinks. She’d uprooted her life to move close to her aging great-aunt. Even the neighborhood teens said she was cool. She listened to them—and gave them cookies.

Aaaaand now, he had a craving for cookies.

Holt grinned. As a guy, he’d noticed how well her round ass filled her jeans, her eyes turned greener in sunlight, and her mouth curved into a smile. Damned if he didn’t want to nibble on that soft lower lip of hers. To see what color her nipples were and savor the weight of her breasts. To strip her down, physically and emotionally.

To take her under command.

Because, Josie was submissive, and the sweet yielding look in her eyes ignited a fire in his belly.

Hell, now he was an idiot. Starting anything with Josie was a foolish idea ripe for ugly complications. She was his neighbor. Worked in the Shadowlands. Had a child.

And according to Stella, Josie didn’t date. At all.

Why?

A noise made him look to the left, and he turned.

Carson stood on the other side of the fence, the sun glinting off sandy brown hair a few inches longer than his Mom’s. Ill at ease, the boy shifted from foot to foot. “Um. Hi.”

“Hey, kid. Jump on over.”

The boy’s brown eyes lit. His hop over the fence was effective, if not graceful. He jogged to the patio.

“Want a Coke or Dew?” Holt held up his Mountain Dew.

“Uh, sure. Coke. Please.”