Birthday Girl(88)

She’s gone.

He walks back into the kitchen, to the fridge, and I notice he’s still wearing the navy blue T-shirt and jeans from earlier with his work boots still on. He’s not the slightest bit undressed, so that’s a good sign.

“Sorry if that was awkward,” he tells me, pulling out a soda. “We actually just got here ourselves. She stopped by to—.”

“It’s your house. I don’t care,” I tell him, faking concentration on my task. “Do what you want.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, amusement in his tone. “You were slamming the washer and dryer doors and blaring music at ten at night. You seem…irritable.”

I shake my head, shrugging. “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to change your lifestyle just because I’m here. Go for it.”

He’s silent, and I can see him out of the corner of my eye just standing there a moment. I feel bad that I’m now elated he’s going to bed alone. I want him to have someone. Someone to love him and make him feel good.

But…

Not her.

And not anyone else, actually.

I’m falling for him. I want him to have me.

And he’s so stubborn, he pulled that tonight just to prove how much he doesn’t want me.

“But I did think you’d have some damn taste, for crying out loud,” I remark, gluing on more grass under the fake tree.

“Excuse me?”

I look up. “Did you know she broke up Marcus Weathers’ marriage?” I asked him. “She hangs around the bar, waiting to see who’s going to take her home on any given night, and she’s not picky. Married, taken, whatever…”

“Good thing I’m not taken then,” he fires back. “There’s no problem.”

I lower my eyes and recap the glue, realizing I lost that round.

“You can do better,” I finally mumble.

It’s not that I hate April. I didn’t care what she did to whose marriage before. It takes two to tango, doesn’t it, and Marcus Weathers was also to blame.

But I care now that it’s hitting too close to home. Pike is taken.

“What business is it of yours?” he challenges, walking back over to the table. “I’m a grown ass man who’s been having sex since before you were born. I’m used to getting it whenever I like, and I don’t answer to you, you hear me?” His words bite, and I feel small. “I’ll keep doing whatever I want, regardless of the opinions of some kid living under my roof.”

The word “kid” hits me like a hammer, and my heart sinks. I grind my teeth, twisting the hurt into anger.

“Got it.” I look up at him. “I’ll go to my room then.”

I rise from my seat, and his eyes immediately drop to my bare stomach. The T-shirt falls well above my belly button, and I revel in the way his body freezes and he has to tear his eyes away.

I circle back around the table, toward the living room, but remember the candle burning. Turning back, I make a show of leaning across the oval table, arching my back and feeling my shorts sink lower to expose the red strap of the same thong I wore when we made out in the yard a week ago.

“Forgot about the candle,” I say, raising my heated eyes to him. “But I can leave it burning if you want. I know the red’s your favorite.”

Red candle or red thong? Doesn’t take more than one guess to tell which one his attention is on.

He swallows, his timid eyes glancing at the red silk peeking out. I quirk a smile, and his eyes dart to mine, thinning.

“You’re pissing me off more by the second.” His raspy growl sounds dangerous. “You ruined my night, and I’ve still got a lot of steam to blow off, so tread carefully.”

I close my eyes, making my wish, and blow out the candle before standing up straight again.

“This ‘kid’ is the reason you have so much steam to blow off, isn’t it?” I taunt. “You’re such a liar.”

He squares his shoulders, breathing hard. “Go to your room, Jordan.”

“Happily.” I back away, teasing him. “I have a vibrator up there with bigger balls than you.”

He rushes me and lifts me up, tossing me over his shoulder, and I grunt as the air is forced out of me and his shoulder digs into my stomach.

What the hell?

He pounds up the stairs, and I feel like I’m going to fall the higher we get.

“Pike, stop it!” I yell.

“Then stop pushing me!” he bellows, and a slap lands on my ass.

I yelp, the burn spreading across my left cheek. Son of a…. I reach back and try to cover my behind in case he spanks me again.

It sounds like he kicks open my bedroom door, and the next thing I know, I’m flying off his shoulder and crashing back onto my bed.

My elbows dig into the mattress, and my head jerks forward, my hair flying into my face.

“Now go to bed!” he barks.

I blow the hair out of my eyes and see him walking out. “Tuck me in?”

I see him drop his head, and he’s breathing so hard, like he’s almost out of fuel. He turns, calming his voice just a hair. “What the hell has gotten into you tonight?”

Is he kidding?

I shoot off the bed and stand in front of him. “You brought her here, that’s what.”