Just My Type(22)

Baker tugs my finger, pulling our hands closer to him until they’re resting against his chest.

“You still going through some shit, Tink?” Baker asks, all of the humor disappearing from his face as he stares at me.

Nope, no shit around here! Who said anything about shit? We should probably make out now. You know what’s a great boner killer? What’s about to come out of my mouth in three, two…

“I’m a mom!” I blurt loudly. “I was going through some shit, I’m now past the shit, and I’m trying to forget about the shit and be happy. But I’m someone’s mom. A human being came out of my body. He came out eight years ago, not like, recently or anything, but still. He will always come before anything else in my life, even though he’s the reason parts of my body just didn’t go back the way they should have after I had him. Weird parts. Like my feet. They grew half a size when I was pregnant with him, and never went back down.”

Baker doesn’t even blink when I finally stop word-vomiting. I’d worry that I killed him after the shit that just came out of my mouth, but that damn, amused smirk is still on his face as he looks at me. Like he doesn’t give two shits if I’m a mom. Like my possible hotness factor didn’t just go down a thousand points as soon as I started talking about my feet.

I cannot be attracted to a hot jock!

“Stop looking at me like that. I work for you,” I remind him, finally pulling my head out of my ass, but not my pinky out of his hold against his chest.

“Fine. We’ll keep this strictly business, if that’s what you want.” Baker shrugs.

“Yep, that’s what I want.” I nod, while every part of my body from the neck down screams, Jesus Christ! What are you doing?

I yank my pinky out of his grasp and away from the warmth of his muscular chest, shutting my body up so we can get back down to business. What we’re here for and what we just pinky swore on.

“How about a tour of the gym, and I can introduce you to a few people? Just a warning, most people here are a little chatty, save for a small handful of new people, and that tatted guy in the ring who hates everyone. I’m sure you have to get home soon, so we can reschedule the interview for another day if this takes too long,” he tells me.

He’s being accommodating, because he knows I need to get home to my son.

Or, he’s a hot, douchebag jock who’s just playing me right now. Extending this so we’ll have to spend more time together. Whatever. I’m still getting paid, since this is just a job, so it doesn’t even matter. And he pinky swore. That shit is sacred.

“Sounds great. You’re still an asshole. And super below average.”

“Noted.” Baker chuckles.

“Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

Baker presses his hand against the small of my back, pushing me toward a group of people sitting on the floor, working on some stretches. He keeps his hand there the entire half-hour we spend chatting with the other veterans. The warmth of his heavy palm and the way his thumb lazily traces a pattern over the material of my shirt against the skin at my lower back send goose bumps up my spine, and I can’t stop the small shiver that runs through me.

I don’t even know how long it’s been since someone touched me. And I’m not talking about snuggles and hugs from my son. I’m talking about the kind of touch that makes you think of hot, dirty, sweaty things. The kind of touch that makes you realize you’re so fucking starved for affection just a few little thumb traces against your lower back almost makes you have an orgasm.

“Feel free to let me know when you’re ready to flip the page,” Baker says quietly, his warm breath skating over the shell of my ear.

I glance up at him, and he’s already pulled his head away, not even looking at me. He’s looking at Alex, the Vietnam vet casually rolling back and forth in his wheelchair in front of us. I can’t drag my eyes away from Baker’s profile as I watch him throw his head back and laugh at something Alex just said.

I haven’t turned the page. I’ve just flown a hundred pages forward, to the part where he’s ripping my clothes off me and fucking me against a wall.

This is not good. Not good at all.





CHAPTER 10





BAKER

Science


To: Ember Hastings

From: Baker Matthews

Subject: Re: Hot, Manly Transcription

I took it upon myself to change the subject line of our email exchange. I have it on good authority this subject line better suits our conversation going forward. On account of the fact I have it in writing that you think I’m hot and manly. And you couldn’t stop staring at me yesterday, picturing me naked.

No worries, I am respecting your decision that this should remain strictly professional, due to the legally binding pinky swear. Since we’re keeping this all-business, I won’t tell you that seeing you in person for the first time, being in the same room with you, listening to you laugh, standing close to you, and watching your face when you put me in my place took my goddamn breath away. It’s okay. I trust that you’ll remain completely professional in regards to this information that I did not tell you.

Call me crazy, but I feel like you told me you’re a mom because you thought it would scare me away. Oh, ye of little faith in the male gender. I’m actually a rare species of hot manly man who likes kids. *See attached photo.