6. Grayson

Grayson

I 'm washing vegetables at the sink. George and Maggie are on the floor, a bag of LEGOs surrounding them. The colorful blocks are scattered like shrapnel across the polished hardwood, but the two of them are happily handling the plastic pieces. Every so often, I watch them together, clicking things into place to create a formless mess of blocks. Maggie's brow is furrowed as she studies the instruction book, and George is watching her like she hung the sun.

Though my brain is screaming danger, I still haven't asked her to leave. Like the dumbass I am, I'm going to make dinner for her. Pasta. Something simple but delicious. But why?

That damn suit, for one. The tight grey pants are driving me crazy. And her blouse too. It's a faded red color, but the witchy woman wore a dark bra underneath. A few times in the car, I could see the outline, and it's something lacy. Damn her.

I haven't dated anyone since my wife, though I've enjoyed a few intimate partners. Nothing worth mentioning. And never, not once, has anyone met my son. But Maggie calls me out on my crap in a way that's driving me crazy.

Yes, I want her. To stay, and in other ways. But dinner will be it. Light conversation, and she'll go back to LA where she belongs. Far away from me.

I go to the stove and start frying the garlic. The rich aroma of the sautéing garlic fills the kitchen, mingling with the crisp scent of freshly chopped parsley and the earthy fragrance of olive oil heating in the pan. After a while, I forget about the woman playing with my son and let myself drift into my cooking. The rhythmic sound of pasta boiling creates a soothing backdrop, while the gentle sizzle of garlic promises a satisfying meal. Once it's all plated, I look up, ready to call the two to the table.

She's staring at me. Our eyes lock. And oh, it's doing things to me. She smiles, her face growing rosy, and tucks a loose piece of hair back up into her ponytail before shyly looking at the ground. Fuck, that's adorable and sexy all at the same time.

I clear my throat. "Dinner, you two."

Georgie bounds to his feet and scrambles over, dragging Maggie with him. My chest tightens at the sight. He's getting awfully attached awfully quick. I nearly groan aloud. This is so stupid. But I can't stop. Even as she comes to the table, I pull out a chair for her. "Uh, thanks."

I grunt an incoherent response and take a seat next to her. Georgie is already shoveling pasta into his mouth.

"Wow, hungry boy. Slow down there, champ, here." She takes his plate and uses her fork to chop up the noodles. Shit. I should have thought of that. But the fact is, I haven't been a dad in a few years, and this beautiful temptress is distracting me. It's a bad combination.

She slides the plate back over and takes a bite. Her eyes close, and she lets out a loud moan. "Oh, Grayson, this is by far the best thing I've ever put in my mouth!"

Yep. Instantly hard. Is she kidding with this? But honestly, I don't think she's playing some game. There is an innocence about her, and I know she is genuinely complimenting my food. I'm the pervert imagining my half-hard cock between those plump lips. That would be the best thing that's ever been in her mouth. I sit up straighter and take a bite, begging my body to calm down.

"Needs salt," I manage to say and grab for the dispenser at the same time she does.

Where our fingers touch feels alive, like an explosion of magic prickling every tiny millimeter her skin grazed. "Ope, sorry." But she grabs the salt and starts shaking it over my food. "Tell me when."

"Uh, yes. That's fine."

"Mine next!" Georgie says, his mouth full of food.

"You got it, champ." She salts his food and then adds a dash to her own plate. I start eating my pasta but keep stealing glances at her. More often than not, she's doing the same to me. Little flurries jitter around in my stomach every time.

I can hardly swallow my food. Who is this woman? So confident and cool. Easy to laugh. Sexy as hell. I knew she was trouble the moment I first met her. Every time I saw her, both signing my guilty papers and when she visited in prison, it was like my whole body came back to life. Things I hadn't felt in years would spark up, taking interest in a person I had no business entertaining. Did I really think tonight would be different? A small voice in the back of my head already knows the answer. I knew it wouldn't. I didn't want it to be. I want those feelings, the ineffable magic having her around brings me.

"Excuse me," I say. I get up from the table quickly and go straight to the hall bathroom. I lock the door and turn on the sink. The cool splash of water against my face shocks me back to reality. Lord, I'm losing it over some person I barely know.

I splash some cool water on my face and look in the mirror. Maggie, my mind still screams. More cold water. Maggie moaning beneath me.

I want to punch myself and know exactly how. Suzanne. My wife's face comes to memory, and I close my eyes. It's a punishing experience but a helpful reminder. No one gets close to me anymore. If they do, surely my family will find a way to ruin it, even from jail.

I take a deep breath and walk back out. She's at the sink, rinsing the plates. The scene is so domestic that my legs go a little numb. I must be giving her a strange look because she shies away from me. "Sorry, I just figured since you cooked…" I join her and start putting the cleared plates into the dishwasher.

George is already back on the floor, tinkering with his LEGOs. "Hey champ, wait for me," Maggie says beside me. She's chuckling before leaning closer to me. "Your son is incredible," she says quietly.

"Likewise." I say it before I realize it makes no sense, and my face flushes. She's laughing at me, trying to contain it, but I can see her shoulders shaking with the effort.

I splash some water in her direction. It lands on her shirt, and she scowls. "Hey!"

My laughter bursts out, hearty and loud. She splashes me back, but I don't retaliate, still laughing. We're both properly covered in soapy water now, so I grab my hand towel. "Let me," I say before I can really rethink it. Dabbing at the wet splotches, I'm staring at her chest. It's rising and falling far more quickly than it was before. Somehow, that fills me with a sense of pride. I'm affecting her as much as she is me.

God, it feels nice to flirt. Just a thin towel and shirt between me and what is surely a pair of delicious boobs. My eyes are practically bugging out of my skull, but I can't look away.

"Uh, Gray, I think you got it," Maggie says. Gray. I like that. Tilly sometimes calls me that, but when Maggie says it, my body tingles.

"Did I?" My voice is husky, and I know it. But I suddenly don't care. I let my hand fall to my side, taking the towel with it. Neither of us moves. We're nearly chest to chest now, staring into each other's eyes.

"Why did you ask me to stay?" she asks, her voice as sultry as mine.

"Because you're refreshing, like sunshine after weeks of raining." The words leave my mouth of their own accord. But I can't find it in me to regret them. It's the truth. No matter how corny it sounded or how silly I might feel tomorrow, I needed to say it.

The way she blushes will be burned into my brain for the rest of my life.

"Germaphobe, control freak, grump, great dad, and poet?" she asks, her crooked smile lighting a small fire in my chest.

"Are you profiling me, Detective?"

"A good cop is always on her toes," she says. As if to emphasize her point, she rocks up on her tiptoes.

I could close the distance. It would be so easy. My eyes dart down to her lips, so full and red. Kissable. Lickable. Bitable. She wets them as if preparing for my move.

But there's a noise at my door, and voices explode into my home. I step away from Maggie as soon as my eyes take in Tilly and her family.

And my cousin does not look happy. That's not good. She owns me. Heart, soul, and my house. I owe her everything since getting out of prison. If having Maggie around is putting the look of horror on my cousin's—who is also my boss— face, this thing with Maggie is not to be further explored.