Fresh Meet Page 6

She studies me for a moment before getting up with her plate. “Okay.”

  I make quick work of wiping down the mess, making Tanner giggle when I pretend to wipe his neck and ears.

  The sound is music to my ears, my heart hammering happily behind my rib cage. “Should we get you out, buddy?”

  He turns his hands several times, his palms moving back and forth. All done.

  “Yes, good job. All done.”

  I use the washcloth I prepared earlier and wipe him down once more before getting him out of his chair.

  He immediately runs to the kitchen and throws his arms around Emilia’s leg, swaying left and right, like he’s ready to dance. I had no idea kids could bounce back so quickly. Not twelve hours ago, he was pale and listless. Yet, despite the coughing, he looks undoubtedly better. Is this normal? I have no idea. Although, Emelia doesn’t look that surprised.

  She laughs before bending down to pick him up. “Looks like a movie might be our best option to keep you from jumping all over the place, huh? We don’t want to make your cough worse.”

  He nods and raises his fist up and down. Yes.

  “Yes? That’s what I thought. Why don’t you pick something with Daddy while I eat my pancake?” She rubs her hand up and down his back when he snuggles closer, a small smile on her lips.

  The two of them look so serene together, so natural and content, like they’ve been a unit their whole lives.

  For a moment, I feel like an intruder.

  A prickling sensation runs down the back of my neck, and I run my hand over it, willing the tension to subside.

  I grab everything from the table and put it away in the kitchen.

  Tanner turns and reaches for me. My limbs feel heavy as I close the distance between us and mimic his position, grabbing him under his arms as he halfway jumps into mine.

  Even though he’s so small, he feels solid against my chest. He fits perfectly as he wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes. I squeeze right back, gently, as he pulls back to press his forehead against mine.

  The room is completely quiet, except for Tanner’s heavy breathing, as he leans back to stare at me. His gaze is intense, and I don’t dare blink as he lifts his hand to his forehead to sign dad.

  I swallow hard as I nod. “Yes, buddy. I’m your dad. Can you say that? Daddy?”

  Tanner nods and grins, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gives me a puckered kiss. The contact barely registers, but shit, the meaning of it is strong enough to almost knock me off my feet.

  Emilia seems to feel the same, a quiet gasp coming from the kitchen, while Tanner has apparently already moved on, pointing at the TV in the living room.

  Toddler attention span. Figures.

  Emilia joins us a moment later, Tanner directing her to sit right beside me, so he can sit on both of our laps at the same time.

  My fingers brush Emilia’s as we both try to settle with a wiggling kid on us.

  When I look at her, she gives me a warm smile. I’m sure it mirrors mine, impossible to hold back the joy after the bonding moment with my son.

  Strangely enough, the moment was even more special because Emilia witnessed it, but I’m not ready to analyze that fact or the shitstorm that could come from exploring anything Emilia.

  Seven

  Emilia

  My hand is sweaty, curled under Tanner’s tiny body, and pressed against Jace’s thigh.

  Why did Tanner insist on having us sit together like this to watch a movie? The same movie he’s missed most of because he passed out about ten minutes in, lying across our laps, consequently rendering both of us immobile for the rest of the movie.

  So Jace and I watched Moana by ourselves, pressed together from shoulder to toes on the wide chaise part of the couch. Awareness has been spreading along my skin like a layer of lotion, slowly sinking in but leaving me with the knowledge that it’s there. And once that bottle has been opened, it was impossible to seal up again, just like those pesky pump bottles.

  Why on earth am I suddenly thinking about lotions?

  Maybe because you want to rub yourself all over him?

  Bad, bad, bad.

  I’ve also acquired a thigh fetish while watching a kids’ movie. Feeling his hard muscles on the backside of my hand has made me all antsy, ready to crawl out of my skin this very second.

  My thoughts are interrupted when Tanner coughs. My whole body goes on alert, but thankfully, it’s still a normal cough. From the sound of it, it’s also one that triggered a fit and doesn’t want to stop.

  He’s curled into his side, his whole body shaking with each new ripple.

  Tanner’s eyelids flutter as he wakes up but continues to cough.

  My gaze lands on his empty water bottle on the table.

  Oh no.

  I press my hand into Jace’s leg. Hard and urgent. “Jace, can you fill up his water bottle, please?”

  “Of course.” He helps Tanner sit up before jumping off the couch and speed-walking to the kitchen, sippy cup in hand.

  The cough grows louder and worse as Tanner’s face turns red, his poor body unable to give him a break to recover.

  “Jace, hurry.” My gaze flickers to the kitchen nervously, but it’s too late.

  Tanner’s gag reflex kicks in and he throws up. Heave after heave rocks through his body until there’s nothing left. All I could do was snatch a blanket so it wouldn’t all land on the couch. Or me.

  Somehow it still went everywhere, even though most of it seems to be on the blanket. The smell is so bad, I have to focus on breathing through my mouth, barely keeping my own gagging at bay.

  “Dang it.” Jace rushes back over to us, cursing under his breath. “Oh, buddy.”

  Tanner shoots a surprised look at Jace and then me before he closes his eyes and starts crying. Loud wails echo through the room while sobs ricochet through his body. He’s unable to keep his snot under control, wiping it everywhere his tiny hands can reach.

  When I think I can safely breathe without joining the vomit club, I take a deep breath and look up at Jace. He’s frozen in place, only a few feet away from us, looking like he just witnessed a crime.

  It kind of looks like a murder scene, in a very abstract way I suppose. No one ever needs to see this many body fluids and stomach contents at the same time, that’s for sure. Or ever, really.

  I rub Tanner’s back with my clean hand, probably one of the only clean exposed body parts I’ve got left. “It’s all good, sweetie. We’ll get you all cleaned up in the bath, okay?” Jace still hasn’t moved. “Jace?”

  “Huh?” His eyes are wide as saucers when his gaze snaps to me.

  “Bath? For Tanner. Now.” I’m still trying to talk without breathing through my nose again by accident. My stomach’s already churning enough from the whiff I caught before.

  Jace finally jumps into action, dropping Tanner’s sippy cup on the coffee table before taking off to the bedroom in a sprint. When he comes back a minute later, he’s holding out a large bath towel in front of him.

  Stopping in front of us, he holds out his covered arms. “Can we get him on here?”

  “Tanner, can you climb into Daddy’s arms? Just right there on the towel?”

  Jace wrinkles his nose, his head pulled back as much as the position allows him. His nostrils flare as he’s forced to step closer so Tanner won’t faceplant or set foot on the floor in his messy state. “Come here.”

  When he finally gets a hold of him, he wraps him in the towel, holding him away from his body like he’s a bomb about to explode. He speed-walks across the living room and they disappear down the hallway to the bathroom.

  I close my eyes for a moment, not looking forward to cleaning up this mess. Vomit is at the very top of my things I like to avoid at every possible cost.

  I wish Jace would have taken the revolting smell with him, but sadly he didn’t. My stomach churns as I slowly fold together the ends of the blanket, careful not to touch any more throw up, even though it’s impossible t
o avoid.

  So gross.

  I take the liberty and get a trash bag from the kitchen to throw the blanket in. I’ve tried cleaning up a similar mess before, and the blanket ended in the trash after four rounds in the washer, so I’ll save myself that dilemma. I’ll buy Jace a new one if he’s upset about it. It’ll be worth it.

  After dumping the stinky bag outside in the trash can, I make my way back to the kitchen to wash my hands and scrub my arms as far as I can reach. My shirt stinks, but I want to take care of the mess before getting cleaned up too. I take a moment to at least brush the pieces off my shirt though and into the sink.

  Then I grab a pair of gloves, along with some cleaner and a sponge—sadly no face mask—and make my way over to the couch.

  It takes about fifteen minutes, but I manage to clean up every last bit of the mess. A few rounds of Febreze and we should be good. Or at the very least, a lot better.

  I’m putting away the supplies when Jace walks in with Tanner in his arms. “Why are you still out here?” He looks around and takes a whiff. “You didn’t need to clean this mess, Emilia. I thought you’d jump in the shower and get cleaned up too. I was going to take care of it.”

  I wave him off. “It’s no problem, I promise. I know from experience that the nastiness only gets worse the longer you wait. And trust me, you don’t want that sort of stink to sink in.”

  “Well, thank you.” Jace smiles at me and nods. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I snap off the gloves and shove them in the cabinet under the sink before clicking the child lock back in place.

  Tanner leans on Jace’s shoulder, and I step closer. “You okay there, monkey? That probably didn’t feel too good, huh?”

  Instinct makes me lift my hand to rub his back, but I pull it back before touching him. Just in case. The last thing he or Jace need is a vomit speck on them.

  Tanner shakes his head and yawns.

  “Poor baby. Are you going to go and sleep some more? Hopefully, you’ll feel better after a nap.”

  Tanner nods, his eyelids heavy as he blinks at me.

  “Why don’t you jump in the shower while I put him down?” Jace’s voice is deep and incredibly close, making the hair on my back rise. In a delicious, and slightly forbidden, way.

  “Sounds good.” I don’t look at Jace, too freaked out he might see something in my expression that I don’t want him to see. Instead, I focus on Tanner, who’s now half-asleep on his dad. “Feel better, okay? I might not be here when you wake up, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He waves a tired hand at me before letting it drop on Jace’s arm.

  Jace chuckles. “I better put him down. This whole ordeal tired him out even more.”

  “I’m going to try and get this terrible smell off me.”

  “Good luck.” With that, he turns and walks away.

  That leaves me standing here like the weirdo I am, staring after him as my heart turns into goo at the sight of this father-son duo, especially at the way Jace protectively holds Tanner against his broad chest with his long, muscular arms surrounding him like a cage.

  The quick flicker of my gaze further south is completely unintentional, yet just as mesmerizing. Those sweats do something mighty fine to his butt. It’s round and firm and makes my fingers tingle with the need to—

  No, no, no.

  I think the vomit fumes have made me delirious.

  Shower time. Right. Now.

  Jace’s butt follows me into the shower—not literally, of course—and I try to distract myself by singing songs from Moana. I keep my voice down but still hit all the high notes as if I’m performing in front of a sold-out auditorium.

  My falsetto has never been as sharp, but the acoustics in the bathroom give it an extra edge.

  Sadly, Jace’s butt is still front and center of my brain, and I let out a frustrated shriek.

  A few seconds later, the bathroom door slams open, and I yell in surprise.

  Jace fills the doorframe, eyes wide open, his gaze frantically looking around before fixating on me. “I heard you yell. What happened?”

  Neither one of us says a word as we stare at each other, the situation slowly sinking in.

  Then, Jace’s gaze flickers down my body in a slow perusal.

  Because shit . . . glass door.

  My hands fly up, unsuccessfully trying to be in too many places at the same time, giving him more of a wet nude show than successfully covering up my private parts.

  My mouth opens. I should say something. Do something. But I’m utterly speechless.

  Jace finally snaps out of it and clears his throat. If I’m not totally wrong, his cheeks look flushed.

  He turns away from me, rubbing his hands over his face and neck. “I’m so sorry. I heard you yell and thought something happened. I shouldn’t have . . . I should have . . . I’m so sorry.”

  With that, he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

  My mind struggles to process what just happened. Because Jace didn’t just burst into the bathroom while I was taking a shower, right? It’s impossible that my boss just saw me naked.

  Floor, please swallow me up. Now.

  Maybe we can just laugh it off.

  I can tell him I was ogling his firm backside earlier, and we’re even.

  On second thought, that might not be the best idea after all.

  The biggest question of all is, why is this low and pleasant hum spreading through my body at the knowledge that Jace just saw me naked?

  And how on earth can I get rid of it?

  Eight

  Jace

  Fucking shit on a cracker.

  Pacing the living room, I wait for Emilia to come out of the bedroom. On second thought, maybe I should pull a disappearing act and be gone before she comes out. But . . . it’s her day off, so I can’t do that.

  This must be a lot worse for her than me.

  There’s a layer of guilt tugging on all sides of me, but it’s not even close enough to penetrate the wall of pure desire that filled me the second I laid eyes on her naked skin.

  After all, I’m not a monk, and that woman’s beauty is literally skin-deep.

  The way her wet skin glistened with the light shining through the window, subdued enough through the milky glass to highlight her stunning looks rather than overshadowing them.

  It’s like the glimmering rays knew to not even try and outshine her.

  I feel like I got punched in the gut. But instead of pain, there’s this buzzing sense of electricity in my body. Every skin cell tingles; every neuron fires.

  I’m suddenly strung so tight, I’m aware of everything going on inside my body. My heartbeat. The sensation of being flooded by flames that keep burning brighter with each passing second.

  One thing’s for sure, I need to chill the fuck out.

  Rubbing my hands over my face in agitation, I practice my deep breaths.

  This is what I excel at, calming myself down enough to shut out the entire world around me. This is my strength and why I’m such a fierce competitor in the water.

  It takes me longer than I’d like, but I finally get to a point where I have both my body and mind under control. At least, mostly.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and after getting it out, I swipe the screen to answer it at the same moment Emilia walks around the corner of the hallway.

  Her hair is wet, red waves falling down her shoulders and back. As expected, she avoids my gaze, and I feel equally relieved and disappointed.

  “Dude, are you there?” I pull away the phone at the intruding noise.

  Putting it back to my ear, I breathe out. “Yeah, sorry. What’s up?”

  “It’s Sunday.” Hunter says it like it’s self-explanatory, and in a way it is.

  If we can, we usually hang out on Sundays—Hunter, Noah, Ryan, and me—even though it’s been a few weeks with everything going on.

  He chuckles. “We’re on for later?”

  My
eyes are trained on Emilia. “Everyone?”

  “Nah, just me. Ryan and Harper are busy, and Noah is still out of town.”

  “If you want to be around Tanner coughing, and possibly throwing up, then sure. Come on over.” While I wait for Hunter to reply, Emilia’s gaze flickers to mine. It’s such a brief moment that I would have missed it had I blinked.

  Hunter’s chuckle doesn’t sound as upbeat anymore as before. “Oh no, poor dude. I’ll bring something to cheer him up. Be over in a couple hours?”

  “Sure. See you then.”

  “Bye.”

  I’ll appreciate the fact later on that my best friend doesn’t recoil from the reality that my boy is sick. Right now, I’m distracted by the flurry of motion that is Emilia. She went back and forth between the kitchen and the hallway a few times, now holding a trash bag with what looks like her clothes in it.

  My breath catches in my chest as my mind races through the different ways of how to best handle this situation. Should we talk about this or pretend like nothing happened? I’m not sure it’s possible to tell what option Emilia would prefer without asking her. From the looks of it, she’s about ready to bolt, which is an answer in itself, I suppose.

  Disappointment settles over me like a heavy blanket as I watch her put on her shoes. Her bag is next, carelessly thrown over her shoulder.

  She clears her throat but doesn’t look at me. “I have to go home to get ready for my . . . my meeting.”

  Her meeting. Of course.

  “Your Vespa.” I totally forgot that we left it at the hospital last night. I’m such an ass.

  “Don’t worry. I called an Uber. I don’t want to wake up Tanner.” She shuffles her feet, her flushed cheeks a bright contrast to her white shirt.

  Tight black leggings complete the look. Seems like she had more than one outfit stored away. Smart woman.

  “Just let me know how much it is so I can reimburse you.” I push my hands in my pockets, slowly getting impatient about this situation.

  I don’t want her to go.

  I want to address the elephant in the room, but she seems to shy away more with each passing second, slowly inching toward the front door.