Flash (Penmore #2) Read online

  “Millie, I’m trying real hard to ignore the fact that you went batshit crazy and tried to turn a pickup into a mom car. But I’ll also shock you by saying that if this shit was a Volvo, a mom’s car Volvo, I’d still be driving. Now do me a favor and help by telling me which way I’m going.”

  “I wouldn’t have to tell you if I was the one—”

  “Millie,” I interrupted her firmly. “Address.”

  I turned my head to watch her chew on her lip again.

  “I changed my mind. Maybe we should go back to the library.”

  “If you’re backing out and don’t tell me where you live, I’m just going to drive to mine,” I told her, my voice dipping low. “Where there are no chaperones.”

  “Two lefts. Then keep driving until you pass the traffic circle.”

  “You live a block away from the old trailer park?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s not a good neighborhood.”

  “Umm, okay, so I know it’s not ideal, but maybe you should wait until you see it before you judge my neighborhood.”

  “I grew up in your neighborhood. I know how bad it can get.”

  “Oh.”

  The termite damage exposed a lot of the wood that enclosed the porch. The faded blue paint was peeling from every corner. The front window was boarded up with old pieces of wood. The whole house was an eyesore. I was surprised it was still standing. The city should’ve torn it down already.

  “How is this place not condemned?” I muttered as we made our way up her hazardous driveway.

  “I have no idea,” she laughed, carefully maneuvering her way across the dangerous cracks with ease. “It’s not so bad on the inside.”

  “And you live here alone with your daughter?” I asked, keeping the concern out of my voice. The last thing I wanted was for her to become pissed at me again and lock me out of the house.

  “It’s actually my daughter’s grandmother’s house. The day I told her I had nowhere to live, she called a real estate agent and sold her townhouse. This was the only house in her price range that she could buy that same day and gave us all our own rooms.”

  I read between the lines. Her daughter’s grandmother—not her mother. Nowhere to live—I wasn’t surprised. In this neighborhood, I was sure being related to a deadbeat dad and having shit parents were prerequisites.

  “Sounds like an impressive woman. She going to be here?”

  “She’s the most impressive woman I’ve ever met, but you’re not getting that honor today. She’s at work, but my best friend will be here. She came by to take Jessie for a sleepover and let me duck out to the library to get more notes. I’m not a deadbeat parent, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t leave my two-year-old in the house by herself,” She raised her eyebrows as if waiting to be challenged. When I shrugged, letting her know of my indifference, she continued. “You do realize you only recently told me you were an ex-con? While I trust that you didn’t lie about why you were put away, I’m not going to pretend that I don’t feel safer knowing we aren’t alone.”

  “I get it. Hell, the more the merrier. I could invite the whole team over if it makes you more comfortable.”

  “Team?”

  “The Herons.”

  “Simon, the team wouldn’t just show up for some fan to help him score with a chick. You can’t tell everyone what to do and expect them to follow your orders,” she laughed while unlocking the door.

  “Probably not, but I’m on the team.”

  “You’re not on the team,” she said firmly as she abruptly blocked the doorway.

  “Babe, I am.” I chuckled as I realized there was annoyance brewing in her vivid blue eyes.

  “No, you’re not. You can’t be,” she repeated.

  “I’m the new walk-on. I trained over spring. I haven’t been doing much at the past few games but warming the bench, but I’m on the team, even if the coach hates me.”

  “Great. This is just fantastic,” she muttered.

  “You know, you’re the only person I’ve met who’s been pissed that I’m a part of the team,” I responded, smirking.

  “It just means we’re going to see each other more than I ever thought we would.”

  “Is that so? Babe, you a team groupie?” I teased. “Am I gonna get to see you checking me out from the stands? Shit, do I need to worry about tackling your baby daddy?”

  “Funny,” she retorted. “As if I would let a Heron touch me.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, Flash, but you already did. With me.”

  “Yeah well, I didn’t know you were on the team then, so it doesn’t count. And now that I know, it won’t happen again. I don’t sleep with people who play with my daughter’s uncle, who also happens to be my best friend’s boyfriend. Way too incestuous.”

  I didn’t hear the shit about her daughter’s uncle. I didn’t think to ask any questions, too stuck on her comment that “it won’t happen again.” Like knives to my gut. After those words, everything else became white noise.

  She was right.

  I couldn’t help but yell at myself. What the hell am I doing here? Insisting on driving and coming to her damn house—where her daughter lives!

  I need to let her go.

  I started making excuses, reminded myself that I kept my promises. Told myself that in that moment I had to fulfill my role as her partner.

  I wouldn’t risk her getting too close to the shit I’d agreed to do or the crap choices I planned to make after they were all done.

  I was just going to help her.

  MILLIE

  Little girl giggles.

  That was the noise we heard when we finally walked into the house.

  All I wanted to do was follow the high-pitched squeals. I wanted to walk down the hallway to Jessie’s bedroom and soak in her eyes and smiles. I wanted to join my best friend in basking in my kid’s entire essence while I wasn’t tired, when she wasn’t hungry or grumpy.

  I desperately wanted to forget all about the project. Avoid the fact that I’d agreed to be a college football player’s partner for a class assignment—a clichéd recipe for disaster.

  But I knew if I didn’t finish the work now, there would be no time to work later, when she was demanding my attention or when I was struggling to keep my eyes open. So I ignored the sounds that pulled at the core of my being and led him to our small kitchen table.

  I’d probably made a terrible mistake bringing him home. I was thinking all about sexual self-preservation in the library, about the encouragement my imaginary Nate had given me. I wasn’t thinking about the realities of having a stranger in my house, about the invasive questions this invited. I had forgotten about the photographs I kept around the house that exposed my life.

  Deciding we would prepare our speeches at the kitchen table, I hid my panic in a strong stomp straight to the kitchen, avoiding the furniture that allowed for horizontal activity or ornaments that might’ve led to quizzical looks. I would kick him out before he could blink, and then I would be able to get to work early.

  “So, you live here long?” he queried as he looked at the small kitchen and high chair.

  Great. Small talk. I needed to move faster.

  “We moved in just after Jessie was born.” As I leaned over the table and started laying out the notes, I felt his eyes scanning the house, so I pretended that I was completely engrossed in deciding upon an art movement.

  “We have all night to do this assignment, Flash?”

  “No, I’ve actually got work in a couple of hours.”

  “Then maybe you should stop that.”

  “Stop what?

  “Trying to make a decision. It’s painful to watch. You should stop and let a pro handle this.”

  “Already predicting a professional career, huh? A tad conceited, but hey, you want to prove to me that you’re not a dumb jock, go right ahead,” I replied. “But I’m going to keep looking at the different movements until you decide to stop examining my hou
se and put your money where your mouth is.”

  COOPER

  SHE WAS BAITING ME.

  She was trying to tease me with her words, but it was her body that tormented me. Leaning over the kitchen table spreading out her notes caused her jeans to stretch across her ass, and my dick started twitching. It wanted me to grab either side of her hips and claim what was on display. It took every bit of my self-control not to press myself against the tight seam between her cheeks. It didn’t matter that it had only been minutes, I was already struggling to stick to the plan.

  I tried to keep myself in check by looking around the kitchen to find reminders that she was a mom, that we weren’t alone. However, there was nothing personal in the kitchen—only a rectangular wooden table, daisy-yellow cabinets, and an old white fridge. The space was clean and friendly, but clearly no one in this house spent very much time in this room.

  I needed her little girl to start giggling again.

  When we first walked in, I’d heard her down the hall and it was like an ice bath. A cute but strong reminder to get out of this house as fast as possible. I knew we needed to select an art movement, outline speaking roles, and divvy up responsibilities before I could leave. I planned on getting all that done in less time than it would take me to buckle my seat belt and drive away.

  Unfortunately, the house had gone silent. I could see the notes and pages of information we needed to shift through, but each time I looked at that damn table, my eyes were drawn to her luscious body. Every time she reached for another piece of paper, all I could see was red.

  When she groaned in frustration because a stack of her notes fell to the floor due to too much shifting, I felt it in my dick and gave in to temptation. I stepped directly behind her, pressed tightly against her ass, and reached for the paper directly in front of her thighs. I let my thumb casually brush against the edge of her jeans.

  “This one,” I told her huskily.

  The sound of her swallowing was her only reply. She was frozen.

  I pressed tighter into her ass and heard the soft exhale.

  “Read the name, Flash,” I whispered into her ear, stroking her earlobe with my tongue as my thumb lazily drew closer to the heat between her legs. I watched her bend her head, taking in not only the piece of paper but also my hand moving against her inner thigh.

  “De-De St-Stijl,” she stammered.

  “They look good?” I pressed my fingers firmly between her jeans and ran the length of her seam.

  “Ye-yes.”

  “How good?” I asked as my thumb found her clit and began rubbing hard circles over the warm fabric.

  “S-so good,” she moaned, pressing her backside into me.

  “How about now?” I couldn’t help rocking my hips into her ass as my fingers started working her harder and faster with each new rotation.

  “Oh God, yes—”

  “Hey, Mill, Jessie and I are ready to take off—” Suddenly a hot brunette walked into the kitchen with a baby on her hip. And as fast as she entered, she was walking out, yelling behind her, “Shit, so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Um, Jessie and I will be on our way—”

  While the brunette was rambling in the doorway, Millie and I straightened up. Her eyes were wide with shock and horror at being caught bent over the kitchen table. I couldn’t help but smile at her beautiful blue eyes, which suddenly filled with wrath. Directed straight at me.

  Thankfully whatever verbal lashing she wanted to send my way was saved by the sound of the front door opening, because she immediately turned toward where her friend had just left and called out, “Parker, get back in here. It’s nothing. We’re just studying.”

  I was hoping her friend wasn’t an idiot. I hoped she left and took the toddler with her, so I wouldn’t be meeting them both with a raging hard-on.

  When I heard footsteps getting closer to us, I remembered that I was not that lucky.

  “Well, studying art sure looks different than how I did it in high School,” her friend stated, struggling to swallow her chuckle. “You’re lucky your daughter is obsessed with playing with my earrings or she might grow up very confused when she has to study art.” She then turned her amber eyes to me and said, “You must be Simon.”

  “Cooper,” I corrected, glancing quizzically at Millie.

  “Oh, sorry, Cooper. I’m Parker. It’s really nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand but mine are kind of full here with this munchkin. Not to mention Jessie and I are all packed for our sleepover. And we really should be going.”

  “Damn. Sorry. You shouldn’t have to rush off because of—”

  “No, it wasn’t you. I promised my boyfriend I’d only be gone an hour. He doesn’t like it when I get more time with Jessie than he does. He’s a whiner when that happens, and I love him, but even I can’t stand listening to his jealous whining.”

  “You’re also rushing out of here so you can save all your good jokes for when I’m alone,” Millie scoffed as she walked forward to kiss her daughter’s cheek.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “If you say one word about us being in the kitchen, I won’t let you take her.”

  “You wouldn’t dare. Plus I know how little action this kitchen has seen, so I’d hate to joke about it. Gosh, did you even know you had this room?”

  “You’re hilarious,” Millie deadpanned.

  “I try. Anyway, Cooper, it was nice to meet you. Mill, pickup tomorrow round four?”

  “Sounds good,” Millie agreed.

  I stood there in silence as I watched Millie kiss the head of a little girl with brown curls. Thankfully I couldn’t see her face because she was too engrossed with playing with the brunette’s dangling earrings. I thought it was the only reason why I wasn't freaking out.

  How could I forget that she’s a single mom? I shouldn’t be touching her.

  No matter how much my fingers burned to continue what they started, I needed to remember that no single mom deserved the life that came with me.

  When the front door closed, she turned her mermaid eyes toward me and I shrugged off my self-loathing. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” she asked mockingly.

  “Babe, you were bent over the table,” I tried to explain.

  “It wasn’t an invitation,” she returned.

  “The fuck it wasn’t. You were seconds away from begging me to lick the damn envelope.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What’s ridiculous is snapping at me because you’re embarrassed and trying to act like you weren’t moaning beneath my fingers five minutes ago. You’re as guilty as I am prosecutor. Now if you’re done pretending that wasn’t mutually awkward as fuck, I’ve only got one question. How many names have you got for me? And if they exceed two, why the hell am I not allowed to call you Flash?”

  I watched the blush bloom across her cheeks. Then just as quickly, I noticed her inner steel straighten her spine. “You know what? Call me whatever you want,” she told me as she began to collect all the paper into a big pile. “I’m really too busy to argue with you.”

  “Yes, princess. Although I thought you were never too busy to argue. Now if you’re finished putting me in my place, why are you packing up? We not studying anymore?”

  “Clearly nothing stops you from touching me, so I think it’s best you leave.”

  “You know, most girls would take that as a compliment.”

  “I’m not most girls,” Millie stated as she turned to me and trapped me in her eyes. “I also don’t have time for whatever your presence might lead to. Now, I need to get ready for work. I’m happy to pay for the cab back to campus for you to grab your bike.”

  “You want me to leave so you can get ready for work? Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re full of shit. You’re afraid of whatever this is and worried that we can’t seem to stop ourselves from giving in to each other. We couldn’t in a crowded library or in a room right beside your daughte
r. We can’t seem to get our act together, but I’ll concede. I’ll leave so you can get ready for work, but we’re still doing the damn assignment together.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I repeated.

  “If I said no, would you listen?”

  “No.”

  “Then you can start the assignment. Next class, give me whatever you have done and I’ll finish it.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I told her. “Before you push me out the door, you got a bathroom here?”

  “Sure,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Second door on the right. I’ll just pack all this up for you to take with you.”

  I nodded and left the kitchen, running my fingers through my hair in exasperation as I made my way down the hall.

  I’m full of shit too.

  I have no control over whatever’s developing between us.

  If I had, I wouldn’t have been looking for family mementos as I made my way through her house, desperately hunting for more reminders that would cement the feeling I had when I saw her kiss her little girl.

  I was so close to dragging her into my world, making her one of those women who only got to see her partner in visitor rooms, across tables with guards watching close by.

  I needed something—anything—that might’ve been able to keep her protected from the need I was struggling to control when I was around her.

  I was hoping to discover the ropes that bound her to a future of school dances and dentist appointments.

  I found what I was searching for on a small table just past the bathroom: a collection of eight-by-seven-inch photographs documenting a teen’s journey into motherhood. I smiled at the photo of Millie sitting by a Christmas tree wearing a sweater with Rudolf the Reindeer’s red nose protruding due to the width of her growing pregnant belly. Examined the photo of Millie in a hospital bed, her red hair sticking to her forehead and a ‘just try and fuck with her and see what I can do’ expression on her face as she held a newborn wrapped in pink.

  However, I decided to memorize the image capturing her dozing beside a sleeping baby on a picnic blanket. Both of them were in identical sleeping positions, their left arms beneath their heads with their mouths pouting.