Risky (Adventures in Love 2)

The logical side of me knows I shouldn’t hold Lex’s parents responsible for him not wanting to be a part of Sampson’s life, but the illogical side of me wants nothing to do with anything having to do with him, including his family. A minute after I send the text, he texts back one letter—K—and I can do nothing but roll my eyes.

After turning my phone facedown on the desk, I get back to work. I can only deal with one issue at a time, and right now, I need to work, not stress about my ex or the fact that I’m going to have to spend time alone with Blake.

Dressed in jeans, one of my college sweatshirts, and my sneakers, I tie my hair up into a ponytail, then look at my reflection and the bags under my eyes that are screaming for concealer. Last night, Sampson slept great. I, on the other hand, tossed and turned, overthinking the phone call I’d had with Lex before I went to bed. I told him that after thinking about it the last few days, I would meet his mom and dad at noon on Saturday for lunch at the Root, and he let me know that he would unsurprisingly not be there.

He also let me know that his new girlfriend would be moving in with him soon, so after meeting his parents, I shouldn’t text him but instead use his mom as a go-between. Of course I asked, “A go-between for what?” since he made it clear he doesn’t want a relationship with Sampson, and he told me not to be “dramatic.” I then proceeded to lose my mind before hanging up on him. How I could be so wrong about someone is anyone’s guess, but one thing is for sure—I’m not a good judge of character, and men suck.

With a sigh, I poke my head into Sampson’s room. I make sure he’s okay, then end up adding foundation, blush, and mascara and filling in my brows before getting Sampson dressed for the day. I walk down the stairs with him on my hip, and my brows drag together when I hear my mom and a man both laughing from the direction of the kitchen.

Curious who’s here, I head around the corner, and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I see Blake sitting at the island with my mom, the two of them drinking coffee and smiling. Lord, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Blake really smile, and that’s probably a good thing based on the way my stomach feels, seeing it now.

“Da, da, da!” Sampson screeches, causing me to jump and Blake and Mom to turn my way. Blake’s eyes lock with mine for a moment, something in them making me feel warm. “Da, da, da, da!” he yells louder as he thrusts his body forward to get down.

“That’s Blake, baby,” I tell him gently as I place him on his feet, and he starts screaming, “Blay, Blay!” as he runs across the room and right to Blake. I let out a long sigh as I watch Blake bend to pick him up and hold him over his head, grinning and looking like a magazine ad. Seriously, it’s annoying that I can still find him attractive. Then again, I’m guessing most women would find him handsome, with his blondish hair, scruffy jaw, and lumberjack look he’s got going on today, including a red-and-black flannel with a vest over it.

“Hey, big guy,” he says, and Sampson’s laughter rings through the room. Dragging my eyes off them, I look over at my mom and roll my eyes at the look of awe on her face, and she turns my way, quickly clearing the expression.

“Hey, honey, you look cute.” She pushes up off the stool she’s on, and I rub my hands down the front of my jeans. “Do you want some coffee?”

“I can get it.” I walk past Blake and Sampson, who are now carrying on a conversation, and grab a to-go mug from the cupboard. As I’m filling my cup, Blake places Sampson on his feet, then lets him lead him across the space to the living room where his toys are, and Mom comes over to stand next to me.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I should have sent you a text or something to let you know he was here already.”

“It’s fine,” I whisper back, and her hand gently brushes a stray tress off my forehead.

“Are you sure?”

Hearing the concern in her voice, I meet her gaze. “Yeah.” I plaster a smile on my face, and her shoulders relax.

“Sampson seems to really like him?” The statement sounds almost like a question.

“He does.” I take a sip of my coffee while glancing into the living room, where Blake is now sitting on the floor with Sampson, playing blocks with him. “He acted the same way when we were at Tanner’s for dinner. Wherever Blake went, he wanted to go.”