Just a date. No outward evidence of kissing, touching, fucking.
Breathe . . .
“Where did Sophia go?” Ignoring my question, Fee instead directs her attention to Lulu once more.
“She left when Uncle Car got here. We’ve been watching a movie. Come and watch it with us. Pleeease!”
“You sent her home?” Fee glances my way, though she doesn’t look at me for nearly long enough.
“The kid looked kind of uncomfortable being here with me, so I paid her”—plus an extra fifty that she was very excited about—“and she left.”
“I’m not surprised, seeing as how you made her blush last time you were here. Oh, don’t worry about it,” she adds airily. “I doubt you even notice the effect you have on women.”
“I notice the effect I have on you,” I kind of purr.
“Yes, on account of the hives, I suppose you would.”
“Blush, not hives.”
“Sophia was supposed to wait for her cousin to pick her up,” she says, moving swiftly on, though I doubt even she thinks turning her head is going to hide her sudden colour in her cheeks. I love it when I’m proved right.
“Her dad is working tonight, right? So I guess she’ll be sitting in the back office right now losing brain cells to her social media accounts.”
“I suppose.”
“What’s the problem? She got paid premium for a couple of hours of work, and now she’s hanging out, virtually, with her friends. And we watched a movie. Everyone wins.” Especially me, now that Fee’s home looking so pristine.
Read: untouched by teacher-boy’s hands.
“Well, thank you.” Her thanks seem uncomfortable, but I’m happy she’s not about to fight me over the babysitter’s money.
“Been anywhere nice?” I ask, my tone mild.
“To the cinema,” she returns similarly.
Fuck the cinema. What kind of man would want to share her attention on a date? A fucking idiot because this is the kind of woman who deserves all of your attention. She should be draped with diamonds and showered in champagne and caviar. She deserves the very best, not carpets sticky with soda and a hundred other people on the same fucking date.
“Was the movie a good one?” Lulu continues with her barrage of questions.
“Did he buy you candy?” I kind of taunt.
“Uncle Car?” Lulu lays her hand on my arm. “Did you know Mommy loves Reeces’s penis?”
Fucking what? Charles and the teacher and now Reece? My eyes skate to Fee, her shoulders shaking with a bout of laughter she’s struggling to contain.
“It’s true.” She nods. “I really do.”
“This Reece . . .” Fuck. Fuck! “Do you think this is maybe something you shouldn’t be telling your kid?”
“Did a bit of popcorn go the wrong way down, Uncle Car?” Lu leans over the back of the couch and begins slapping my back.
“Maybe Uncle Carson would like some Reese’s Pieces to help the popcorn go down.”
“Ha.” Blow out a breath. “Real funny. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Oh?” So much meaning in that one airily delivered little sound.
And that’s another smack to her ass as punishment.
“You thought I’d been out with someone called Reece?” she asks. Heckles. Whatever.
Dating Reece would be bad enough. Becoming aquainted with Reece’s penis would be fucking unacceptable.
“Actually, my date was called Leo.” A superior little smile plays about her lips. She’s not high on her date. She’s high on fucking with me. Torturing me.
As Lulu takes the opportunity to run around the sectional to sit next to me, I find myself leaning over the back of the sofa a little more.
“And how was Leo’s p—” Penis? No. “Performance?”
“As a movie companion? A little poor.” She slides her scarf from her neck, looping it over the back of the couch and pressing her hand atop. “He talked all the way through. Apparently, he doesn’t understand French, despite working at a French-speaking school. And he slurps, too.” Something they have in common. “What are you smiling at?”
“Me? Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Mommy, come and watch the movie with us.” Lulu tugs on Fee’s hand, and she allows herself to be led to the front of the couch. “You sit here,” she says, directing her mother to sit on my right. “And I’ll sit here,” she announces, happily climbing between us. “There, we’re a Lulu sandwich now!”
“I think that Uncle Carson is more used to being the centre of attention,” Fee murmurs pointedly as she folds her arms.
I slide my arm across the back of the seating, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Am I at the centre of your attention, Fiadh?”
“Annoyance, more like.”
“Attention is attention.”
“You would see it that way.” Her words might be cool, but her cheeks are not. I know she’s as affected as I am sitting close to the person you want but tell yourself you can’t have. I’m just a little ahead of the curve. “But you do you,” she adds airily.