My Mom's Ex-Husband (The Forbidden Fun)

I nod happily. “Yes, definitely.”

That’s one meal I don’t have to worry about. I eat at the diner for free whenever I work, but my refrigerator at home is bare and I’m still trying to make rent. I was probably going to have some canned beans if it weren’t for Faith and my dad.

As soon as Marcus disappears with the baby, my friend turns back to me with a bright gleam in her eyes.

“So you’re going right?”

I roll my eyes.

“I swear, you’re the worst mom ever.”

She giggles.

“If you ever start calling me Mom, I’ll disown you. But seriously, Hunter Stockton. You have to go since he’s a celebrity.”

I make a face.

“It’s worse that he’s a celebrity! Besides, not really. He’s just famous in skiing circles.”

She nods impatiently.

“How about this? If you’re worried, you can text me every hour on the hour so I know you’re safe. If you miss a text, I’ll send the cavalry in, meaning your dad. I promise.”

I shoot her a look.

“Why are you pushing this so hard?”

She shrugs mischievously.

“I want you to be happy because you’re my best friend. Plus, if he’s as hot as you say he is, then it’ll be worth it.”

I think for a moment. I guess Bella has a point. If I text her every hour, she’ll be able to rescue me if I need it. Besides, we live in a rinky-dink small town. There isn’t much criminal activity in Medina.

I stand up from the couch, my mind made up.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m going to do it because the guys in this city aren’t cutting it for me, and I’m not just talking about Jimmy. Most of the men I’ve met are pretty lame, at least so far.”

Bella jumps up, clapping. “Yay! You’re making a good choice, girlfriend. I’ll help you get ready.”

With that, we burst into a flurry of action. Of course, I don’t have to be at Hunter’s place until 9 p.m., but Bella wants to do my make-up and hair, and she’s good at it. Then, I run home to put on a little black dress and high heels. They make me appear sexy and vampy, and I stop for a moment, just staring at my reflection in the mirror. Am I really doing this? Am I going to go meet up with a hot guy whom I don’t even know?

A wicked smile crosses over my freshly-glossed lips. Why yes, I am, and I’m looking forward to tonight.

3

Hunter

* * *

I didn’t expect her to really show up. Sure, I left that note under my plate hoping the pretty young waitress from the diner would come tonight, but I never thought she’d really do it. Yet, here she is, standing on the front porch of my brand new house.

“Hi,” I say in a low voice. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hey,” Faith says shyly. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sure thing. Come in, sweetheart.”

I stare at Faith’s back as she enters my home. Her black dress barely covers her ass, which is heart-shaped and deliciously plump. My cock is immediately hard against my jeans. Fuck, that looks good. I’m glad I didn’t change into the sweatpants I usually wear at home because my hose would be totally visible, wrapped around my waist with desire.

“This is a really nice house,” Faith says innocently, mincing into the living room. “Did you just move in?”

I nod.

“Yeah, sorry about the mess. I haven’t gotten a chance to totally unpack just yet.”

When I say this is my new house, I mean it’s really new. I moved in three days ago, and the living room is a disaster with half-unpacked boxes strewn around, furniture wrapped in saran wrap, and all my house plants lined up against one wall. Good thing I had the couch delivered yesterday, so at least we have a place to sit. And of course, my bed is upstairs. I made sure to have the important things ready right away. Maybe I’m a jackass but with a woman this beautiful, I’m not taking chances. Meanwhile, I gesture to the sofa.

“Make yourself at home, sweetheart. Can I offer you a drink?”

She smiles shyly.

“Oh, sure. Whatever you’re having is fine.”

I head into the kitchen and lean against the counter. The options are limited because I haven’t really stocked up yet, which means right now, I have a six-pack of light beer and a bottle of wine. Great, just great.

I grab the bottle of wine and pour it into two plastic cups because the actual wineglasses are somewhere in a box in the living room. Then, I bring the entire bottle with me when I return to the living room.

Faith giggles when she sees the red plastic cups.

“Nice,” she remarks before taking a tentative sip of the wine.

“Good, right?” I laugh. “The cups make me feel young again, like I’m at a frat party.”