Looking back down into the box, I tried to pretend that I didn’t feel him staring at the side of my face. Trust me when I say it was almost as problematic as fighting the pull to do a quick crotch take.
“I have a couple of pairs of cut-offs I wear during the summer, but, yeah, this is the outfit for the job.” In terms of his crotch, I preferred these to his uniform, but in other ways, the uniform had it beat hands down. “Nice buns?”
I almost dropped the box when he asked the question and looked over to see him staring at my buns. My butt ones, not the box ones.
“Sorry?”
Slowly, he lifted them to meet my eyes. “You said nice buns.”
“No,” I drawled, feeling my cheeks getting hotter. “You just said it.”
The chuckle that came out of him was deep and husky, and I felt my toes curl in my flip-flops.
“Evie, honey, you said it before we even started talking this morning.”
Curses!
Jiggling the box at him, I made a point of showing him my alibi. He was a detective, so he’d appreciate the proof.
“Just did a run to the bakery for some buns—nice buns.”
Dusting his hands off on the legs of his pants, he moved closer to the small fence that separated our properties at the front. “What kind did you get?”
And then he did something that made the angels sing.
He lifted his leg over it, meaning that the sweats tightened across the bulge, making it even more visible.
Sweet Lord in a manger, I swear I saw veins and the outline of the head of his penis.
Was it possible to buy shares in just the style of a garment instead of the whole brand? Like a sponsor-a-sweatpant type of deal?
He had one leg on either side of it when I heard his husky laughter get louder. “Evie, you’re gonna drop the buns.”
Unable to look away, I moved my hand to try and straighten the box up, but that was as good as it got.
That was until the one thing that could snap me out of my stupor did just that.
“Mom, can you hurry the hell up? You texted like twenty minutes ago saying I had to be at the door five minutes ago. I’ve been waiting the whole time, and I’ve got stuff to get back to.”
Stuff meaning gaming. My eleven-year-old son rarely took time away from it unless he was going to school.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw my boy glaring at me from around the corner to the back of the house. My world was wrapped up neatly in one human being, but sadly his rarely involved me. All the hurt and pain caused by his dad had been balled up into one meteor that he kept hurling at me when it got too much for him, and it hurt.
And today appeared to be one of those days.
“Say hello to Detective Bell, Cody.”
His eyes cut over to Alex, and instead of saying the word, he just jerked his chin at him and looked back at me. “Can I go back to what I was doing yet? Some of us don’t have all day.”
“Cody,” I snapped, patience gone. “I forgot my keys this morning because I wanted to get something nice for you in the hope we’d actually have breakfast together like families do.
“I apologized when you gave me grief for forgetting them after you finally replied to my texts, but there’s no good reason for you to be rude to Detective Bell. Now, say hello, please.”
Ever the obstinate child, he glared over at Alex again. “Yo!”
“Cody,” Alex greeted back, his voice firm. “Wanna carry the box inside for your mom?”
Giving him a belligerent look, Cody shook his head. “Not really. She’s got arms and legs.”
Oh, my God, this was humiliating.
“That she does. But when someone goes out of their way to get you something like your mom’s done this morning, the polite thing to do is to assist her with it.”
Rolling his eyes, my son gave a small man sneer. “Whatever.”
“Okay then,” Alex drawled, his voice sounding closer to me now. “It’s just as well she invited me to join y’all. Seeing as how she has arms and legs to carry all this in, you’ve got arms and legs to get plates out, put the coffee on, and do the dishes afterward.”
His eyes widened at this. “Nuh uh, we’ve got a dishwasher that does all that.”
Not missing a beat, Alex took the box out of my numb hands. “Nuh uh,” he parroted back. “Your mom says it’s acting up, so I’m checking it out”—he leaned forward slightly—“after the dishes are done, ‘cause I’ll be needing the sink.”
Glaring at me, Cody snapped, “You can’t do this. I’ve got rights.”
I was done. “I’m thinking that given Detective Bell works as a law enforcement officer, he’s more aware of your rights than you are. I also think that I need to change the Wi-Fi password later so that you understand your behavior right now is horrific.”