Every inch of this tall, delectable man was. But I have no business thinking about that now… or ever again.
Guiltily, my gaze drops to his faded jeans, covered in smudges of brown dirt and dust that are the same color as his boots and the hair curling around the edge of his beanie. In May. Because that’s how Jesse Enders rolls.
“Hey.” He interrupts my inventory with a casual smile and a subtle lift of his chin. There’s also a sparkle in those light eyes that says he caught me looking but won’t call me on it, because it’s not like that with us anymore.
“Hi.” I return the grin with a sigh. Despite hating these exchanges, I’m grateful he’s the one I have to do them with. We might not have worked out—heck, we never even were—but Jesse is more than just a handsome face and a fond memory—he’s a great guy, too.
His lips twitch ever so slightly before he turns back to Jett. “Guess what, buddy?”
“What?”
“I put new sand in your sandbox and it’s all set for you to race that car around this weekend.”
While Jett lets out an excited hoot, I reach up to ruffle his hair. “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” Then to Jesse, I say, “I’ve heard a lot about this sandbox. From the way he makes it sound, it’s the size of a football field.”
Jesse tips his head back and forth dramatically. “Give or take a few yards.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” This man doesn’t do anything half-assed, case in point the little look-a-like in his arms.
“Hey, when you work with dirt for a living, you gotta have the best sandbox in town.” He flashes that megawatt white smile once again, and I can’t help but laugh.
“So, how is work?” I ask, following them outside, where his black monstrosity of a truck with a yellow Enders Excavating logo in the back window sits in my driveway.
The late day sun streams through wispy clouds as a light breeze dances in the air. I pull in a deep breath just to keep the nerves at bay, only to get a nose full of the clean linen and spicy citrus scent wafting off of the man walking ahead of me.
“Work is pretty good,” he says, while I rub my nose. Dammit, Jesse. “Busy as hell now that the weather’s finally nice, but I’m not complaining.” He hits the key fob and opens the rear passenger door, revealing a booster seat. On the other side, a hodgepodge of toys lies alongside a Yeti cooler, a case of blue Gatorade, and a laptop bag that’s in the exact same spot it was two weeks ago.
I’d say he’s more than busy, but we have a co-parenting arrangement, not necessarily a friendship that permits me to express concern about how hard he’s working. But I can offer to help where Jett is concerned.
“Are you ever going to give in and let me meet you halfway? Or even let me bring him all the way to Cole Creek? It’s well past my turn, you know.”
He shoots me another grin, this one over his shoulder, as he sets Jett in the seat. “I appreciate the offer, but you know I’m never going to take you up on it. Might as well quit asking.”
“You’re so stubborn.” I elbow him out of the way playfully, so I can buckle Jett in and kiss him goodbye. Just one of the unspoken rituals we’ve established over the years. “Whatever you do,” I tell our son before pressing a kiss to his forehead, “...do not inherit that trait from your daddy.”
Jett smirks. “Love you, Mama.”
“I love you, too, baby. You be extra good this weekend, okay?” I nuzzle his neck and pepper his face with kisses, while trying not to think too much about the part where they actually back out and leave.
“Hey, I meant to ask...” Jesse speaks up behind me. “Are you still doing that thing next Saturday?”
The thing in question is a surprise birthday party for a certain little boy, currently driving his car on my shoulder and into my hair. When I pull back, blonde strands hang from the wheels. “We are. Did you decide if you’re coming or not?”
“If you don’t think it’ll be too weird, I’d like to.”
Oh, it’ll be weird, but that’s not reason enough for him to stay away or me to withhold the invitation.
“He’ll love that.” A hundred more kisses, fifty I love yous, and a half-dozen goodbyes later, I close the door for a few moments of privacy. “We’re just going to my parents’ because of the pool. They haven’t opened it up yet, so he’ll be excited about that. It’ll just be us, my sister and her kids, and some of Lane’s family.”
Jesse runs a hand around the back of his neck before tucking it into his pocket. “If you’d rather I not...”
“You’re his dad.” I leave it at that, because nothing more needs to be said.
He nods, and I think we’ve both figured out that, as Jett gets older, things are going to be awkward from time to time, especially with our families. But it’s the price we pay in order to raise Jett the best we can, given the circumstances.
“Speaking of Lane, I haven’t seen him in a while. He good or…?”
“Yep. He’s just in the shower.” And avoiding as much of this as he can. While Lane and Jesse are generally civil to one another, it hasn’t always been this way.
“Ah. Well, tell him his rear passenger tire looks a little low. Might want to have someone look at it.”
Really? I cock my head to the side and laugh. “I think he can handle putting air in his tire.”
Jesse smirks. “Sure.”
God.
We stand there for several drawn-out beats, me rolling my eyes, thinking he couldn’t possibly be any cockier, and him thinking God only knows what. These exchanges have definitely gotten easier over the years, but they’re still awkward. We’ve seen each other naked after all.
Jett is the very best thing that’s ever happened to me, but he is also a constant reminder of how quickly a few reckless decisions can permanently change the direction of one’s life.
Or, in this case, four lives.
Because the man in the house? We’ve been together for seven and a half years.
And the son Jesse and I share? He’s about to turn four.
Chapter 2
JESSE
“Can I ask her, Dad?” Jett bats his big, puppy dog eyes at me with a stripe of chocolate frosting smeared across his cheek.
Hayden would kill me if she knew about all of the crap he’s been eating lately, but I give him a wink anyway. What his “mumma” doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and it’s not just cake I’m thinking about.
“Go ahead, little man. It’ll be your bedtime snack, though. It’s getting late.”
Jett makes a victory fist and calls out to the Polish Paula Dean doing dishes across the room. “Grammy, can I have more cake, please?”
Ma tosses a raised eyebrow over her shoulder. “More cake? How about more broccoli instead?”
“No way!” He makes a face, even though he cleaned up the mountain of green I’d put on his plate at dinner.
“Why the heck not?” My old man glances over the top of his newspaper, glasses balanced on the end of his nose. “How do you expect to get big and strong like your dad and uncles if you don’t eat lots of vegetables?”