Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Not surprising.” Denver gestured around us at the relative remoteness. Standing, he brushed off his chef pants before offering me a hand. “Let’s head back so you can make that call.”
“No outdoor sex?” I didn’t drop his hand. Silly little thing, but it felt right, letting him lead me back to the truck.
“Not this morning,” he said lightly.
“Tonight?” I knew from things he’d said in passing that Mondays were his usual day off. “Wait. Not tonight. I volunteered to work on Eric’s carriage house after dinner. The space has great potential for another roommate, but it needs cleaning.”
“I’m not afraid of getting dirty.” Denver climbed back into the truck, expression placid as ever.
“That you offering to help?”
“I guess it is.” He sounded as surprised at his agreement as I was. And it was another step toward friendship, two activities in one day with limited potential for sex. Although the carriage house did have a locking door, a thought that kept me warm all the way back to town.
Chapter Thirteen
Denver
Dusk settled over the neighborhood as I arrived at Sean’s place after dinner, ready to work in old clothes and toting the small toolbox I kept in the back of the truck. I wasn’t sure what we’d need, but I wanted to be prepared. I used the same justification for the lube packets and condom in my pocket. I wasn’t truly expecting sex, especially after Sean’s last twenty-four hours, but I wouldn’t turn it down either.
I could hear voices and laughter filtering in from the backyard, so I didn’t bother with the doorbell. I trudged around the house and was pleased to note that the barbecue explosion didn’t seem to have done any lasting damage. The middle kid, Rowan, lounged on the deck in pink running shorts and a gray sweatshirt advertising a theater camp. No surprise there. The dog sprawled at his feet. The youngest teen, Wren, was crouched over a small glass aquarium.
I smiled to myself. It might be deadly bugs or reptiles, but at least it wasn’t fire tonight. On the grass, Sean was throwing a football for John. Nowhere near fall, but John seemed the kind of jock to be focused year-round.
“Throw it higher. Make me work,” John called to Sean, who was wearing a faded T-shirt for a firefighter pancake breakfast fundraiser and loose shorts.
“Remember, I wasn’t a quarterback. That was Tony, not me.” Sean laughed as he threw it again, a perfect pass right to John’s waiting hands. John caught the ball and launched into a sprint, dodging lawn chairs and a mower as Sean called out tips. “Stay low, don’t get ahead of your feet.”
Thinking of our earlier conversation, I wondered if Sean missed his kids being high-school age. He would have been a good dad, involved and supportive. Everything I hadn’t had, but I wasn’t jealous as much as grateful people like Sean existed. Kids needed people like him, and it was clear from how he’d talked about Declan earlier that he loved his kid deeply. What would affection like that feel like? I had no clue.
In no hurry to announce my presence, I leaned against Sean’s truck, which was parked near the carriage house. Given the age of the house, the older, freestanding structure that was a cross between a cottage and a garage could easily predate the automobile era. The whole scene felt like a throwback, something out of a movie or idyllic memory.
“Hey, you.” Sean smiled widely when he finally noticed me in between throws to John. “You play any sports?”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “Wasn’t that big on school, let alone team sports.”
Not to mention, sports cost money foster families didn’t often have. And being on a team and developing athletic skills were benefits of being in one place for a decent amount of time, a luxury I’d seldom had.
“You probably could have been on the offensive line.” John jogged over next to Sean. “Or defense. Wanna try to tackle me?”
“Uh…”
“It’s getting late.” Sean saved me by gesturing back at the house. “Homework. Showers. You know the drill.”
“Homework.” John made a disgusted noise.
“I can do your geometry,” Wren called out. “Since it’s so hard for you.”
John made a face, but Sean held up a hand before sibling bickering could break out.
“Why don’t you work on that human geography project? Jonas should be done eating by now, and I bet he’d be happy to look over it for you.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, the three of you need to at least make an attempt at homework. Jonas will be around to say goodnight at nine-thirty. Be sure to have showered.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Rowan stood and stretched, the dog following him in. John groaned again before jogging toward the back door himself.
Which left Wren eyeing me suspiciously from the deck. “Why are you here?”