Page 24

My stomach jumps, and I exhale a nervous laugh. I won’t lie, Bossy Jack is hot as fuck.

Licking my bottom lip, I nod, and he puts his hands on my face, both thumbs on my cheeks. The intensity in his gaze shallows my breath. If I were wearing panties, they’d be soaked.

He holds me, but as he studies my expression, he seems to soften. Lifting his chin, he kisses my forehead.

“Get in the truck.” Releasing me, he walks around the front of the vehicle.

I try not to collapse on the spot—or drop all of my things. I open the door and hop inside. It takes less than five minutes to get to my house, and I hold his hand the entire way.

My entire body is lit with excitement, euphoria, elation… all the E -emotions I can summon. I spent all night with Jack Bradford. I’m smiling as I gaze at the brightening sky through the windshield.

“What are you singing?” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of my fingers as we pull into my driveway.

“Was I singing?” I try to think. “I have no idea… I didn’t even realize.”

“Fuck, Allie.” He laughs, pulling me closer and kissing my neck. “You are so damn cute.”

His words flood warmth through my entire body.

“Now get out of here before we’re busted.”

“Yes, sir!” A laugh hiccups on my breath, and he shakes his head .

The hint of a smile curling his lips has me floating all the way into my small house.

“What time did you get home last night?” I look up as Austin scuffles into the kitchen.

I’m sitting at the table holding a cup of coffee and reading the Library Journal ’s newsletter on my phone. I’ve changed out of Jack’s jersey and boxer shorts, and now I’m in black leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

He exhales a grunt, holding the counter as he hops over to pull a Mountain Dew from the fridge.

“That late?” I tease, putting my foot down and hopping up to give him a hug before checking the oven. “I made Pillsbury cinnamon rolls. Want one?”

Another harumph, but he nods. “I want all of them.”

Going to stand by my big boy, I muss the front of his long brown bangs. “You never were much of a morning person. But you still have to share.”

An exhale huffs through his nose, and he lifts his chin. “What time did you get home last night?”

My brow rises, and I peek over at him from where I’m glazing the rolls.

He’s watching me, and I force a laugh. “What do you mean?”

“When I got home, your bedroom door was open.” He hops over to sit at the table and put his foot up on a chair. “You were not in bed.”

“Ahh…” I scrub the front of my hair, trying to think. “What time was that?”

I feign confusion, but he’s a smart guy. I’m not going to get away with anything if I’m not convincing.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look. One?”

“Austin! You were out past midnight?”

“Mom.” His head tilts to the side, and he levels his eyes on me. “We just won our first game of the season. We were all together at the bonfire. You know that.”

I do know that. It’s a longstanding Newhope tradition—at least with the football team and the cheerleaders, and I guess the drill team? After every home game, they build a bonfire on the beach, listen to music, and do whatever teenagers do.

They don’t get into trouble. At least, I hope they don’t.

“I was a little restless last night, too.” True. “I went for a walk at some point, I guess that must’ve been when you got home.”

“Dang, Mom!” His voice is a hiss. “You’d let me have it if I did that. It’s dangerous.”

Twisting my lips, I can’t decide if I’m incredibly proud of him or annoyed that my teenager is so damn responsible.

“You’re right.” I nod, carrying the plate of cinnamon rolls to the table. “I did not use good judgment, and I’m really lucky we live in such a safe place as Newhope. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

I take a cinnamon roll off the plate, using a napkin to hold it.

“Okay.” He shrugs, taking a small roll and stuffing the entire thing into his mouth.

My mind wanders to where I was last night, and a little smile curls my lips as I take a small nibble of my roll. I wonder what Jack is doing right now. I think about being his dirty little secret, and a thrill moves through my body.

“What’s that face about?” He shoves another whole roll into his mouth.

I jump, schooling my features, when I see the pan. “Jeez, Austin! You’ve eaten four already!”

“They’re small!” he argues through the mass of cinnamony dough in his mouth.

It’s another reminder of what he was like not so long ago, and while I love him as an almost-man, I do miss my little guy sometimes .

“It’s fine,” I relent. “I’ll probably only have this one.”

If I’m going to be doing stripteases, I’ll definitely need to be cutting back on the sugar for sure. Maybe add a little strength training to the mix, sculpt my muscle tone. Look better naked.

“What did you want to talk about before?” He shifts in his chair, taking the last roll from the plate.

Standing, I go to refill my coffee cup, a lead weight pressing down on my chest. I have so much shame around the choices I made as a young woman.

I know I wouldn’t have Austin if it weren’t for Rip, but at the same time, I wish I’d picked a better man to be his dad.

A man like Jack—a man who has actually been a better dad to him than his own father.

Walking back to the table, I watch him slowly unrolling the final cinnamon bun like a spool of ribbon.

Clearing my throat, I sit forward in my chair, cupping the mug in both hands. “Do you ever think about your dad?”

He shifts in his chair, his slim brows furrowing over his eyes. “No.”

I bite the side of my lip, wondering if his anger is okay or if I should try to get him to talk about it more—if not to me, to someone.

“Well… you know how he’s been in prison?” He gives me a faint nod, and I continue. “He’s out now. On parole. It’s very recent, less than a month ago.”

“I hope he doesn’t try to come here and bother us.” His voice rises slightly, and I wince.

“I don’t think he can leave the state.” My voice remains low, and I hate this. “But it’s important for you to know what’s going on.”

“Is that why you bought the house alarm?”

“Yes… And it’s why we have to use it.”

“You’re worried he might come here.” It’s not a question.

Nodding, I study my plate. “He said he’d be back. I don’t know what that means or what he thinks will happen. ”

Austin scoots around, closer to hug me. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll protect us.”

My heart breaks a little. He shouldn’t have to.

But I do what I always do—try to find a silver lining in this shit-cloud.

I trace his wavy bangs off his forehead. “We’re in a good place, a safe place, where we’re surrounded by friends and allies. Garrett knows what to do, and Liv is prepared to file a restraining order. I just don’t want to give him an opening.”

Austin shakes his head. “Why would he bother me?”

“He probably won’t.”

I don’t want him to worry. I don’t want him to think about this.

I want him to have the best senior year with his friends. I want him to play football and be QB-1 and make all the good memories he deserves.

“That’s all.” I lift my chin, doing my best to smile. “As far as I know, he doesn’t even know where we live now, which means hopefully you won’t even have to think about it.”

His lips pull down on one side with a frown. “But you still think about it.”

Leaning forward I pull him into another hug, my caring son. “The Bradfords were all there when I got the alert on my phone, so they know. I’m not worried about your dad. I’ve dealt with him before. Hell, I used to live with the guy.”

“Before he went to prison.”

It’s a sentiment that makes my blood run cold, because it’s true. Rip was a hard man, wild and unpredictable before he was busted for dealing large quantities of drugs. I can only imagine what he’s like after seven years in Angola.

Sitting back in my chair, I level my gaze on my son. “Do something for me, will you?”

“Sure.”

“Live your life. Have the best year, and don’t let him steal anything from you. I’ll let you know if something changes. Can you do that?”

He nods, holding the table as he stands. “I’ll have a better year once this ankle heals.”

“It will, and Jack said you’ll have your time to shine. We’re just getting started.”

“Jack?” He cuts me a look, and I stand, carrying my mug to the sink.

“That’s his name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t know you knew it.”

“Well, that’s silly, as long as we’ve all known each other. I’m getting ready for yoga class. I told Rachel I’d meet her at Miss Gina’s.”