I deleted the message without replying, and then immediately regretted it. Fucking-A. What the hell did I want from this dude? More layers of inappropriateness to add to his eight year old’s birthday party? Nah. I needed to forget about last night, get through the party, and then forget Isha Hussain existed.
Because life was that simple, right?
* * *
Of course it wasn’t.And I’d never known it more than when I glanced up from my lunch to see Isha approaching the shop with two beautiful kids in tow.
“Shit.” I stood, wiping my mouth, and dumped my half-eaten butty in the bin. Morrissey was out on the counter. Recalling Isha’s previous reaction to loose reptiles, I scooped him up and dropped him onto my shoulder just as the shop door opened.
The young boy skipped to the counter, vibrating with excitement.
“Tam.” Isha’s deep voice filled the shop, resonating in my every nerve. “No running. Calm, remember?”
“I remember.” Tam bounced to a stop in front of me, bright gaze fixed on Morrissey. “No one-hundred-million-billion questions, either.”
“Questions are allowed,” I cut in before Isha could speak. “You just have to listen to the answers before you ask the next one.”
“You talk funny.”
“Tam.”
I laughed. “Nah, mate. I’m Welsh.”
Tam was clearly mystified, but I didn’t dare chance a glance at Isha. His very presence had me wound so tight I could barely breathe; I didn’t fancy my luck at getting lost in his chiselled cheek bones and sharp, seductive eyes. It had taken every second of the last four days to put myself back together from the last time I’d seen him.
Isha sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands, legs spread. Somehow, his dick was half-hard. “You okay getting home? I can drive you if you want?”
“I got an Uber. Thanks for the offer, though.” I couldn’t stop staring at his dick. I’d had him inside me too many times to count on one hand, but my body still cried out for more. The dude was a fucking sorcerer, there was no other logical explanation for the spell he’d cast on me.
Swallowing hard, I turned my attention to the little girl hiding behind Isha’s legs. She had long dark hair, brown skin, and the kind of fear in her eyes that broke my heart when kids came into the shop.
I let Morrissey clamber down my arm and beckoned her forwards. “Do you likeSesame Street?”
“What’sSesame Street?”
“It’s a TV show, duh,” Tam said. “One of those old ones Dad tries to make us watch because he doesn’t likePaw Patrol.”
Isha made a sound low in his throat. Could’ve been a laugh, but without looking at him, I couldn’t be sure.
“Anyway,” I ploughed on. “Get your dad to let you watch it sometime so you can see Sammy the Snake.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s cute, just like all the snakes I have here.”
The little girl’s eyes widened. “You have snakes here?”
“I told you that, D,” Isha said. “This is the reptile shop, kiddo. Jude’s got all kinds of animals here.”
He said my name. It shouldn’t have mattered. Somehow it did.
The little girl ventured closer to the counter. Morrissey chose his moment and eased himself off my hand, right into her eye line. She frowned, tiny body tense, and darted a glance over her shoulder, caught between fear and fascination. I let her be and turned back to Tam.
“So…it’s your birthday party coming up, right?”
“Yeah.” Tam bounced on the balls of his feet. “Dad says you let him touch your snake.”
“I did.” I stifled the hysterical laugh building in my chest. “I think he was scared of it, though.”