“Hot,” Joey says unnecessarily.
I nod. “Yup. You don’t touch it, right?”
“No.” He seems incredibly sincere for someone so small.
He has big blue eyes and his hair is dark. He’s a cute kid and the grin he gives me is sweet.
“I help?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, too hot. But you can watch what I do so maybe when you’re bigger, you’ll know how to light the fire and you can help your mom.”
He nods, bouncing on his toes happily. “Kay-kay.”
“Come eat!” Serena calls from the kitchen, and it’s a little surreal to pad into the small but pleasant kitchen. There are green and yellow curtains on the window, appliances that are probably functional but could use updating, and a cute little table set for three.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t know this woman and I don’t want to.
Do I?
There’s no denying how attractive she is. Tall, with long legs, pretty face, and a great ass. She has red hair too, which is one of myfavorite things. She’s more slender than I normally go for—I like a woman with curves—but she’s sexy in a quiet, subdued way.
No more single moms.
That’s been my mantra since my break-up with Briar. I got myself traded so I wouldn’t have to be around her and promised myself I’d never date another single mom. Yet here I am, picking one up on the side of the road, and essentially following her home.
Now she’s feeding me and we’re sitting at the table like a family.
How the fuck do I get myself into these situations?
Stupid snow.
If I was up north somewhere, this wouldn’t be much of a weather event, and I’d still be heading to the charity function.
However, the stew she spoons into my bowl smells delicious and my stomach growls in response.
“What’s the aroma?” I ask, narrowing my eyes thoughtfully. “It’s not a traditional beef stew. There’s something else in there…”
She smiles. “Paprika. I use a pinch and it gives it a more exotic flavor.”
I love a woman who can cook.
“It’s amazing,” I say after taking a bite. “Could I have your recipe?”
“Of course.” She sinks down next to Joey and cuts up the cubes of beef on his plate into smaller pieces.
“I do it, Mommy!” he protests when she tries to feed him.
“Right. Sorry.” She hides a smile. “I keep forgetting you’re a big boy now.”
“I’m big!” Joey tells me.
“I see that.” I take another bite of stew, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Remembering things I wish would go the fuck away.
Briar and me sitting at her table, her daughter Frankie chattering about anything and everything. The two of us planning our next date or discussing an upcoming hockey game. The intimacy we shared that had nothing to do with sex.