wasn’t looking at him but he wanted to put his finger on something and couldn’t find it.
But really, I was done.
“Aaron, my son,” I prompted.
My ex-husband turned his attention back to me.
Then he got close and that was when I felt Joker get tense.
But Aaron stopped and I watched as he bent his neck to kiss Travis’s baby head.
“’Night, little guy,” he whispered.
Ugh.
Carefully, he transferred our son to me, and once I had him, I cuddled him close.
Aaron looked at me.
“You look good, Carissa,” he murmured.
Another lie. I didn’t. Unfortunately, on my first date with the handsome biker Joker I was in my LeLane’s uniform, my hair in a ponytail, and my makeup was ten hours old. There hadn’t been time to change into my tube top.
But I was totally wearing my tube top when I met Aaron with our attorneys. He might be shocked but I didn’t give a hoo-ha. He could kiss my behind.
“Goodnight, Aaron.”
He stared into my eyes.
I sighed and allowed myself to look bored.
“’Night, Riss,” he whispered.
Ugh again.
He hadn’t called me Riss since high school.
Jerkface!
I said nothing.
Aaron turned from me, gave Joker an unhappy look, and moved to the door.
Joker sauntered there as well and didn’t hesitate to shut and lock it the minute Aaron stepped outside.
“I need to see to Travis,” I announced when he turned my way. “I don’t have any beer or anything but grab whatever. Turn on the TV. Take a load off. I’ll be out in a bit.”
“You need to write that shit that just happened down, baby. We’ll go over it together to make sure you didn’t miss anything. And then you call it in to Angie tomorrow.”
“Right. We’ll do that after Travis is down.”
Joker was studying me closely. “You okay?”
“I’m fabulous,” I told him. “He’s scared and he thinks he can play me. But I’m done with his games. I just want him to sort himself out so I can take care of my son the way he deserves and get on with my life.”
On that, I turned away and headed to the bedroom.
So it was unfortunate I missed Joker staring after me, at first disbelievingly.
Then he was smiling.
* * * * *
I was camped out on the couch.
No, correction.
I was camped out on Joker who was stretched out on his back on the couch.
There had been no making out, which was disappointing.
But when I came back from putting Travis to bed, Joker and I sat at my bar as I recorded Aaron’s visit.
Done with that, we headed to the couch, Joker going before me. So when I moved in front of him, he’d grabbed my hips and pulled me to the cushions, him on his back, me on him, me mistakenly tensing in a good way, thinking he was instigating a make out session. But that had been all he did.
I liked the way he kissed. I wanted more.
But something about this was (almost) better.
Part of that better was that Joker sensed this—and not a hot and heavy make out session—was what I needed.
Most of that better was that this was exactly what I needed even though I didn’t know I needed it because until then, I didn’t really know it existed.
To veg out in front of the TV, relaxing, mind clearing, body melting, Joker’s fingers gently teasing my ringlets, his hard body warm and strong beneath me, his breath coming steady and easy.
Just that. Just us. Just nothing.
Nothing taxing.
Nothing exhausting.
Nothing annoying.
Nothing upsetting.
Okay, so also nothing exciting.
But I found lying on Joker that I liked this kind of nothing.
It wasn’t the same as having nothing when you were alone.
It was vastly different.
And I liked that different a whole lot.
“You drink beer,” I mumbled, my voice quiet and kind of sleepy because I was the same.
“Is that a question or a statement?” Joker’s deep biker voice vibrated under my cheek.
“It’s a statement.”
“Then I’ll confirm. I drink beer.”
I grinned against his chest. “I’ll get some in.”
“I’ll bring some.”
“I can get it.”
“You know what I like?”
“Uh…no.”
“Then I’ll bring it.”
I’d allow that but only because if it was in my fridge, I’d see it so I could replenish it when it ran out.
“That question mean I’m comin’ back?”
He wanted that.
I did too.
I melted deeper into him and pressed my cheek into his chest.
That was part of my answer.
The rest of it was, “You’re way more comfy than my couch.”
His fingers stopped playing with my hair so they could tangle in it.
That wasn’t part of his answer, it was his whole one.