With a passing nod to them both, I lift my son from the office floor. Masey is right behind me, arms outstretched.
So this is what it’s like to have another pair of hands who can make these little tasks easier. I’ve envied my brother. Harlow is a great mom, always concerned with Nolan’s happiness and welfare. She and Noah are a parenting team, while I’ve been flying solo and wondering if I’m bound to be fifty percent worse because I’m alone.
“Thanks,” I murmur as I set him in her arms.
Ranger goes happily, and Masey smiles down at him in a gesture that makes my heart flip. “I got the good part. You can carry his stuff.”
Her quip makes me chuckle. Even Ranger grins at Masey. Then we’re out the door with a wave and heading back to my place.
Once we arrive, we drop off all the boxes. I deliver Masey’s suitcases to my bedroom while she heats up a bottle for Ranger. When he’s done eating, I change him and give him a pacifier. The moment Masey picks him up again, he’s out cold.
“Damn,” I mutter.
“What? Not nap time?”
I glance at my phone. “No, it is. But it’s already after noon. I’m starved.”
“Me, too. I can cook.”
“No. If you have to work most of the evening, I’m not making you cook, too. Let’s grab a bite out.”
“What about Ranger?”
“He’ll sleep on the road. We’ll have to drive through somewhere and eat in the car unless we want to deal with pissed-off little boy.”
Masey smiles. “That’s fine.”
A few minutes later, we’re sitting in my mom’s SUV, unwrapping fast-food burgers, and sitting under a shady tree in the parking lot.
“I take you to all the best places, don’t I, honey?” I tease.
Her lilting laugh fills my ears again. “As hungry as I am, this will probably taste like the most amazing burger ever.”
I unwrap my own, take a bite—and groan. “You’re right. Damn, that’s good.”
“Totally,” she moans as she takes another bite, then reaches for the SUV’s stereo system. “Is this okay?”
“Sure.”
She turns it on. Some old song I’ve never heard that has a bouncy melody punctuated by a guitar and—is that a flute?—blares through the speakers. We both bust out laughing.
“What the heck is that?”
“I don’t know. Some seventies music. This is Makuahine’s car, and she loves this stuff.”
Then some dude starts singing. And in fifteen words, he fucks with my head. Is it even possible Masey is the woman I’ve always dreamed of? I never thought such a female existed. But I can’t deny that as soon as I saw her face…something changed for me. Something I don’t understand. Something I’m still grappling with.
The musical interlude is laughably old-fashioned, and I’m about to write it off when that guy starts singing truths again. Masey does have this certain way of sending my senses reeling every time she smiles. I’ve never experienced that before. I’ve thought girls were pretty, sure. I’ve been sexually attracted to many. But before Masey, did I ever care about spending time out of bed with them?
One. And it was an unmitigated disaster.
“I have no idea what that was.” Masey is still laughing.
“Me, either. Something that passed for music in the seventies, I guess.” I try to smile, but too many things are barraging my brain.
We finish up our lunch, and when I reach for the stereo dial to turn it to something else, Masey touches my arms. “Don’t. Now I’m curious. My parents are children of the eighties, and I can sing you lots of Bon Jovi—”
“Can you?” I back out of the parking spot, then cast a challenging glance her way. “Are you a cowboy?”
“On a steel horse I ride,” she quips.
I laugh. “Nice.”
After some deejay chatter, the next song starts with a gently lilting guitar. It’s going to be some sappy ballad, I guess. I sip at my soda as the male vocalist sings that he’s going to grab his baby and hold her tight. He goes on to croon that he’s going to grab some afternoon delight. I almost spit out my Coke.
Beside me, Masey’s jaw drops. “Are they singing about…what I think they’re singing about?”
I listen for a moment longer. Rubbing sticks and stones together and sparks igniting that lead to skyrockets in flight pretty much answers the question.
“Oh, my god. They are!” She bursts out laughing.
I have to chuckle, too. The song is such a thinly veiled reference to sex it’s ridiculous. The steel guitar solo in the middle makes