Full Disclosure (Homefront: The Sheridans Book 2) (14 page)

~ KIM ~

Near to hyperventilating, I retreat to
the bedroom Ryan gave me and peek out the window. The sun is low in the sky and
Connor is doing a cannonball into the swimming pool, wearing Hannah’s old life
jacket, snug around his chest. He’s in a state of sheer bliss, and doesn’t even
mind that it has a picture of Barbie on it.

Ryan’s never more than an arm’s length
from him and the sight of it is enough to warm me all the way to my shaky
fingertips.

Connor had been elated when he found out
that he gets to stay the night in a home with a swimming pool.

A heated swimming pool, I correct myself,
the thought flitting through my brain that I am discovering one of the secrets
of the über-wealthy. They get to swim in October in Ohio. Who
does
that?

My only worry, aside from the concern that
the overload of hormones I’m experiencing might throw me into some kind of
toxic shock, is that Connor might get used to this kind of life.

Still, it couldn’t hurt him to have
another kid to play with for the night, I ponder as I watch Hannah teach him
the rules of Marco Polo.

I reach into my bag and pull out my
phone. I want desperately to call Allie, fill my best friend in on the details
of the off-the-charts sex I had last night and how it seems to have
short-circuited my brain. We’ve traded a couple texts today, so she knows the
basics, but seeing as she’s lost in a Caribbean romance right now, I told her
I’d give her the details when she got home.

So I tap on Cass’s name in my contacts
list.

“Hey, hon,” she answers.

“Hi. I’m so glad you picked up. I wasn’t
sure if you’d still be on duty.”

“Just got off shift. One more week of
this bullshit job and I’ll never have to wear taffeta again. I’ve still got to
get my costume off and take it down to cleaning. Can I call you back in about
fifteen?”

“Actually, I really need to talk to you
now. In fifteen minutes, I’m going to be cooking s’mores with Ryan and the
kids.”

“S’mores? Is that how Ryan spends his
evenings, huh?”

“I’m discovering that, yes. Except last
night when he was having sex with me.”

“
What
?!”

“Yep.” I should sound as elated as Cass does
right now. After all, breaking a multi-year span of no sex is definitely cause
for champagne. But I can’t. I’m feeling terrified, sinking deeper into feelings
that my intimacy-starved body just can’t handle.

I tell her about the auction, about how
Ryan bought me the Adirondack chairs and how that nearly had me accosting him
in the school parking lot. Then I get to the part about the stones through my
windows and how I came to end up spending the night with my legs wrapped around
two hundred pounds of sheer man-muscle.

“Holy crap.”

It’s the fourth holy crap I’ve heard from
her so far in this conversation.

“Well, I’m glad you’re staying there,”
she adds. “Does Allie know about the vandalism?”

“Yeah. We’ve texted a few times today. I
told her all that happened.”

“You told her first?”

“You were working today. Besides, I’m
trying to be discreet about this.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want the moms in the
carpool line finding out you’re staying at the boss man’s house.”

“At this point, that’s the least of my
problems.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—” I pause, staring out the
window again. The light in the bedroom is off, so he can’t see me up here
watching him, soaking in the sight of him with my son and his daughter. He
can’t see the appreciative look as my eyes cascade over his muscular body, as
he swoops Connor and Hannah alternately into his arms and tosses them again
into the water.

He can’t see the tears welling up in my
eyes at the smile on my son’s face. It’s the first time I’ve seen Connor with a
man this way, giggling with Ryan as he would if he were his dad. “I’m screwed,
Cass,” I say, my voice cracking.

“Hon, what’s wrong?”

“I think it’s just that I haven’t been
with a guy in so long. And it’s all these hormones or something. Or maybe it’s
the way I feel when I watch Connor with him, and I just long for… I don’t know.
More of this.”

“So just enjoy it.”

“It’s not going to last. And then what?”

“You’ve had sex with the guy one time. You
have no idea at this point whether it will last or not.”

Biting my lip as I recall the many times
and ample positions, I consider I’ve actually had sex with him many more times than
once. But I decide not to call her out on that technicality.

“This is normal. You really like the guy,
so you’re freaking out a bit. Normal.”

“This happens to you?”

“No. Never. I rarely like a guy enough to
cry over him. Or if I’m crying it’s because I can’t seem to find a man who
lasts more than two minutes.”

I snort. I can’t help it.

“From your laugh, I take it that Ryan
lasts a little longer than that.”

“A little,” I lie. A lot.

“Damn. And I let the guy slip through my
fingers. No matter. If someone ended up with him, then I’m glad as hell it’s
you. Just let yourself enjoy it now. Don’t worry about how long it will last or
you’ll be dooming it from the get-go.”

“What if Connor gets attached? I mean,
I’m looking at them right now, Cass. He’s so happy. And all I keep thinking is
that I’d do anything,
anything
to keep my son happy like this. To be
able to offer him this kind of life.”

“The life of luxury is a hell of a
carrot.”

“No, no. Not the luxury part. But having
a dad. A good dad. It’s something I never even considered till today.”

“So just let it play itself out. Do what
comes naturally.”

“I did what came naturally last night,
and wound up spending the evening discovering how 600 thread count sheets feel
on my ass.”

“Sweet. How do they feel?”

“Softer than silk. Not that I’ve spent
any time in silk sheets either, but you get the picture.”

“So enjoy it,” she implores me again.

“But I—I don’t do intimacy very
well with men. I don’t—”

“Talk about your past?” Cass offers up. It’s
like she read my mind and I wonder if I’m that transparent with everyone. “Hell,
hon, you don’t do that even with me. But I still love you. Now wipe those soggy
eyes, hang up the phone and go jump in the deep end. Literally. And tell me
what it feels like to swim in October in Ohio. I mean, seriously.”

“Okay. Thanks, Cass.”

“You’re welcome. And if you have to have
sex with him tonight, make it a quickie, okay? You sound exhausted.”

***

After the kids have thoroughly exhausted
themselves, they dart inside to dry off as Ryan fires up the grill.

I love the smell of steaks and burgers as
they sizzle against the flames. I smell it often enough in my townhouse when
Allie and Logan are grilling. They extended an open invitation to Connor and me
to join them anytime, but I haven’t yet. I don’t want to impose upon their time
together. These are important weeks for them as they settle into the patterns
that I’ve seen other couples fall into—that comfortable routine that I
can’t help envying. Every time the sun is out, Logan’s out there, firing up the
grill and I sit two doors down in the privacy of my own little fenced in
backyard, smelling it, wishing for it, wondering what it would feel like to
have a man grilling a burger for my son and me.

My heart pinches as I enjoy a taste of
that with Ryan knowing it won’t last.

A man like Ryan deserves honesty. Openness.
Things that I can’t offer any man.

The kids emerge fully clothed again, but
with wet hair, insisting that if they stay close to Ryan’s fire pit, they’ll be
warm enough. We give in to their demands, seeing as it’s unseasonably warm for
October.

They wolf down their burgers and I, my
perfectly seasoned filet. Ryan steps inside and emerges with a potato and corn
casserole.

“Did this come from the freezer?” I ask,
wondering if I can ask this miracle chef of his where she gets her recipes.

“If it doesn’t come off the grill, you
can be sure it’s from Mrs. Newman.” He scoops some onto the kids’ plates.

“It’s delicious,” I say, watching Connor
wolf it down. When my son is concentrating on scooping another cheese-laden
bite, I lean toward Ryan. “Is there
broccoli
in here?” I don’t say the
B
word. I mouth it, and he responds with a grin and a nod.

Connor and Hannah monopolize most of the
conversation tonight, both interrupting each other at turns through dinner.

Ryan then disappears inside to retrieve
marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.

There are times when I feel Ryan’s eyes
on me in the firelight, and I don’t dare to meet his gaze because the sight of
him might spark a fire inside me, a fire hotter than the one that’s browning my
marshmallow right now. Then the flame catches the white puff of sugar and
consumes it, turning it black in seconds while the kids laugh at my ineptitude
at the fire pit.

Smiling, Ryan gives a quick shake of his
head as he trades sticks with me. “This time, don’t get it too close to the
flame,” he advises.

It’s advice I should use for my sex life.
Don’t get too close or I’ll get burned.

I somehow make it through the rest of the
evening until I see Connor’s eyelids droop and his head bob.

When I put him to bed, snug in a queen
size bed so much bigger than the twin one he has at home, he kisses me on my
cheek when he hugs me. “This is the best vacation ever,” he whispers.

I laugh at the idea, trying to remind
myself of the reason we’re here. Because the truth is, I’m feeling a bit like
I’m on vacation, too. A vacation from reality. “Just don’t get too used to this
big bed, okay? We still have to go home to your little one tomorrow night.” I
hate being the killjoy, but I can’t help feeling the need to remind him that,
like all great vacations, this one will come to an end.

“I know. I love my bed at home, too.” He
mumbles as I see his eyelids flutter.

“I love you,” I murmur, kissing him on
the forehead. His mouth opens as though he’s about to reply, but no words come.
He’s already dreaming, I can tell, dreaming of swimming in October and s’mores
and fire pits. I try to give my son a good life. A happy, full life. But I know
there are limits with my budget. I hear of the other kids at pre-K shooting off
to Disneyworld for Spring Break while we have to stay behind, pretending we are
satisfied with an occasional afternoon to the local bounce house or pizza at
Chuck E. Cheese. My son never complains.

Yet it somehow hurts me to think that his
idea of a vacation is so limited. I know I should be grateful for all that I
have, but I can’t help wanting more for my boy.

It’s easy to want more, standing here,
staring out Connor’s window to the back deck where Logan left the lights on. Reflections
dance in the pool and the little waterfall is still on, water tumbling over
rocks, and trickling into the main swim area. The fire in the fire pit is out,
but I can still smell the smoke, even through the closed windows, or perhaps
it’s just on my clothes. The place looks like a resort, and I can’t imagine
what it would be like to live here.

I don’t dare imagine.

Probably a half hour or so passes with me
just standing at the window, listening to my son’s steady breathing, gazing out
at the view before I snap out of it. Not all the way back to my reality, but a
step closer.

I take one last look at Connor, and
there’s a slight smile on his face as he sleeps. My heart fills at the sight.

I step out into the hall, deciding to
grab a glass of the wine Ryan offered me earlier and try to settle my brain. Tomorrow
is a workday, and I’ll need to at least keep my eyes open as I sit in my
cubicle for eight hours.

Allie and Logan are coming back from
their trip, so Connor and I will be sleeping in our own beds again.

It sounds crazy, but I want to hug whatever
idiot decided it would be fun to toss a couple stones through my windows last
night.

“Kim?”

I hear Hannah’s little voice call me
quietly as I step past her door.

I peek my head in. “Hi, sweetie.”

“I thought that was you. Your footsteps
are lighter than Dad’s.”

“What are you doing still awake?”

“I can’t sleep. I have a math test
tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“No, I won’t. I never do.”

“What’s the test on?”

“Bar models. I hate bar models.”

My face scrunches up as I sit on the edge
of her bed. “What the heck are bar models?”