Filthy Beautiful Lust(4)

"Do you want something to drink?" Kylie does some type of sign-language  to him as she speaks and a moment later, he repeats the move back to  her. She hands him a blue plastic sippy cup from inside her bag. He  brings it to his mouth and tilts his head so far back that he falls into  the grass and just lays there, drinking like he's been travelling  through the desert and deprived of liquid. I crack a smile. While he  lies there quietly, I take a moment to look at Kylie. To really look at  her.

The sun brings out her hair's reddish undertone. Her skin looks  incredibly soft and her mouth is full and has a natural pout that women  spend thousands to achieve via plastic surgery.

Her bare shoulders are delicate and tanned. Sticky fingers reach out for  her, and she doesn't hesitate, lifting him into her arms and letting  him plaster her cheeks with wet kisses. I wouldn't know what that felt  like  –  to have a little body clinging to me and so happy just to be near  me. Watching her interact with her baby, it's hard to look away.

Max tosses down his juice cup and wanders from her lap to where I'm  sitting. "Hi buddy," I say, meeting his intense stare. He's silently  watching me, but I can see the wheels turning in his little head. He's  trying to piece together who I am and what I'm doing. I like your mom,  little dude, so be cool. Holding out my hand, I ask him if he can give  me five and he does, smacking his sticky palm against mine with a  squeal. Then he lunges toward me and begins climbing me like a tree.

"Max, don't do that … " Kylie reaches for him, but I wave her off.

"He's fine. Unless you're not okay with this?"

She opens, then closes her mouth, thinking it over. "No, it's fine. He  doesn't often play with men, so I think this might be good for him. I'm  just happy he's not shy. I've been waiting for that stage to hit."

I look down into giant bright blue eyes. "You're not afraid of me, are you buddy?"

He squeals and slaps a chubby palm against my face. Okay then, that settles that.

I spend the next fifteen minutes flying him like an airplane around the  yard, hunting for frogs in the garden and letting him dip his fingers  into the pool while I hold onto him.

Kylie watches everything with a neutral expression that makes me wish I  knew what she was thinking. And even though she mingles a bit and greets  the other guests, her eyes are never far from us.

Once Max tires of me, he reaches for her. "Mumma," he says in a little gravelly voice.

I place him in her arms, my hands sliding against her bare shoulder as  we make the exchange. Her skin is warm and petal soft and her eyes dart  up to mine. "Thank you."

"Anytime," I say, sticking my hands into my pockets. Without that wiggly  little body in my arms, they feel a bit useless just dangling there at  my sides.

The photographer Colton and Sophie hired to capture the memories of  their engagement party approaches. "Will you three get together for a  picture?"

Kylie stiffens, and I see her mouth open like she's about to refuse the photographer.

"It's just a photo," I remind her. She's desperate to refuse anything  that could be construed as intimate between us. "Please," I add.

Kylie settles Max on her hip so they're both facing the camera and I  toss my arm around her shoulder, hugging them both, and smile brightly  at the photographer.                       
       
           



       

She takes a few shots and then lowers her camera. "What an adorable baby you two have."

"Oh, he's not … " I pause, mentally smacking myself. I'd been about to  deny him as mine –  and he's not – but I suddenly realize that I wouldn't  mind people thinking he was. I wouldn't mind someone assuming that this  beautiful woman and her baby belong to me.

Kylie's eyes flash to mine, wondering why I haven't corrected the woman.

I shrug, lifting an eyebrow to tell her it's okay. Her brow crinkles and  she chews on her lower lip, but doesn't say anything, instead turning  her attention back to Max.

In the distance I see the caterers setting out platters of food at the  long banquet table on the patio. "Shall we get something to eat?"

"Sure," she says, then makes the sign for eat to Max, which he eagerly imitates.





Chapter Four


Kylie





Pace and I are seated at one of the banquet tables dressed in white  linens with Max between us. I'm nervous he's going to spill something or  ruin the tablecloth with his enthusiastic method of eating, but Pace  only smiles adoringly at him. It makes me feel unsure and on edge.

I share a plate of food with Max, and he nibbles on grilled salmon,  potatoes and cucumber salad like a champ. I'm thankful I don't have a  picky eater. Otherwise, it'd be Cheerios for dinner, because that was  all I packed. Of course I also forgot to put on his bib, which meant  half of the food was ending up on his shirt. I'll be changing him into  his jammies after this.

Pace looks on, clearly impressed by Max's ability to shovel fistfuls of food into this mouth. "Does he have any teeth in there?"

"He has four."

"How old is he?" he asks next.

I don't know what's up with his sudden interest in my child, or maybe  it's just that he's trying to be polite and make small talk since he's  stuck sitting next to the lady with the baby. "He turned one last  month."

"So it's just you and him?" The depth of Pace's expression surprises me.  There's usually a crooked grin on his lips, a dimple peeking from one  cheek, and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Now there's only a set  mouth, strong jawline and deep blue eyes watching me, waiting for my  response.

I swallow a lump in my throat. I don't need anyone. At least that's what  I tell myself. But Max …  I feel bad for my son. I hate to think about  when he's older having to explain to him that his own father wanted  nothing to do with him. "It's just us," I say, my voice going tight. I  take a sip of water and exhale deeply. "Where's your girlfriend  tonight?"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"What about the blonde from the other weekend?"

"She was a one-time thing."

"Classy." I raise an eyebrow at him. He's blunt, but for some reason I  like his direct style of communication and the way his eyes never stray  from mine. He doesn't make excuses, doesn't try to cover up who he is.  Or what that night had been  –  it was a one-time hookup. God, I don't  even remember what that'd be like.

I might be a mom now, but my body still has needs, yearnings … that I  promptly ignore. Yes, sir, I shut those feelings down with a vice clamp.  They are dangerous and make me want things that just aren't possible  for me right now.

"I still want to take you to dinner," he says, reading my faraway thoughts.

"We're having dinner," I point out and feed another bite to Max from the  end of my fork, hoping to actually get some of the food in his mouth  this time.

Pace stares straight ahead, looking out at the ocean, and for the first  time, I begin to wonder what he's thinking, what he sees when he looks  at me. He's a handsome, eligible bachelor. Surely his prospects are  better than a single mom so jaded it'd take a miracle for me to trust  again. Though I have to admit, there is something in me that loved  seeing him with Max. His big hands that curled all the way around Max's  belly and ribcage, the gentle way he flew him through the air while Max  giggled … Max deserves more moments like that. The rational side of my  brain knows that, but I won't have him feel the loss and rejection when  Pace decides a blond with inflatable breasts is more fun than a  twenty-nine year old single mom and her son. And he was guaranteed to.

Men like him don't change overnight. I need to keep my feet firmly on  the ground and my head out of the clouds, no matter how freaking cute he  is.

After dinner, I change Max into his pajamas, we brush all four of his  teeth and I read him the two books I'd packed. I know he's tired because  he's tugging on his ears through the second book. It's his tell. A  clear signal that he's ready to be laid down and won't get up again  until morning. And it's a good thing too, because after twelve hours of  playing and lifting him and carrying him my back is aching and I just  want to sit down and relax for a minute or two before we have to drive  home.                       
       
           



       

I spot Sophie and Colton by the outdoor fireplace.

"Hey guys." I lean in and give each of them a hug. "Great party. Thank  you for having us." I feel bad that I haven't spent any time with the  hosts yet, but chasing a one-year-old around keeps you busy.