Face the Music Read online

  I clear my throat, try to talk, and only manage a nod as my fingers burn with the need to touch her again. I shove the hand in my pocket and quickly turn away. “Yep, just like a stingray.”

  “All right, midget. I’ll see you after school tomorrow.”

  How is she so unaffected? I’m fighting off the urge to grab her and press her to me, rub her against me so I’ll carry her scent, and there’s not even a quiver in her voice?

  “Can you wear this tomorrow?” Elliot asks with huge eyes looking up at Ashleigh as if she’s a life-sized Barbie doll.

  More like a life-sized sex doll.

  Stop it, Ben! You’re a man of God, for crying out loud!

  Ashleigh laughs. “I can’t.” She motions to her top and pants. “This is like my superhero outfit. I’m a nanny in the day, and a crime fighter at night.”

  I wouldn’t think it possible for Elliot’s expression to register any more awe, but her jaw drops open. “Wow. You’re a superhero?”

  Ashleigh frowns. “Technically—”

  “Isn’t everyone in their own way?” Bethany interjects and joins them. “And if we don’t let Ash go, she’ll be leaving those tortured bar patrons neglected.”

  Elliot steps back. “Okay.”

  I chuckle because the kid has no clue what a bar patron is, but I can see she really believes whoever they are, they’re in need of Ashleigh’s assistance. I can picture Ashleigh behind a bar, slinging bottles, mixing drinks, men throwing their cash at her just for the chance to get her attention. Men in that environment, loose with liquor, must also throw lines and propositions. How many times does she get asked on dates? How many does she accept?

  “Ben?”

  I look up to see Bethany standing right in front of me, her eyebrows low.

  “Were you… growling?”

  I cough a little and pray she doesn’t notice. “Something in my throat.”

  Sometime during my little daydream Ashleigh left, which is good. Right? I force my own “come to Jesus” moment by fixing my eyes on a photo of Maggie—this one from her sixth month of pregnancy with Elliot. Her smile is aimed at me, dreams of our future shining brightly in her eyes.

  A wave of shame washes over me. Guilt rakes its nails down my gut, helping to push Ashleigh from my mind.

  I spin my wedding ring on my finger and turn toward the table. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ashleigh

  “What do you mean you’re not coming?” I shout into my phone as I make a U-turn to redirect my car.

  “I have a fever. I shouldn’t be anywhere near Elliot right now.” Bethany tags on a little cough to sell her lie.

  “So that’s it.” I slam my palm against my steering wheel. “One day of training and you just throw me to the wolves?”

  “Wolves?” She laughs. “It’s Elliot. Pick her up, keep her busy until her dad gets home, and please, for the love of God, keep the cursing to a minimum.”

  I groan. “I’m totally going to fuck this up. Something is going to happen, and I’ll accidentally do something to maim Ben’s kid and shit’ll hit the fan big time because then his sexy ass will hate me—”

  “Can you even go an hour without dropping bombs?”

  I bite my lips.

  “You’re biting your lips, aren’t you?”

  I release them with a defeated huff. “I can’t do this.”

  “You can and you will. Do you remember everything I told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, now go forth and prosper.”

  “You’re not sick, you lying asshole.”

  “Byeeee.”

  I toss my phone into the passenger seat and pull up to Elliot’s school a little early. I listen to music while checking the clock obsessively, terrified I’ll be late even though I’m already here which makes no goddamn sense.

  Finally, a minute before the day ends, I climb out and go to the pickup area. I scan all the little bodies, searching for Elliot’s unruly curls. When she comes out, her eyes light on me.

  “Ashleigh!” She runs to me and crashes into my body, arms wrapped around my waist. “Who did you save last night? Did you rescue people from a fire? Did you save a kitten out of a tree?”

  “No, none of that.” I grab her hand and start to walk her to the car. “But I did use a bucket of ice to break up a cat fight. When we get to the car, I’ll show you my outfit for tonight—”

  “Excuse me! Hello? Miss! Excuse me!”

  It takes me a few minutes to realize that voice is calling out to me. I turn around, and sure enough, a tall woman wearing a tri-colored polyester dress and an impressive resting bitch face shoves through kids and waiting parents toward me.

  She grabs Elliot’s other hand and pulls her to her side, forcing her to release me. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

  I don’t miss the way her gaze skates along my body, taking in my cropped white tank and my short shorts.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m Elliot’s nanny.”

  “She’s a superhero, Ms. Keller. She’s going to show me her superhero outfit in her car!”

  Even I can admit that sounds a little suspicious.

  Her expression gets tight. “Is that right? Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to call Elliot’s father to make sure you’re able to pick her up.”

  “I picked her up yesterday.” With Bethany, but still, I was there.

  Ms. Keller’s jaw hardens. “We only allow children to be picked up by the people on the approved list. I need to make sure you’ve been added.”

  “Bullshi—”

  “Ma’am, you’re around children,” she snaps. “Wait here while I contact her father.”

  The fuck I will. Bethany’s first rule in nannying was “Don’t take your eyes off the kid,” and her second rule was “Don’t leave the kid with anyone you don’t know.”

  I follow her and Elliot through the crowd of kids and into the building, then down the hallway to the office. She asks Elliot to sit in a chair.

  I squat beside her. “It’ll be okay. She’s just going to call your dad and get this all straightened out.”

  “Please step away from her, ma’am,” Mrs. Keller says with one hand on the phone and the other pointed directly at me.

  I ignore her. She’ll have to physically remove me from this spot.

  “I don’t understand why I can’t go home with you.”

  “Mr. Langley, please?” she says into the phone, her gaze never wavering from me. “Oh… well, will you please let him know there’s a woman here who is trying to pick Elliot up from school but isn’t on the approved list?” She gives a series of mm-hmms. “Ashleigh Kendrick?”

  I raise my hand, but she hardly spares me a glance.

  “That might be the case, but I’ll need to hear this from her father.” A few more words are exchanged before she hangs up. “You’ll have to sit tight until he’s out of a meeting.”

  “Who’s on the list?” If Bethany is on there, I’ll call her fake-sick ass and get her to pick the kid up for us.

  “I’m not able to release that information to you, ma’am.”

  I roll my eyes. “Jesus, I’ve never been called ma’am so much in my entire life.”

  I drop to sit next to Elliot’s chair, my back to the wall, and wait for a call from Ben. Thirty minutes and a thousand rounds of Miss Suzy had a Steamboat after Ms. Bitch’s call to Ben, the door of the office flies open and in stomps a very angry Ben. This is the second time I’ve seen him this angry—the first was with Colette—and I have to say, the irritation that simmers beneath his skin is a great look on him.

  As if Elliot called to him, he spots her immediately, then his gaze slips to mine in apology. Without asking, he opens the half door and meets us at the wall. I climb to my feet as Elliot hugs her dad.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says. And that’s when it happens. I don’t know if he meant to do it or it was a subconscious move, but he grabs my hand and squeezes as if to reassure m
e. “I forgot to add you to the approved list. Everything okay?”

  God, he’s holding my hand. So big, so warm, and strong. “Yes. Much better now.” I smile.

  He blinks, seeming to realize what he’s done and lets my hand slip from his. Then he spins around as Ms. Keller comes out of her office. Turns out the cranky bitch is actually the principal.

  “Mr. Langley, thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “I’d like to add Ashleigh to Elliot’s list of approved people who’re able to pick her up, please.”

  She pulls out a form. “You’ll need to fill this out.”

  He scribbles the information before signing it and tossing it aside. “Let’s go.”

  “We’ll need to see her ID,” Ms. Keller says, and her eyes do another pass from the top of my head to my toes.

  His glare tightens on the woman. “Right now?”

  She nods. “We’ll need a copy. For our records.”

  “I’ve never heard of that policy before—”

  “It’s all right, Ben.” I slip my ID from my purse and slap it on the table in front of her.

  She takes it to the back of the office to make a copy.

  I rock into Ben’s side and he snaps out of his scowl. “It’s for Elliot’s safety.”

  He blinks down at me, his expression still cold but warming slowly. “Strange that Colette and Bethany weren’t expected to do the same.” He doesn’t say what we’re both thinking. This woman doesn’t like me.

  When she returns my ID, she avoids looking me in the eye. Whatever, I’m used to women throwing shade.

  “Let’s go.” Ben holds out a protective hand, motioning for us to walk ahead of him, and the soft female inside me swoons at his alpha male behavior. When he opens the door and holds it, I practically purr.

  I look over my shoulder at the scowling principal. Later, bitch.

  See? I can lock down my mouth when it’s important.

  “I feel terrible I didn’t think ahead about adding you to the list.”

  “I’m sorry you had to be called out of work to deal with it.”

  He squints toward his car, his mind working something over that doesn’t reach his mouth. He noticed the way Elliot’s principal looked at me and seems offended on my behalf. My heart warms from his concern.

  He runs a hand through his hair and his biceps test the seams of his collared shirt. “Ms. Keller isn’t usually so unpleasant.”

  “Ben, it’s cool.” I rock my hip into his.

  He responds to my brief touch by releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. “I need to get back to the church.”

  “We’ll see you at home tonight.” I take Elliot’s hand, and we head toward my car, my face burning red at how personal and intimate that sounded. See you at your home? How should I have said that?

  “Bye, Dad!”

  I give a final backward glance and see Pastor Ben’s eyes on my ass.

  Consider the afternoon’s hiccup totally worth it.

  Ben

  When I walk into the house this time, there’s no smell of food, no sounds of laughter coming from the open windows. I managed to sneak out of my office a little early, eager to get home and make sure Ashleigh really is okay after the incident at Elliot’s school today.

  First Kathy and now an elementary school principal.

  I wonder how often Ashleigh is subjected to others’ judgment and expectations? Clearly not enough to really bother her or she’d not be as brazen and confident as she is.

  “I’m home!” I say when I walk inside to an empty living room. When I don’t get an immediate response, my pulse picks up and I tell myself not to freak out. I head back to Elliot’s room. “Hello?”

  Not there. Okay, now my pulse is really racing. I pull out my phone to call Ashleigh just as I pass the sliding glass door to the backyard. I freeze and stick my phone back in my pocket. A slow smile spreads my lips.

  What are they doing?

  Ashleigh has a sheet from Elliot’s bed tucked into the back of her shorts while she runs around the backyard with Elliot chasing her. I can’t figure out what they’re doing until Elliot throws herself onto the sheet, grabbing it as if it’s a life preserver in shark-infested waters, and pulls the sheet from Ashleigh’s waistline. The action throws both girls into a fit of giggles. Elliot climbs to her feet, stuffs a corner of the sheet into the back of her shorts, and runs as fast as she can around the yard, now with Ashleigh on her heels. I slide open the door.

  Elliot sees me first. Her face is red with exhaustion, but her smile is bigger than I’ve ever seen it. “Dad!”

  The second the word is out of her mouth, Ashleigh’s eyes come to mine, her face a pretty shade of pink and a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She stops running, braces her hands on her knees as if she’s finished a marathon, and breathes.

  I step out onto the porch. “What exactly am I interrupting here?”

  “It’s called Step on the Pony Tail!” Elliot wiggles her butt. “I’m the pony and Ashleigh has to try to step on my tail!”

  My eyes are drawn to Ashleigh as she stands to her full height and lifts her arms above her head, making her half shirt even shorter, to reconfigure the mass of hair piled on her head. “You win, midget.”

  She heads toward me, still breathing hard, lips parted. I have to avoid looking at her for fear of the lurid fantasies that accompany these types of visuals.

  “Please tell me you’re home early.” She steps up onto the porch while Elliot runs around the yard at a gallop. “Either that or I totally lost track of time.”

  Her flowery scent is magnified by the heat of her skin and sweat. Aren’t people supposed to smell worse when they sweat? Whatever body wash or lotion Ashleigh uses seems to be activated by activity. I wonder what other activities would intensify that delicious scent—no. Stop that shit right now.

  I clear my throat. “I’m…” My voice cracks. I give the throat-clear another go. “I’m early.”

  “Cool.” She’s so close that when she looks at me, I’m forced to look down at her. Her blue eyes are practically shining in the late afternoon sun. “How was your day?”

  “Pretty good.” Better now. “Yours?”

  She wipes dry grass from her shirt. “We stayed busy.” She reaches past me to snag her phone off the patio table, and I lean in to catch the sweet scent of her flushed skin. “I should go get ready for work.” She plucks at the neck of her tank top, giving me a generous peek of soft, tan cleavage. “Would it be all right if I hopped in your shower?”

  Yes. Please.

  “Sure,” I say as casually and unaffected as possible. “Make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks, Ben.” She squeezes my bicep as she passes me into the house.

  It isn’t until I hear the sliding glass door close behind me that I brace my weight on the railing, drop my head, and breathe through the wave of… of… what the hell is this feeling?

  My skin feels too tight, my insides too warm, and there’s an obnoxious weight between my legs that isn’t really annoying other than the fact that I can’t act on it.

  The name for what I’m feeling hits me like a slug to the balls.

  Lust.

  Unfiltered, unwanted, unsatisfied lust.

  Oh, and that slug to the balls also has a name.

  I haven’t had blue balls, since… since…

  Maggie.

  Note to self—most effective form of alleviating unwanted lust is a fresh wave of shame and guilt.

  “Dad, can Ashleigh spend the night?”

  My lids dart open and Elliot is looking at me with pleading eyes.

  “Please?”

  “Ashleigh is a grown-up, honey. She doesn’t have sleepovers.”

  Her eyebrows pinch together, and she frowns. “She said she does do sleepovers, but only with people she really likes.”

  I feel my brows make a slow climb up my forehead. “Is that what she said?”

  “Yes.” My little girl ages ten years by pr
opping her hands on her hips. “So can she?”

  With a quick peek behind me to make sure the door is still closed, I lean forward. “Did she tell you when her last sleepover was?”

  “No, but she says she has them all the time with all different people. She must have a lot of friends.”

  I’m sure she does.

  And why the hell does that make me want to claw off my skin?

  “Well, there are rules about sleepovers. Adults can have them with adults, kids can have them with kids—”

  “You never have them.”

  I can’t argue with that. “I don’t like sharing my bed with anyone but you or your mom.” I hold out my hand. “Now come inside. Let’s get you cleaned up and get dinner started.”

  She stomps up the steps, dragging her dirty bedsheet behind her. “It’s not fair.”

  On that we agree. Life is certainly not fair.

  After giving Elliot instructions to use the bathroom in my room to wash her hands, I take the sheet to the washer and dryer in the hallway—and regret not waiting to do so. The shower in the hall bathroom is on and I can hear water coming off Ashleigh’s body. Is she washing her hair? My blood simmers, making my balls heavy and my dick throb.

  So I start the wash quicker than any load of wash has ever been started in the history of human existence and jog to the kitchen to stick my face in the freezer.

  I have never had so little self-control. Not even when I met Maggie.

  We didn’t have sex before we were married, and whenever our make-out sessions got too heavy, I had no problem backing off. What is it about Ashleigh that makes me feel as though I have zero control over my own body? If I ever had the privilege of putting my hands on her, I’d be helpless to stop. She would have to be the one to pull back, and of course I would honor her wishes, but I’d hate—what the hell am I thinking?

  “Hot?”

  I jump at the sound of Ashleigh’s voice behind me. Having been caught with my face in the freezer, I slowly step back and close it. “A little, yeah.”

  Don’t look at her, do not look—damn. I looked.

  She’s wearing a black dress so tight it looks like part of her skin. The top is cut low, the bottom cut high, and her thigh-high boots draw attention to the long expanse of her leg. But with all that, those aren’t even the sexiest things about the way she looks right now. I take the opportunity to study her as she digs through her bag with a towel wrapped around her head and not a bit of makeup on.