Nights With Parker (25 page)

After coming back to Savannah and convincing Riley to give me another chance, I wasted no time in putting a ring on her finger. Though she wanted to wait a year to plan a proper wedding, I ultimately got my way, and we were married within six months. It was a small private ceremony here in Savannah with only our mothers and my brother in attendance.

I shut down my laptop, grab my car keys from the top drawer of my desk, and glance over to a few of the pictures that sit on top. One is the original photo of Riley that her mother saw on my desk back when we had just started dating. The second is of our wedding, a picture of Riley and me kissing beneath an archway of old moss trees. I shut off the lights in my office and head out, riding the elevator down to the lobby and making my way out to the street. I walk a few doors down to Riley’s bakery, and I’m greeted with squealing when I walk inside. I nod a hello to one of the girls who’s working behind the cash register and take a look around, knowing exactly who I’m searching for.

“Dada.” I hear Mason call, and I immediately smile. I spy him sitting in a highchair behind the counter and waste no time heading in his direction. He kicks his legs in excitement when I pick him up but settles once he’s in my arms.

“How’s my man?” I ask him, my mouth on his soft wavy brown hair. He grabs my arms and rests his head on my chest. This doesn’t get old. Having my son in my arms, feeling his love, never gets old.

“He didn’t take a long enough nap.” Riley comes up behind me, wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her forehead on my back. “I forgot to turn the ringer off in my office, and the phone woke him up.”

“Then let’s get him home,” I tell her. She lets go of me, and I turn to face her. This never gets old either. Coming to pick up my wife every day after she’s spent hours in this bakery with our son. The happy look on her face when she greets me does me in every. Single. Time. I lean in, placing a quick kiss on her mouth, and I rest my hand on her growing belly.

“You feeling okay today?” I question because not a day goes by that I don’t worry about her health and the fact that she’s working throughout this pregnancy just as she did with Mason.

She got pregnant with our son almost immediately after we got back together three years ago. Not exactly a planned pregnancy but we were happy to be with each other again and were careless … a lot. The pregnancy is what prompted us to get married sooner than what Riley would have liked, but no way was my son going to be born out of wedlock. In the end, I don’t think either of us would have changed a damn thing.

“I’m fine,” she says with a grin. She grabs onto my hand and pulls me into the back where her office is located. “I have to get Mason’s things.”

She begins to pack, all of the toys, blankets, and bottles that are thrown all over her office. Mason’s small crib is set up in the far corner of her office, and I start to think that we may need to expand it to accommodate another baby. Riley will want the baby with her; she refused to put Mason in daycare from the start, and I know she’ll be the same way with this child.

“What’s this?” I question, picking up a paper from her desk with a two-tiered cake on it. Mason shifts in my arms, and I can’t tell because I can’t see his face, but I think he may have fallen asleep in my arms.

“Do you like it? It’s just a design I’m working on for Mason’s birthday cake.”

“I love it,” I tell her, and I do. She’s become an amazing baker. So good that people come from all over Georgia to get her to design cakes for their weddings and special events. So good in fact that she’s opening up a second location in a few months.

“Your mother wants us over for dinner tomorrow. Her new kitchen is done, and she wants us to see it.” Riley’s mom was able to sell the small house they had been living in and buy something bigger last year. Conveniently, it’s not very far from the home that Riley and I bought and finished renovations on right before Mason was born.

“How is it that you know more about my mother than I do?”

“She manages my hotel, and her office is down the hall from mine, so I’m pretty sure I see her more than I see you.”

“Whatever,” she murmurs under her breath, and I control the urge to laugh.

I thought I might miss New York when I moved to Savannah. I even held onto my apartment thinking that maybe I’d like to go back for visits from time to time. Catch a show and do some shopping with Riley. But I meant it when I told her that home is wherever she is. It was true, and I found that I didn’t need to go running back to the city every chance I got. I sold my place to my brother last year after his divorce was finalized. I was happy for him when he finally walked away from a woman who wanted nothing but his money and gave him nothing in return.

“Well, your mother is coming up from Florida next month to come house hunting,” she says, in a sassy tone.

“And how do you know this?” I ask her. I knew my mother was considering moving from Florida to Savannah to be closer to her grandkids, but I didn’t know that was a done deal. I’m sure my wife convinced her.

“She likes me better than you.” She smirks. “Plus, I told her she could babysit the kids a few times a week when the bakery is crazy.”

“Blackmail.” I accuse with a smirk, and Riley gives me an immediate eye roll.

“You’re one to talk.”

“That’s water under the bridge, baby,” I say as I snatch her hand and pull her to me. “I made an honest woman of you.”

“I’m going to do you a favor and strike that last comment from the record.” She runs her thumb gently across my lower lip. There’s a sudden shift in the mood, and she looks at me not with humor but with recognition.

“You gave me everything,” she whispers, and I can see her eyes start to get glassy.

“Why are you getting emotional on me? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” She smiles and blames it on her hormones.

“You know I love you, right?” I question because our lives get out of control often, and it’s sometimes difficult to find the time to tell each other how we feel.

“You gave me everything. I know you love me. I love you back.”

It’s still hard for me to hear her credit me with giving her this life when in the beginning I took so much from her. I try not to think about it often, but the way I coerced her into our relationship creeps into my head from time to time. She’s good at making me feel better, though, about putting things into perspective and showing me just how far we’ve come from all of that.

“I hope this baby looks like you too.” She brushes her lips against mine and then kisses the top of Mason’s head.

“I’m sure he’ll be adorable no matter who he looks like.”

“Yeah.” She agrees.

“Then we can try for a girl,” I throw in, trying to catch her in a weak moment. She’s told me several times that two children are all she wants.

“No.”

“I’ll buy you another bakery.”

“No,” she says again, a little firmer this time.

“I’ll take you to Paris.”

“Would you stop trying to blackmail me?”

“Never,” I say giving her ass a gentle slap.

“Watch it, Parker!” She points at me and laughs. She grabs Mason’s diaper bag, but I take it from her and toss it over my shoulder. Riley grabs her keys and shuts off the lights to her office. We walk to the front of the bakery and say goodbye to the girls who normally close up the shop for her. Riley unlocks the car, which is parked out back in the small lot behind her bakery, and she opens the back door. I place Mason down in his car seat and make sure that he’s strapped in, while Riley gets in the passenger side. I walk around to the driver’s side, get in, and turn the car on. Riley grabs hold of my hand.

“Maybe we can try for a girl?” she says with a coy smile.

“Yeah?” I arch my brow, questioning her sudden change of heart.

“Yeah.” She nods, pulling her seat belt on and clicking it in place. “After you take me to Paris.”

I shake my head and chuckle. “Done.”

“And Saint Tropez,” she throws in.

“Who’s blackmailing who now?” I question, pulling out of the parking lot with a smile on my face and heading home.

“Get over it, it’s what we do,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh. We might not make sense to some people. We might seem like an unlikely pair, but it works for us. We fight hard but love even harder. We’ll do anything for each other, even resorting to bribery if the situation calls for it. It’s crazy at times, amazing every day, but it’s everything, it’s us.

Alice Tribue is a bestselling author of contemporary romance novels.  She is currently living in New Jersey with her two children and spends as much of her free time as she can by the beach. She enjoys reading, writing, and an unhealthy addiction to coffee.

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Chapter One

Max

“I’m coming,” I yell, wrapping a thin, worn-out towel around my waist. Like many things in my apartment, it’s seen better days. Not because I can’t afford better stuff, but because I’m not used to living with anything more than the bare necessities. I only just finally sprung for updated furniture for this place a couple of months ago, and after sleeping on a brand new mattress, I could’ve fucking kicked myself for not investing in a new bed sooner. The banging on my door comes again, and I know exactly who’s waiting on the other side. It’s always the same person. Two, sometimes three, times a week, she comes, bangs on my door, and then lets me bang her. It’s been our thing for almost two years now. She comes by. We hook up. She goes home. There’s no commitment, no promises. It’s just me, the beautiful girl who works the cash register at the coffee shop I frequent, and our mutually beneficial arrangement. A fuck buddy kind of scenario that gives us both exactly what we need without any of the relationship drama.

“Keri! Jesus, what the hell? I said I was coming,” I yell as I throw the door open.

“You have a pervy old neighbor. He was staring at me and creeped me the hell out,” she explains, pushing her way past me and tossing her purse on the couch. Her blond curls bounce as she walks into the kitchen and starts rifling through my refrigerator. I roll my eyes and close the front door, heading her way.

“Don’t you normally work on Thursday night?”

Her head pops up from behind the refrigerator. “You memorized my schedule? I’m honored, babe.” She grins. “Jessica asked me to switch a shift with her because she has a wedding to go to this weekend,” she says, shutting the refrigerator door and unscrewing the top off a bottle of water. She focuses her pretty green eyes on me, taking me in from head to toe. Her lips tip up in another grin, clearly enjoying the view, and I finally remember that I’m standing here mostly naked. She looks up at me, and her eyes meet mine. Her makeup is perfect; her lips glossed making them seriously tempting. Her violet top is tight. It fits her like a glove, drawing my eyes to her middle and the swell of her tits. The jean skirt is even tighter than the fucking shirt, which is hard to believe, and it’s short, so short that it’s damn near indecent. And last, her black wedge sandals give her petite frame just enough height to make her legs look like they’d go on forever. The outfit screams trashy, but to me, it’s perfect. To me, it’s just right, because it reminds me of exactly what hides underneath the flimsy clothes and exactly what she’s going to let me do to her tonight. The thought of it makes my cock take notice.

“Come here,” I call, giving her the command. She, however, doesn’t move; she stands rooted to her spot, water in hand, eyes still on me, but no longer filled with the desire that was in them a minute ago. “Keri.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t come here for that.”

“Then why are you here?” I ask impatiently.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

Fuck. I was waiting for this. Waiting for the day she’d decide she was no longer okay with our no-strings-attached arrangement. Waiting for the day she’d come here and tell me that she wanted more from me, that her feelings for me had grown. I always knew it would happen. I’m actually surprised she lasted this long without bringing this shit up. She wants to talk, so we’ll talk, and then I’ll be done with her. I’ll let her down easy; explain to her how it is and why we can no longer do this. It’ll fuck with my morning coffee run, but I’ll just need to deal. I have to end this now before she gets even more invested, before the begging starts and the emotional manipulation, but she’s here now, right now … And I have to fuck the shit out of her one last time before I tell her that this is done. I have to. It’ll give me a little something to remember her by and tide me over until I find my next suitable fuck buddy.

“You want to talk? We’ll talk, but first, you come here,” I command, pointing at the ground in front of me. She knows I’m not fucking around; she hears it in my tone, and I can see the worry from moments ago being replaced with lust. She puts her water bottle down on the counter then takes three hesitant steps toward me. I tug on the towel and it loosens, her gaze following as it falls to the ground.