Not Your Hero (16 page)

He parks in the driveway behind his truck. I pull my hand from his and open the door for Ben. We all walk up the steps, and I expect him to go to his place. Part of me wants to talk about what he said to Matt, and the other just wants him to go, since I don’t understand what I did to piss him off. He puts a hand on my lower back and gives me a little push toward my door. After we get inside, Ben starts to run off to his room, but I stop him.

“What do you say to Sam for the ice cream?”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Anytime.” And he smiles at Ben, apparently back to normal now.

“Can I go play now?”

“Yes.”

Ben runs upstairs and as soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn and point my finger at Sam, ready to lay into him for being an ass. But he grabs my hand and pulls me toward him then wraps his arms around me and pushes my head into his neck.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t stand the thought of you working at that place. It pisses me off thinking those assholes get to see you naked.” An apologetic whisper mixes in with the angry tone his voice carries.

My heart swells at his admission, and I mumble, “I’m not naked.”

“No, but I still don’t like it.” He’s quiet now, slowly rubbing his hands up and down my back.

“I don’t either, but I don’t really have a choice.”

He holds me for a couple more minutes, and I pull back, suddenly realizing I never talked to him about Matt.

“What happened with Matt?”

“Nothing. He tried to act all butt hurt that you were fighting him, said you were blackmailing him.”

My mind immediately starts playing scenarios, but a gentle hand to my face pulls me out.

“He’s done, walked away defeated, babe. Looks like he got the papers before he talked to Denton ‘cause he had no clue my dad found out about his wife’s affair.”

“Oh, he just walked away? Didn’t even ask about his son?” My heart aches for my little boy.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “But he doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Ben. He’s a piece of shit, and I told him that I better never see him around Ben ever-”

I cut him off. “You what?” I snap.

He jerks his head back. “I told him to never contact you or Ben again.”

“Who are you to make that decision?” I yell. What if Matt really wanted to get to know his son? I mean, I don’t want to give up any custody, but I wouldn’t be opposed Ben meeting his dad. Every kid deserves to know who their parents are. I’m sure Sam didn’t give a kind request; I bet he threatened him.

“You’re fucking with me, right?” he asks, incredulously.

“Look,” I squeeze the bridge of my nose, “I appreciate everything you’ve done, you have no idea how much. What you’ve sacrificed for me . . . for us. But you can’t do that.”

He steps away and crosses his arms. Arms that make me feel safe, like nothing can touch me when they’re around me. “Can’t do what? Stick up for you? Keep that motherfucker out of your lives? ‘Cause where I’m standing, you can use all the fucking help you can get.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need the help, woman. Jesus.” He scrubs his hands down his face, steps closer to me, and dips his head to look in my eyes. “He doesn’t want Ben.” His voice lowers. “It was only a publicity thing for his new family. It would make him look good. He told me he doesn’t want him, babe.”

I feel like a fool for not recognizing the kind of person Matt really is. And there’s still a stupid part of me that remembers the kind and generous man he used to be. “I know that, but what if in the future . . .”

“No. Sorry. He’s a selfish prick.”

I don’t know why I’m suddenly sad at the thought of Matt completely giving up. I don’t want him in our lives, but I always wanted him to want to. And now, that’s done, and I don’t know how I feel about it. “So, it’s over. Just like that, he’s never going to even want to meet his son.”

“He looked right at him, Courtney. In the parking lot. Remember?”

“Yeah.” I lean back against the wall, suddenly dizzy.

“He looked at him, but he didn’t
see
him. His own son. He didn’t even care that he was standing right there.”

I nod my recognition and he places a lingering kiss on my forehead before he walks to the door.

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

The click of the lock snaps me out of my daze, and I slowly walk to the kitchen and sit on a chair. I don’t want Matt in our lives. But for Ben, I want him to have a dad, a man who looks out for him and cares for him . . . like Sam. Is he ready for that kind of commitment when he can’t even commit to me? To be a dad. He says he wants another chance, and so far, he’s proven immeasurably helpful. He is trying.

But do I want a man in my life that is going to make major decisions like that for me? For Ben? Without consulting me first?

“Ugh.” I groan and bang my head on the table.

Then it hits me.
Idiot.
God, I’m so stupid. Of course, I want that. How long have I wanted someone to share my life and help make decisions? To not be the only one with answers? Now I have an amazing guy who is willing to try, and I act like a fucking lunatic.

I look at the clock on the microwave but realize I don’t have enough time to talk to Sam before I need to go to work. I jog upstairs and check on Ben, and tell him I’m taking a quick shower. I’d love to stand under the hot spray forever, but I throw my hair up and quickly lather and shave in the appropriate places.

Once out, I pop my head into Ben’s room and find him in the same position he was in ten minutes ago.

Just as I’m tucking some clean clothes in my bag, the phone rings, and I run downstairs to answer it, cursing myself that I didn’t bring my cell upstairs.

“Hello?” I answer without looking to see who called.

“Court.” Mona’s voice is scruffy and she’s sniffling.

“Mona, you sound like crap. You okay?”

“Just woke up. I’m sick.”

“Aww, honey.”

“I . . .” she coughs and I pull the phone away from my ear, like germs can magically pass through. “Can’t watch Ben. So sorry.”

Shit.

I didn’t even think about that right away. “It’s okay. Just get better.”

“‘Kay.”

I click end then toss my phone on the counter with excessive force, and wince when it falls off onto the floor. When I bend down and pick it up, I give in and sit on the cold tile, and contemplate what to do. It’s too late to call another babysitter; I need to go in ten minutes. I guess I’ll have to call in. And I really need the money, too.

Sam.

Maybe he could watch him. I quickly run to his front door and knock but take a step back when he greets me. Only wearing shorts and a pair of tennis shoes, his body glistens with sweat. I itch to run my fingers around the hard indentations in his stomach.

He clears his throat, and when I finally look at his face, he widens his eyes, silently asking me why I’m here.

“Yeah, umm.” It’s my turn to clear my throat, now. “Mona is sick and she was supposed to watch Ben for me. It’s too late for me to call another babysitter since I have to leave in ten minutes. I could always just call in sick, but I really need the money. And you’re right here, but if you’re too busy-”

He cuts me off by clamping his entire hand over my mouth. His lips curl up in a smile, and he asks, “Do you need me to watch Ben so you can go to work?”

I nod my head slowly and fight the urge to suck his finger into my mouth.
God, what does he do to me?

“Can I be over in five minutes? I need to take a quick shower.”

I whimper, picturing him naked and soapy but manage to nod again.

“‘Kay. I’ll be right there.”

He removes his hand and walks away, leaving me staring at his door, unable to move from the lust bubble he’s managed to throw me into.

“Go home, Court,” he yells from inside. I jump then, like a good little girl in lust, I go home.

* * *

The stress of dealing with this custody thing has me one pissed off tassel-wearing cocktail waitress. I realize I’m not out of the woods completely, but Sam’s confidence makes me breathe a sigh of relief and feel as if we’ll be okay. Then there’s Sam himself, the hot jerk. I shouldn’t even be thinking about him right now, not after what I just dealt with. But I can’t help myself. As much as I want to jump his bones, I need to make sure he doesn’t want me back because of guilt, or because he has feelings that sprang up due to the custody issue.

So, on my way to work, I come up with a plan. Pretty much the same plan as before. We need to date and get to know each other better. But unlike last time, he needs to be there all the way. He says that’s what he wants, but I can’t give into this with him until I know for certain.

I walk into X with a smile on my face, determined to get through the night so I can go home and talk to Sam. God, just knowing he’s at my house, and that I get to see him makes me blush. The redness on my cheeks quickly turns to an angry flush when my shift becomes drunk-guys-with-grabby-hands night. It’s a Monday; usually Mondays are quiet.

And if this guy doesn’t get his hand off my thigh, I swear I will take the four-inch heel on my foot and shove it up his ass.

I set his drink down and glare at him. “Sir, I will not tell you again, you cannot touch the waitresses.” With a firm grip on his wrist, I yank his hand away.

“That so?”

He stands with a speed I didn’t think possible for a drunk guy and cups me between my legs.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” I yell and push him, but his other hand grips my bottom and pins me to him.

“I’ll touch whatever the hell I want, bitch.” His spit lands on my cheek, and I struggle to get him off me, pushing, scratching.

“The fuck is your problem, man?” One of the security guards rips him off me, and I stumble back, right into Brandy.

“Oh, my God. Are you okay?” she asks, wiping my disheveled hair off my face.

Am I okay? No. I hate this. I’m not hurt, but I am pissed.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I pull my skirt down as far as it will allow and look around. Everyone has stopped what they were doing and all eyes are on me. Out of embarrassment, I run to the locker room and lean on the sink.

The door creaks, and Brandy hops on the counter next to me, swinging her long fishnet covered legs.

“You sure you’re all right?”

I take a deep breath and cup the water to take a small drink. After I dab my face with a paper towel, I lean on the sink. “Yes. I’m just so sick of it. It’s bad enough that we are gawked at, and I’m fine with it . . . I mean, obviously that’s what we signed up for.” She nods in agreement. “But I don’t get these grabby dudes. God, it’s so frustrating.”

“I know. But this is only temporary, right? We’ll be outta here before you know it.” She hops down, gives me a side hug, and walks out.

“Not soon enough,” I say to the empty locker room.

I decline to press charges when the manager asks. I don’t want my name on a public record with that creep so they toss him out. I robotically finish my shift and end up getting lots of tips. I guess some of the guys felt sorry for me. Whatever, I’ll take it.

Once I get home, I sneak in as quiet as I can. The lights are all off downstairs except for the ones under the kitchen cabinets and the lamp on the end table. Sam must be in my bed. I take off my shoes and tiptoe upstairs.

When I open the door to Ben’s room, whatever anger I was carrying is gone. Wiped clean. Sam’s large body is squished against the wall, and his arm is draped across Ben. Ben is sleeping on his stomach with his right arm and leg hanging off his bed. There’s a book haphazardly laying on the floor, no doubt fallen from Sam’s hand. I grab my phone and take a picture then backtrack out of the room, quietly closing the door.

I head to the bathroom because I’m in desperate need of a shower. Not only do I smell like a strip club, but I also feel dirty after that man touched me.

After I tie my hair up, I stand under the stream, but don’t move a muscle, and let the hot water do all the work. I have my forehead resting on the cool tile and welcome the relief it brings, when the shower curtain rips open.

I gasp and lose my footing, but Sam grips my elbow to keep me from falling. He’s gloriously naked, and all I can do is stare at him. He turns me around so I can’t see the intensity in his face, then grabs my rose-scented soap and puts a blob in his hand before rubbing them together.

“Did you have a good night at work?” he asks, rubbing the soap onto my stomach.

“No,” I whisper, enjoying the feel of his touch.

“Why not?”

I shake my head and drop it back on his shoulder when his fingers gently rub the underside of my breasts. He applies a little more pressure and presses a kiss to my neck.

“Why not?” he asks again, this time a little firmer.

“Because I hate that job.”

“I hate that job, too. Everyone can see these.” His soapy fingers twist my nipples.

I have to force myself to stay standing as he continues rubbing and pinching the sensitive buds. “They can’t do this to them though, can they?”

I shake my head.

“No. They can’t,” he whispers then nips at my neck.

The tips of his fingers apply pressure as they make their way down my sides, and I stifle a giggle when he passes my ticklish spot. He chuckles and traces them back up to the same spot until I squirm. With a peck on my cheek, he goes further down until his hands can’t reach anymore then he turns me around and rinses me off.

With another handful of soap, he gets on his knees in front of me and begins lathering up each leg. He’s watching his hands so I can’t see what his face looks like right now, and it’s driving me crazy. When he reaches my inner thighs, he taps one of them with three fingers, asking me to spread.

I stare at those three fingers, imagining them doing something else, when he uses his other hand to open my legs himself. He pushes me back a bit so I’m under the water and runs his finger through my folds, washing, pampering.

I begin to rock on his hand, and he stands, pressing me against the wall. “They can’t do this, can they?” He cups me, and I look away, remembering how degraded I felt earlier. “Courtney, look at me.” His voice is frustrated.