Say Yes (Something More) (3 page)

I feel terrible for putting Mrs. Peterson out, but Andrés has been training to take over his uncle’s businesses, and I know he needs his sleep. Tomorrow, they are meeting with the accountants.  He’s been so stressed lately, worrying he won’t live up to his uncle’s expectations.

I’ll wait,
he responds.
I’m still watching the game.

I wonder if he’s waiting because he’s really concerned about my wellbeing, or if he’s being overprotective because he knows Jackson is nearby. Either way, I’m grateful knowing Andrés is here for me.

I stifle a groan when Jackson’s family walks back into the room, Mr. James in front like a general leading his army. He scans the room with sharp eyes, his chin turned up in a condescending manner. He smirks when he looks at the empty chair besides Mrs. Peterson, and then he looks at me with a triumphant gleam.

I shrug and look down at my phone. What is he expecting me to do? Make excuses for Karri? I know she’s a lousy mother. I’m not about to defend her. Besides, I’m not here for Karri. I’m here for Tyler.

I’ll text you later, K?
I write to Andrés.

K,
he answers.
Love you.

I smile down at my phone as I text him back.
Love you, too.

I bite my lower lip as the memory of the first time he told me that flashes through my mind. It was past midnight. We’d just come from a swim to cool off, as the electricity had gone out in his apartment complex. We made love by candlelight. Even though the August heat was stifling, a light breeze blew through the open window. By the time I was nearing my third climax, sweat dripped off Andrés’s brow and shoulders, onto my electrified flesh. I relished the feel of his warm body and the taste of his salty skin as I nipped his arms and neck. I remember calling out his name as my release was building. Then I was overcome by waves of euphoric pleasure. My tight core pulsated around his thick erection while he continued to tunnel into me.  

Andrés said I’d said it first, I’d told him I loved him during that powerful climax. Honestly, I don’t remember. My lust-induced stupor probably had me saying all sorts of crazy things. After, I could feel the throbbing of his head inside me, and he groaned into my mouth and rolled over, pulling me with him, whispering, “I love you,
mija
,” into my ear.

I remember answering back I loved him, too, and from that night on, we told each other often. Still, every time he tells me he loves me, I get this warm fuzzy feeling in my chest, as if it is Christmas morning and his affection is a shiny new toy.

Andrés makes me so very happy, and I love him for it.    

A nurse walks into the waiting room, an older woman with white hair, thick spectacles, and a matronly smile. She looks at me and then at Jackson. “Tyler is awake and ready to see his parents,” she says.

I feel my skin flush ten shades of red. Jackson has the nerve to smirk at me. As if I’d ever want kids with him. Actually, I don’t want to bring kids into this twisted world at all, especially not with Jackson.

Mr. James storms toward the nurse. “Come on!” he says as he pulls Jackson by the arm. Jackson’s stepmom, a petite bleached blonde twenty years Mr. James’s junior, follows quickly behind them.

Jackson shoots me this expectant look, as if he’s telling me to follow, and then he disappears through the heavy door. I want so badly to see the baby, but I’m not following Jackson. I’m not Ty’s parent. Besides, Mr. James has already made it clear I’m no relation, and I’m sure he’d be pissed if I tagged along.

Mrs. Peterson tries to follow after them, but she hobbles too slowly and the door slams shut on her. I’m pissed because I know someone had to have heard her calling to hold the door.

The poor woman turns to me with a shrug. “I guess I’ll go look for Karri.”

I know Mrs. Peterson shouldn’t be walking in her condition. “No, you stay here in case she returns. I’ll go look.” I lead her to a chair and hurry out of the waiting room.

I scan nearby hallways and check a few restrooms. I even send Karri a text and try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. Then I remember the bar across the street. I could call Andrés and ask him if Karri’s there, but it’s only a short distance, and after my stressful evening, I could really use a cold beer and Andrés’s strong arms wrapped around me.

* * *

The night air is mild considering it’s only a few weeks till Thanksgiving. I button up my light jacket and trudge across the street. Once inside, I’m accosted by the heavenly smell of barbeque and greasy food.

Mmmm.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me I’m famished. Now I know Ty will be okay, I’m ready to chow down on some good food. Actually, I’m so hungry, any food will do.

Andrés has his back to me as he yells at a player on the television fumbling the ball. The place is full of Monday night football fans, most of them wearing hospital scrubs. I scan the room for Karri’s wild pink hair. It doesn’t take me long to see she’s not there. I notice a few of the guys nearby are checking me out.

Ugh. I know I look like shit. I threw my hair in a messy ponytail before we left the house. I didn’t even bother reapplying my makeup after a long day at school and then air brushing cars. I’m wearing an old T-shirt, Andrés’s windbreaker jacket, and workout pants. What is wrong with men?

I make my way through the crowd toward Andrés, ignoring the “Hey, baby” from some drunk behind me. Andrés is at a table with a bunch of guys I’ve never met before. He’s probably never met them before, either, but Andrés has this magnetic personality, and he can make friends with just about anyone.

He’s sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for the quarterback to throw the ball. He still hasn’t spotted me, so I hang back for a second. He’s got this look on his face as if all of life’s happiness hinges on this one moment.

I don’t bother looking at the television. Watching Andrés is far more enjoyable. He jumps out of his seat, pumping his fist in the air and hollering. He’s taller than most of the other men, and far more attractive. Even in late fall, he’s got beautifully tanned skin. He let his military cut grow out a little, and he’s got just the right amount of wave to his thick hair.

He’s kept his physique in prime shape, too. He’s been out of the army for almost eight months, but Andrés takes his PT seriously, jogging every morning before work and lifting weights three times a week. Sometimes, he even talks me into going jogging with him, which is totally insane because the sun isn’t even up yet, and I’m already exhausted from school, work and sex, lots and lots of sex.

I smile as he high-fives the other guys before falling back into his chair. He finally sees me as he leans over and grabs a nacho off the tray. He pops the chip in his mouth and waves me over. There are no empty chairs, which suits me just fine. I take a seat on Andrés’s thigh and plant a big kiss on his lips. He tastes like salsa and corn chips. I reach across his broad chest and steal his beer.

“Hey,” he says to me as he steals it back before I can take a sip. “Not until you eat something,
mija
.” He sets down the glass and pushes a styrofoam box toward me. “I ordered it to go. I didn’t think you’d come inside.” He’s got this apologetic look in his big, brown eyes, as if he’s sorry my dinner is in a box.

Jackson wouldn’t have thought to order me a meal at all. I frown as I pull away and open my box. Why would I even be thinking about Jackson? We’ve been broken up for six months.     

I lick my lips when I see I’ve got a big Cobb salad with chopped egg, chunks of bleu cheese, bacon pieces, grilled chicken, and two sides of balsamic vinaigrette. Oh, yum!  Damn, the boy is thoughtful. Not only does he remember my favorite salad, he also remembers I love extra dressing. Jackson wouldn’t have— Shit! Enough about Jackson.

I shake the image of my former fiancé’s pouty face out of my mind as I dig into my food.

Andrés kneads the tension from my shoulders as I eat. I shift in his lap a few times and smile to myself as I feel his growing bulge pressing against my ass.

Andrés grabs hold of my hips and growls a warning in my ear. “Stop, before I take you in the bathroom.”

I angle my head toward him and wink. “You don’t have the balls.”

He lifts a challenging eyebrow and licks his full, sensual lips. “Don’t dare me, mija. I’ll bend you over the sink.”

  My jaw drops, and as I look into his smoky gaze, I realize he’s not joking. Oh-mi-god! Sex in a crowded bar bathroom. That one isn’t on my bucket list, but it sure as hell is on my bucket list now. I reach between our bodies and stroke down the length of his erection, causing him to growl and grab my wrist.

I giggle and lick my lips as he pulls my hand to his mouth and plants a tender kiss on my palm. For a moment, I forget we’re in a crowded bar. The sound of cheering and swearing is drowned out by my buzzing hormones. After the shit I went through today, I could so go for an orgasm right now. Or two. Or three. I’m so damn tempted to pull him from this chair and drag him to the bathroom myself.

But then a familiar sound pulls me from my lust-induced haze—the rumble of a loud muffler. I turn my head and see the large, rusty truck out on the street in front of the bar, faintly illuminated by the street lights.

Robbie? Karri’s drug-pushing ex-boyfriend! What the hell is he doing here?

I jump from Andrés’s lap and push my way through the crowd. Andrés is calling me, and I feel bad leaving him with a hard-on, but I don’t dare stop. As I finally make it outside, practically tumbling onto the sidewalk, the light turns green and the truck barrels through the intersection, leaving behind a cloud of fumes. Even through the darkness and smoke, I can clearly make out Karri’s pink hair in the passenger window.

Holy fuck!

* * *

I’ve made up my mind I hate hospitals. After my dad’s heart attack and demise, and now this, I never want to see another polished tile or white, stucco wall again.  Although we’ve been having an unusually warm fall, I shiver beneath my light jacket while I sit alone in the waiting room.

Only a hospital would run an A/C full blast in November.

  After watching Karri throw her life down the toilet again, I went back and told Andrés I was no longer in the mood to eat. He offered to go after Karri, but I didn’t want him getting into it with her boyfriend. Besides, even if we got Andrés’s truck out of the parking garage, Karri would be long gone. So I trudged back to the hospital, not looking forward to telling Mrs. Peterson Karri ran off with a drug dealer.

But Mrs. Peterson isn’t here. Nobody is here, and I’m wishing I would have stayed at the bar with Andrés.

“Teen—Christina. Tyler is asking for you again.” Jackson’s large frame practically fills the entry as he props the heavy door open with his foot. Despite his size, I’ve never really thought of Jackson as a man, but more like a big baby. But this baby is a daddy now, which is still hard for me to process. 

“Where are your parents?” I ask. Even though I want so badly to see Tyler, I don’t want to get between the baby and Mr. James. I hate that the man scares me, but he does. He didn’t like me much when Jackson and I were engaged, and he most certainly doesn’t like me now.

Jackson grins sheepishly. “They’re talking to the nutritionist.”

“And Mrs. Peterson?” I ask.

His boyish face hardens, and he shrugs. “How am I supposed to know?” 

I walk over to Jackson, knowing it’s now or never if I want to see Tyler. I hope Mrs. Peterson got a chance to speak with the nutritionist since she can’t afford a personal chef.

“I need to start researching his diet,” I say as I walk through the door and underneath his arm. Being this close to Jackson, I’d forgotten how tall he is, although anyone is tall compared to me.

I have to crane my neck to look up at him as we walk side-by-side down the narrow hallway and past the nurses’ station. That’s when I realize how mismatched the two of us are. No wonder he was so condescending to me. The guy towers over me like a giant.   

“I don’t need these.” Jackson hands me a stack of pamphlets on gluten intolerance. “Dad’s staff is already interviewing personal chefs.”

 I look down at the first flyer. It’s got a picture of a wheat stalk with a big X painted over it. Okay, so wheat is out of the question. That eliminates about everything I eat on a daily basis.

I clutch the flyers while looking up at Jackson. “Tyler is very lucky.”

We reach the door to the baby’s room, and Jackson grabs the handle before rolling his eyes. “Only the best for grandpa’s little tiger.”

I hate the way Jackson says “little tiger” like the words are some venomous, foul stench. I have to turn away and take a breath of fresh air, because I realize his words
are
a foul stench. Jackson and I have been apart for so long, I’ve forgotten about his farty breath, but when it hits me like a vaporized Mack truck, I feel like I might lose my dinner.

Ewwww, Jackson, go see a freaking dentist.  

I take another gulp of air and turn to him. “You sound jealous,” I say, digging a stick of gum out of my purse. This usually worked with Jackson when we were dating.

Luckily, he takes the stick I offer him. Too bad it will only slightly mask the smell, not obliterate it. As he loudly smacks on the gum, I can still scent the methane undertone beneath the cool mint. 

“I’m not jealous.” He vehemently shakes his head.

I know better. Jackson was always the jealous type. It’s a shame he has to be this way over his own child.  

“You shouldn’t be.” I point a finger at his chest. “He’s
your
son.”

“I know that.” Jackson grimaces, acting like I’ve wounded him with a verbal spear. Is it that much of a burden being a father to this sweet little baby, especially when Jackson’s parents are the ones raising him?

“I’m just glad he’s going to be okay,” I add, making sure I lay the guilt on thick.

“Yeah, me, too,” Jackson says with indifference as he pushes open the door to Tyler’s room.