Stripped Down (11 page)

“Cassie, baby. Cassie!” He grabbed my arms and met my gaze again before I could dart past him. “Grab CiCi a swimsuit and some clean clothes and let’s go. I’ll take you to pick her up.”

“You can’t,” I said hoarsely.

“Why not? Got a car seat?”

I nodded. I did, indeed.

“Then let’s go, babe. Get her a swimsuit and some clean clothes and tell me where the seat is.”

I stared at him blankly. I still didn’t understand.

He laughed. “All right, just the car seat then. But, when she asks why she can’t go in the pool, it’s on you.”

“You... What?”

Beck stared at me for what felt like an age before another laugh erupted out of him. The rich, deep sound made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “We’re going to my house. I have a pool in my backyard. Kids like pools, right?”

“I... Yes,” I said slowly. “Why are we going to your house?”

He smirked, the upturn of his lips dangerously dark. “You don’t want me to answer that honestly.”

This was insane.

I’d officially lost my freaking mind, and it was like Roadrunner had come and stolen it. I was never getting that bitch back.

Beck’s driving me to get CiCi meant I wasn’t late—I was actually pretty early, so I leaned against a tree by the front of the school and wrapped my arms around my stomach. I could have waited in the car, but there was something about being in an enclosed space with him that unnerved me.

Not in a bad way. That was the problem. I glanced at him several times on the way in, and all I thought was that I wanted to kiss him again. It didn’t help that I could still feel the warmth of his lips on mine.

I was probably imagining that I could feel it, but still. I was sure I could, and that wasn’t good. This was by far the most fucked-up situation I’d ever been in, and I’d taken a pregnancy test in the bathroom of a gas station before I threw up.

The test result was rendered pretty useless after that.

I sighed heavily and glanced to the corner of the street where he’d parked. I’d made him stay out of the sight of the school because the school’s gates were like being back in high school with all the gossip and drama that happened. I was already the youngest mom—I didn’t need another reason for dirty looks.

It seemed like an age until the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. CiCi’s class was the first out, and she greeted me her usual way: with a giant bear hug.

It was the best part of my day.

“Hi, Mommy.” She grinned up at me.

“Hey, baby.” I touched my thumb to her soft cheek. “Did you have fun today?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s go so I can show you my paintings!”

“Okay, but we’re not going home. We’re going to Mommy’s friends’ house. That cool?”

She blinked up at me. “Sure. Your friend from the other day?”

“Yep. He’s around the corner in his car. Ready?”

She excitedly grabbed my hand and skipped, tugging me after her, before she could even answer.

Except we were moving in the wrong direction because she had no idea where Beck’s car was. I spun us around and guided her in the right direction, both of us laughing.

“Is that his car?” she asked, pointing to a silver one.

“Nope.”

“That one?”

“Nope.”

“That one?”

“Nope. And, if you ask again, you’re gonna sit on the roof.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Until it rains.”

“Silly Mommy. It doesn’t rain here. It’s the desert. Like the Sarahara.”

I bit the inside of my lip so I didn’t burst out laughing. “You mean the Sahara. In Africa.”

“Yes. Is this Flynn Rider’s car?” She pointed to the white Range Rover that was, indeed, his car.

“His name is Beckett.” I opened the door for her and stepped back so she could see her seat. “Jump in.”

She handed me her backpack so she could climb in. “Hi, Beckett. Do you have a chameleon?”

I blinked and looked away as she tucked her arms in the straps of her seat. Good grief. She was real stuck on that Flynn Rider thing.

“Uh...no, I don’t have a chameleon. Should I?” He turned in his seat as I clipped her straps and shut the door.

“Yes. Flynn Rider has a chameleon.”

“No,” I said slowly, getting back into the front seat. “Rapunzel has Pascal. Remember? He hates Flynn at first.”

“And sticks his tongue in his ear!” She shrieks a giggle out and then covers her mouth with her hands.

Beckett’s dark gaze slowly came to rest on me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Disney’s Rapunzel. This week’s favorite princess,” I explained. “She has a... Never mind.”

“Okay.” He drew the word out a little and pulled away from the curb. “So, CiCi, why do I need a chameleon?”

“Because you look like Flynn Rider. Or Mommy could get one. Mommy, would a chameleon stick his tongue in Beckett’s ear if you hit him with a frying pan?”

Abort. Abort. Abort. “Why don’t you think about what you did at school today so, as soon as we get to Beckett’s house, you can tell me everything?”

“Okay.”

Beck looked appropriately horrified at CiCi’s last statement, but he didn’t address it until we’d driven right through the city and were at his house. “Rapunzel hits this Finn dude with a frying pan?”

“It’s Flynn,” CiCi corrected him with the righteous attitude of a princess expert. “And yes. Because he breaks into her tower. That’s what you’re supposed to do when people break into your house.”

Again, he looked at me, this time with curiosity sparking. “Did your mom teach you that?”

“Uh-huh.”

I shrugged. What? I had to justify it somehow. Disney didn’t exactly send a guide of explanations with the movie, did they? Besides, if someone broke into my house, I’d totally swing for them with a frying pan. That’s a logical response to a burglar.
I think.

I helped CiCi out of her seat and grabbed the bags from next to it. She fired off a million questions to Beck about why he didn’t know anything about Rapunzel and, of course, why he wasn’t the proud owner of a chameleon, since he looked exactly like Flynn Rider.

Apparently, my previous explanation about the lizard not being Flynn’s wasn’t an acceptable answer to her curious mind.

“I never thought about getting one,” he eventually said, holding the front door open so we could enter his house. “Maybe I should visit the pet store.”

CiCi gasped. “Can I come too?”

“Not right now,” I said, interrupting her before she could really get going on it. “Another day. Did you know that, if you go find the backyard, you’ll find something super fun?”

She raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes in a deer-in-headlights look before she ran off in search of the backyard.

“That was...cruel or genius,” Beck slowly said, staring after her. “I’m undecided.”

“Genius.”

“Wasn’t she supposed to tell you what she did at school?”

I smiled sweetly. “She does the same things every day. That’s why I’m a genius.”

He shook his head. “Amazing. How do you—”

“Mommy! Mommy, there’s a pool! Can I go in it? Please? Please? Please? Please?” CiCi came barreling back into the hallway, skidding to a stop on the laminate in front of me. “Mommy, please!”

Ten points to Beck for his thinking ahead.

“Here.” I handed her the bag with her swimming things.

She couldn’t grab it quick enough. She ran off the way she had come before, coming right back two minutes later.

“Um...where can I get changed?”

Beckett grinned. “Go upstairs. Pick aaaany room you want, except the one with the door shut, because that’s my bedroom.”

She glanced at me to make sure it was okay, and when I confirmed it with a slight nod, a smile stretched across her face and she turned to run up the stairs. Her stomping footsteps echoed up the wooden stairs, and I couldn’t help but smile at her excitement.

Swimming was a rarity, and even an entire hour in the bath three nights a week didn’t come close. This was a real treat for her.

“She doesn’t swim often, does she?” Beck asked quietly, his eyes on me.

I bit the tip of my tongue and, looking away from him, shook my head.

“Cassie.”

“Don’t, okay?” I met his gaze. “I can hear you pitying me. I don’t want it.”

He cupped my chin. “She can use my pool whenever she wants.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll be here every day.”

His lips twitched. “Damn. It’d be so hard to be around such a happy kid every single day.”

He was right. She was happy, and the root cause of it was such a simple thing.

I shrugged a shoulder and turned my head so he had to drop his hand. “Well, it depends on the day. Sometimes, she has more questions than an exam paper. Other times, she’s a wealth of completely useless knowledge about dinosaurs and cupcakes or something equally ridiculous. Other times... Well, other times, I want to run away.”

Beck laughed and waved me through the hallway to the kitchen. My stomach flipped as I followed him. The memories of what happened the last time I was there filtered through my brain, and although most of the night was still blank and unlikely to ever be recovered, walking into his kitchen the morning after and finding out we had gotten married was all too clear.

I swallow hard as I put the bags down on the kitchen island. The kitchen was just as clean and spotless as it had been that morning. It was almost as if the room hadn’t been used.

“Do you want some coffee?”

His question pulled me out of my head.

“Sure.”

“You look like you’re thinking pretty hard.”

Slowly, I nodded. “Do you ever use your kitchen?”

He stilled, a mug in his hand, and looked at me, a smile creeping onto his face. “Yes. Why?”

“It’s just really clean. I don’t think my kitchen has ever been this clean.”

“But you have a six-year-old. Your kitchen isn’t supposed to be this clean. Besides, don’t think of yours as unclean—it’s homely. Lived in.” He put the mug under the machine. “This one... Not so much.”

“Are you always alone here?”

“Mostly. Unless West is at work when I’m not and Mia is bored. Then she comes over with her work and makes use of the wine rack.” He pointed to it at the end of the kitchen. “I keep it stocked for her.”

“Mommy?”

“Turn left into the kitchen,” I yelled to CiCi.

She appeared quickly, her armbands and her beach ball in her hands. “Can you blow these up?”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Please,” she quickly added.

“I can do it,” Beck said, turning the coffee machine off and spinning around. “Here. Pass them over.”

CiCi did it without complaint. Then she patiently waited and watched as he blew up each armband and the ball. “Thank you!” She pulled the armbands on, waving me off when I tried to help. Then she grabbed the ball and ran to the back door.

Two minutes later, she was through it and had entered the pool on a giant splash.

“She can swim, right?” Beck looked at me with panicked eyes.

“She’s a great swimmer. Dad used to take her every weekend before he got sick again. Don’t worry.” The armbands were a just-in-case for her.

“Okay.” He warily took his gaze off her to grab the coffee cup.

I caught him glancing at her another two times as he pulled the milk from the fridge next to him.

I won’t lie. It made my heart skip a little every time his gaze flicked her way to check on her. Whether it was genuine concern for her or more fear that there was a six-year-old in his backyard pool, I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter much.

“So, is Mia here a lot?” I didn’t know why I’d asked it. I didn’t care. There was just an awkward silence I needed to fill.

Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, Cassie
.

“Yes and no,” he answered, pushing the coffee mug and the milk toward me. “Sugar?” He paused for my head shake and then continued. “West and I have known each other our whole lives, so Mia is like my little sister now. She sometimes does my laundry when I forget, she drinks my wine, she buys flowers for the living room, and, sometimes, she even brings me food.”

“Seriously?” My lips twitched. “You’re almost thirty and she’s doing all of that for you? And she runs her own business?”

“Yeah. Now that I say it out loud...”

“You sound like you can’t look after yourself.”

“Ouch.”

“Am I right?”

He paused. “Well... Sometimes, I forget to do stuff.”

“Like wash your clothes?” I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten to do my laundry.”

“Yeah, but you have a whole other person to look after.” He waved toward CiCi, who was swimming up and down the pool. “That’s crazy responsibility, Cassie. I own half a company and sometimes don’t even bother coming home from work because I have fuck all to come back to.”

Wow. “Do you really not come home?”

“Yeah. And Mia knows it. Those are usually the times I come home to find a fresh gallon of milk in the fridge, freshly laundered shirts hanging in the laundry room, and a note telling me to wash my own damn underwear because turning them inside out to wear again is only acceptable for college kids.”

I laughed into my hand, but he reached out, wrapped his fingers around my wrist, and then pulled my hand away.