I tip the last of the M&Ms into my mouth from their paper packet, thinking it over and savoring the crackle of the candy-coating shattering against my teeth. There is exactly zero chance I am ready to go home. It’s my birthday, and it’s time to celebrate. “Can we get the seasoned fries?”

  “Yes, we fucking can, girl!” Sam says.

  I nod and inhale, and then pull out my phone. Even though my parents are parked on the other side of the building, I call them instead of going out to the car. I don’t like lying and especially not directly to their faces. But this is a very special occasion. As the dial tone whirrs in my ears, I whisper to Sam, “Think your dad would let me stay the night?”

  “Pffft. Let you stay? He’d like you to live with us, Queen.”

  Oh geez. A hazy image of Mike in boxers drinking coffee in the kitchen every morning pops into my head. His dark hair with a hint of silver speckle coming through. He’s successful and does things his own way. Never brags or acts pretentious but I know just from being around, he’s got to be close to being a billionaire but he doesn’t act like it. He’s big like a protective bear and I bet his thighs are like marble and in that split-second, I realize I’ve never seen him in shorts, or a bathing suit…but the idea of thin, wet, nylon fabric clinging to his--

  My mom’s voice, sharp and annoyed, fills my left ear. “Yes, honey?”

  “Hi. I’m going to stay late to practice, and so is Sam. We are going to really knuckle down for a couple more hours. Then, tonight we’d like to practice more, help each other. He knows the Paganini and his critiques are brutal.” I say watching Sam nod on a silent laugh. “Then, I’ll just stay over at his house.”

  Mom sighs. I know she’s going to say yes; Mike and Sam’s is the only place I’m allowed to stay. She knows Sam won’t put the moves on me, because I’m not Sam’s flavor of ice cream. And Mike, even though she thinks he’s irritatingly rough around the edges, is like a member of our family. Sort of. Or he was, until I started admiring those veins in his forearms. “I suppose. But make sure you practice but also sleep.”

  “I will, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, and sweetie?”

  My heart swells. Here it comes. She’s remembered. She’s remembered today is my birthday. “Yes?”

  “Make sure you don’t get into all their junk food. You know they have some very poor eating habits.”

  My heart plummets and a stinging of sadness fills my nose. “Yes, Mom,” I say, and end the call.

  Three hours later and I’ve got a tummy full of buffalo chicken sandwich and seasoned fries and an onion blossom, and dining room at Chili’s seems…wobbly. I smack my lips around the straw that sits in the almost-finished wine-a-rita. “Are you sure it’s just wine in here?”

  Sam giggles. “Yes. But seeing as you’ve never had a drink of anything more adult than club soda, you’re gonna have the spins.”

  “The spins, oh my god, yes. I think I am heading into the spins.”

  “Right, you’re cut off, you lush,” Sam says, taking the fishbowl away from me. He pecks at his phone with an elegantly manicured finger then says, “Dad. SOS.”

  Mike’s gorgeous face appears on the other side of the FaceTime screen. I resist the urge to swoon right into a heap on the slightly sticky booth seat.

  Mike sweeps his big, muscular hand through his salt and pepper hair. I can tell from what’s behind him that he’s not at home; things that look vaguely like motorcycle parts line the shelves behind him. So that’s what he does instead of hovering. “Tell me.”

  Sam flips the camera around as he explains, “Wine-a-rita. Big one. Chilis on Route 8.”

  Mike chuckles out a laugh. I hear keys jingle. “You good, Jess?”

  I prop my face up with my hand and can’t help but stare at him like a star-struck little girl. Even his eyebrows are gorgeous. “We’re going to have brownie sundaes next. Gonna be ‘mmmmmmazing.”

  Mike lets out a deep, sexy laugh. “I’ll just drop off the bike and grab my pickup. I’ll be there before you know it.”

  He looks at me for a long second and behind my belly button there is this fluttery warmth then he says, “Happy Birthday, Jess. Welcome to adulthood.”

  And the screen goes dark but everything inside me light up.

  Our sundaes arrive, mine with a candle in it, and the whole waitstaff sings happy birthday to me. I am dying with embarrassment but loving it so much. And then I am lost in the magical land of warm brownies and cold ice cream and caramel sauce. The best.

  Once we’re done eating, I manage to gulp down two big glasses of water. Sam pays the bill and we totter off toward the unisex bathrooms. “God. I love gender equality!” Sam says, holding the door open for me. Together we pee, in adjoining stalls, and then do our lip gloss in the big mirror. Sam is just fussing for the sake of fussing. But I’m fussing… for Mike.

  Sam’s phone chirps and he takes my arm in his, leading me outside into the fresh night air. A group of guys is off to one side, being loud and rowdy. But I barely notice them. Because there, standing by his big, burly, black pickup, is Mike.

  And my whole body says, Hiiiiii.

  CHAPTER 2

  Mike

  I’ve known her for her entire life, but not until this past year did I start seeing her the way I do right now.

  And not until this moment did she make my dick rock hard.

  This is not supposed to happen.

  But the truth is, I fucking want her. With every cell in my goddamned body. Even though I know I shouldn’t. Even though I know we can’t.

  It’s like my entire being knew I had to hold it together until today. The ethical and moral balancing act happening in the background of my consciousness has reached the finishing line and fuck, the things that have swept through my mind today nearly brought me to my knees.

  I crack my neck side to side and open the passenger’s door of my pickup. Sam gracefully jumps in the back of the king cab. Jess, though, is a little more unsteady, and instinctively I grab her hand to steady her and guide her up into the passenger’s seat.

  I wish I could give her something for her birthday. I thought about it for months. Wanted to send her a thousand orchids or roses or something but I had to hold back my obsession. She’s fucking eighteen and I’m twice her age plus a few years.

  She looks up at me, wide and innocent. In the parking lot lights, I see her pretty cheeks flush. Her lips are shiny and full. She’s not a girl anymore. She’s a woman. And fuck, she is so goddamned beautiful.

  She blinks a few times and squeezes my hand. The way she’s touching me, it’s different than it used to be. It’s softer. And sweeter. Like she’s trying to tell me something with every touch.

  Fuck almighty. Is she flirting with me? With her fingers?

  I can’t let my head go there. She’s tipsy and I know it. First and always, I want to look after her. “Thanks for coming to get us,” she slurs, her words a little sloppy but her eyes are crystal clear.

  Seeing her tipsy and vulnerable, it triggers all my alpha protectiveness. I want to be her shelter from everything the world. In my periphery I see a group of guys watching her climb up into the passenger’s seat. One of them lets out a whistle, and I level him with a glare.

  I raise one fist. Watch your fucking mouths, dickheads, I tell them, without a word.

  It works. Fucking right it does. I’m an intimidating bastard when I want to be and I know it. One of them says, “Dude, sorry,” all sheepish, and they turn away.

  I refocus on Jess. She’s not usually clumsy, but the wine-a-rita is making her adorably uncoordinated. She’s in the cab now. She’s got her violin case pinned between her knees and her flip-flops have come halfway off. She yanks on the seatbelt too hard, and it gets caught in its housing, so the buckle only goes about four inches.

  Every time she yanks on it, it makes her tits jiggle, like fresh vanilla pudding.

  She tries once, twice, three times, and lets out a frustrated growl.

  “Stupid thing.” She says then growls again.

  That growl. Fuck, the places that growl would take me in my head. If I let it.

  I don’t let it. Not right now. I stay focused and protective. Sam snickers in the back seat and I give him a look. Be nice. He nods, looking brotherly at the back of her head.

  I take the buckle from her hand and guide it across her body, letting my forearm brush against her tits, feeling the soft coolness of her long red curls kiss my skin. I haven’t been with a woman since Sam was born. Me and his mother had a thing but that’s all it was.

  A thing. Then, she was pregnant and in college and her career was more important than being a mom but no way I was going to let her give up my son to another family so I took on the task of parenting him on my own for the most part.

  His mom had visitation and was around for holidays but I did the grunt work. The heavy lifting and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. As well, once I held him for the first time, I knew I’d never be with another woman unless she was ‘the one’.

  And fuck almighty if that turned out to be his best friend and my best friend’s daughter.

  I’m so screwed.

  “Thanks, Mike,” she says in a whisper. She does nothing more than that to encourage me. But touching her, it’s like an electric shock to my system. And fuck almighty she smells good.

  I’m so hard for her that my balls actually ache.

  I yank myself away, pissed at my inability to control even my thoughts. I close the door and turn away, walking it off and going to my side of the truck.

  But I can’t take my eyes off of her. Not even for a second. The dome light in the cab shows off her curves. And her valleys. And that tantalizing V right where her pussy meets her thighs.

  Christ. I gotta knock this off. Now. Right fucking now. It’s Jess. Sam’s Jess. Our Jess. She’s like my fucking daughter.

  And I’ve got no business thinking about what’s underneath those leggings. No business at all.

  Jess dozes off on the ride home. I keep stealing glances at her face, lit by the dashboard lights. Fucking gorgeous. Perfect. I’m counting her freckles. Naming each one and it takes all my willpower to keep my eyes on the road.

  Somehow, I pull it off. Even though I want her, I want to keep her safe even more. Sam opens her door and jostles her awake after I get the truck parked in the garage. She wakes startled and wipes her face like she’s been drooling, her eyes unfocused dreamy. “Oh my gosh. I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

  “Mmmhmm,” Sam says. “And girl, you snore.”

  Jess’s mouth drops open. “I do not.”

  Sam nods. “Yeppers, you do. Like a fucking freight train. Right, Dad?”

  Jess swings her head around to look at me. She looks totally embarrassed, and a sexy little blush creeps up her cheeks. “Mr. Hawthorne. Don’t tell me I was snoring.”

  “Jess.” I grit my teeth. “If you don’t start calling me Mike we’re going to have a problem.”

  The blush on her cheeks spreads down her throat and blooms on her chest. “I don’t want any trouble.” She teases biting into her bottom lip making my dick twitch. “Mike.”

  "Better.” I grunt because hearing her say my name has my heart thundering as it pounds blood down low and I have to turn away to take my next breath. In truth, she was snoring. No louder than a puppy. Cute as fuck. But I’m not going to rub it in. “No, you don’t snore. He’s just giving you a hard time. Now let’s get you two some water and then you gotta get to bed.”

  Sam chortles. “But officer, we’re eighteen. Both of us!”

  Goddamn I love that kid. Still, though. It’s a school night for him, and I know Jess has a big tryout in a week. It pisses me off, how hard her parents push her; they held her back years ago, and then pushed her to finish high school early? That’s bad then it made it impossible for her and Sam to spend their last months of high school together. What kind of fucking nonsense. But whatever. She needs her rest—they both do—I take that seriously.

  I nod toward Sam. “My house, my rules. We clear?”

  Sam mutters a loving, “Buzzkill!” and Jess lets out a sweet little laugh.

  We open the door from the garage into the mud room, and Sam’s chihuahua skitters joyfully around on the tile. His name is Lagerfeld and Sam has made it his person mission to make him the best-dressed chihuahua in the Carolinas.

  Right now, he’s wearing a teal silk bowtie, which Sam has decided is his Tuesday around-the-house attire. I pretend not to be interested at all. But goddamn he’s a cute little dog. Especially in the bowties.

  We make our way into the kitchen with Lagerfeld running circles around us. I pop open a beer and get the kids both a Topo Chico from the top shelf.

  The house has turned out well and every time I walk into it, I’m fucking proud of it. But I’m even prouder of the life I’ve made for Sam. It isn’t easy being a single dad. But he and I? I got lucky with him. That’s for damned sure.

  Sam’s phone chirps with a reminder, and he sucks in a breath. “Shit. I’ll be right back. Just need to submit this assignment for history tomorrow.”

  Jess gulps down a glass of water and nods. “’Kay,” she answers with an adorable little burp. “Is it for Mr. Harris?”

  Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeppers.”

  “Don’t be cute with your margins or the font size. He measures,” Jess says.

  “Copy that. Be right back,” Sam salutes, and runs upstairs with Lagerfeld chasing behind him making happy panting sounds.

  Which leaves Jess and I all alone, face-to-face in front of the sink.

  She’s swaying a little, still tipsy. She raises her pretty green eyes to me. I can tell she’s not hammered, not messy-drunk. More relaxed. Maybe a little less prim and proper. “You’re sure it’s okay that I stay the night?”

  Something about her tone of voice, it makes me think of all the things she isn’t saying. About her sleeping two rooms away from me. About her bra on the floor of my guest room. About her showering tomorrow morning in the shower I tiled myself. Such fucking intimacy. Such closeness. I need her so much more than she knows or I ever admitted to myself before now. “Of course it is. You know that. Always.”

  She nibbles the inside of her cheek like she does when she’s nervous. Her lips pulling to the side then popping together on a tight, little grin.

  Fuck. I’d give literally anything, literally everything, to feel those lips on mine.

  “Mike,” she says, on a whisper, tracing the edge of the countertop with her fingertip and that jolt I felt earlier when she used my first name is back with a vengeance.

  “Yeah.”

  She lifts her eyes again. They’re shimmering, but not with sadness. “Is there… something going on?”

  I keep my gaze right on her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She swallows, and I watch her pulse flutter in her throat. “Here. With us.”

  Holy fuck.

  The thing is, it’s impossible to ignore. And now I know she’s feeling it too. Fucking chemistry. 101. Pure and primal.

  And I can’t ignore it. But I can definitely deny it. “You should sleep,” I tell her, keeping my voice between a warning and something warmer and kinder. And doing my best to keep the lust out of my voice while talking down my hard-on.

  Her eyes trace my face and she takes a step closer. Inches between us now, no more. “That doesn’t answer my question. Is there something going on here?”

  She taps my chest with her index finger then points to her heart.

  I don’t say a fucking word. I don’t move a muscle. Because I know that if I do, if I let myself move at all, the next thing that happens is my mouth on hers, and me kissing her breathless and bending her over the back of the sofa and feeding her the ten inches of meat she’s brought to life .

  Her tits rise and fall as she watches me. Time slows down, dream-like. My cock throbs in my pants. My balls tighten and feel heavy.

  I have a flash fantasy of scooping her up on the granite countertop, right here, right now, and sliding my fingers inside her tender little wet hole, before I…

  No, fuck no. You fucking animal. Your job is to protect her. Even if it means protecting her from yourself.

  Sam’s footsteps coming fast down the stairs snap me back to reality. “I’m going to bed, Jess,” I tell her, and then turn and force myself, fucking force myself, to walk away. Without another glance back at her beautiful body. Her beautiful face. Her beautiful self.

  “Mike,” she calls after me. “Please, wait…”

  “Night,” I growl, and head down the hall.

  From around the corner, I hear Sam come back into the kitchen. His Vans squeak on the floor.

  Somehow, even from around the corner, I can feel the tone change between them. “Real talk, girl,” Sam says. “Are you….are you okay? After earlier? I did not want to talk about it in front of my dad, because, girl, you know he can be nutty when it comes to some stuff. That’s protective streak of his…”

  Now hold the fuck up. I freeze in my tracks. I don’t like the sound of that one bit. If someone hurt her, if someone offended her, I’m gonna fucking…

  Jess lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Spill it,” Sam says. “I want to know every-fucking-thing.”

  She sighs again. It sounds sad and defeated. All my protective instincts kick in hard like the rest of me. Possession, passion, protection. All of it.

  I listen, pressing myself against the wall as she goes on, “I mean, I know that trying out for the first violin puts a great big grubby target on my back. But If I don’t give Dr. Markham what he wants, if I don’t…I guess put out for him…whatever that means.”

  Oh hell no.

  “…then he’s going to cut me from the orchestra, Sam, and then what am I doing to…he said it’s his word against mine if I say anything.”

  She’s still talking, but I’m not hearing anything but the sound of bones breaking and a death rattle from that fucking conductor.