I can barely get through a day without leaning on one of them for something, so I’d be wise to cut the shit when it comes to Adrian and my suddenly overactive libido.

  Iris is right. If I want to go to pound town, I could find a guy to take me there. It would take about three minutes on Tinder to find someone with the needed equipment who’d be ready and willing. Men have been looking at me “that way” since the second my boobs showed up when I was in eighth grade. It used to drive my mother crazy that grown men would look at her thirteen-year-old daughter like I was an all-you-can-eat buffet or something.

  She’d lash out at them in public. “Put your eyes away, you creep. She’s thirteen.”

  That was mortifying.

  I got so I never wanted to go anywhere with her because, no matter where we went, there were men with eyes that landed on me in a way that made us both feel uncomfortable, and she was always ready to put them in their place. That was when my “big shirt” phase started and spanned most of high school until Jaden convinced me to quit caring what any other guy thought of me or my body. He thought I was sexy, and he liked to look at me.

  So I dressed for him and only him.

  It wouldn’t take much to find a new guy to scratch my itch.

  Except…

  When I think about doing that, I only want to do it with Adrian.

  And we’re right back to where we started with me knowing that’s a bad idea and my brain refusing to look at anyone but him.

  I haven’t had self-destructive tendencies since Jaden broke me of that nonsense years ago. I had the most awesome boyfriend who made me feel like a queen, and I no longer had the need to do stupid things to sabotage my own life. Then he went and died on me, and now I don’t give a crap about things like being proper with the hot-as-hell man who employs me to care for his son—who I love more than anyone on earth.

  I don’t care if I screw up everything by wanting Adrian. Side note: I do care. I care way too much, but that’s not stopping these wildly inappropriate thoughts.

  He doesn’t seem to have any problem hooking up with randos, so maybe he wouldn’t mind hooking up with me.

  Could I come right out and ask him how he might feel about that?

  Pre-widow Wynter never would’ve considered such a thing, but then again, she never had to. She had a boyfriend from the ninth grade on who satisfied every need she ever had. He taught her about love and sex and orgasms and everything else that mattered. But he’s gone now, and she’s left to carry on by herself.

  “Are you done thinking of yourself in the third person?” I say out loud.

  Adrian appears in my doorway. “Did you say something?”

  “Oh, um, I was kinda talking to myself. I do that.”

  “Ha, me, too. Does yourself ever answer?”

  “All the time, and it tells me to do things that I shouldn’t.”

  He puts his hands over his head to grip the door frame, which puts his incredible body on full display. “Like what?”

  I’m so dazzled by his well-honed muscles, the toned abdomen and the big bulge in his boxer briefs that I’m momentary speechless. Add all that to his showstopper face, and it’s a potent combination.

  “Wynter?”

  “Like, um, going downstairs to check on a noise and seeing you, you know…”

  He cringes. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It looked hot.”

  He releases a deep sigh. “It was okay. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “I’m not.” Look at post-widow Wynter go! She puts it all out there.

  “You aren’t?”

  “Nope. And you may as well know… I saw you last week, too.”

  “Jesus, Wynter. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “What was I supposed to say? I thought there was a robber in the house, so I went downstairs and saw you banging someone in your office?”

  “Well, yeah, that would’ve been a good place to start. I knew I shouldn’t have brought them here. It felt wrong to me, but I couldn’t exactly spring for a hotel room that would take half the money I just earned.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “And yet, it feels wrong.”

  “Because it wasn’t Sadie.”

  “Yeah, and because you and my son were sleeping upstairs, or so I thought. I should’ve at least given you a heads-up that I was bringing someone home. I’m sorry I didn’t do that. I’ve lost all sense of decorum on these things. My sister would kick my ass if she knew I’d done that.”

  “It’s all good. I’m sorry I invaded your privacy. I feel bad about that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Could I tell you one other thing?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ever since I saw you… Last week and then tonight… I’ve wondered what it might be like to, you know… Do that with you.”

  He lets his head fall back as he exhales loudly.

  But the bulge in his shorts is suddenly much larger.

  “We can’t, Wynter. It would screw up everything.”

  I don’t know what makes me do it, but I get up from the bed and go to him, placing my hands on his chest before he even knows I’m there. “Maybe it wouldn’t.”

  He gasps when I touch him. “It would. I need you so badly right now with Xavier. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You know how much I love him.”

  “I do, and I have to keep my focus on him, no matter how sexy I think you are.”

  “You think I’m sexy?”

  “Wynter, any man with a pulse would think you’re sexy.”

  “I’m not asking about any man. I’m asking about you.”

  He curls his hands around my wrists, and it’s all I can do not to go up on tiptoes and kiss him. “Yes, I think you’re sexy. I think you’re funny and loving and sweet, even though you want everyone to think you’re a nasty badass.”

  Then he removes my hands from his chest and takes a step back.

  I look down and note that the crown of his cock is poking out of the waistband of his briefs. What would he do if I dropped to my knees in front of him?

  “We can’t, Wynter. We just can’t. Sex screws up everything, and I can’t do that after finally getting back on track after Sadie and Alyssa died. I just can’t.”

  I hear what he’s saying, and I even agree with him, but my heart aches, as if I’ve lost something I never had.

  He kisses my forehead. “Get some sleep, okay?”

  As if that’s going to happen. “Sure.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  I watch him walk away, noting the fine play of muscles and sleek skin, and it’s all I can do not to drool.

  The thing is, it’s not just about his sexy body or perfect cock for me. I like him. I like how he is with Xavier, how he’s stepped up to single parenthood after the worst possible loss and made it work—somehow. I like that he’s a good friend to everyone and how he’s right there to support any of us when we need it.

  Adrian is the full package in more ways than one, and now I know something I didn’t know before: He thinks I’m sexy, and he wants me, too.

  I can work with that.

  * * *

  Adrian

  How is it that I just had sex—and got to finish this time—and all I can think about is Wynter suggesting we get busy? The woman who came home with me tonight told me her name was Tulip. I’m not sure if that’s her real name.

  She made the weirdest noises when we were doing it, which was so distracting. Not so much that I couldn’t get us both to the finish line, but it was odd.

  Even with the noises, she’d be much safer to hang out with than Wynter, who’s like a keg of dynamite. She’s my nanny and my friend. We have a ton of mutual friends who’d be impacted if she and I were to make a mess of things.

  The fact that she’s my nanny is the most important thing. I need to put Xavier and his needs ahead of my own. He loves Wynter, and she loves him. Our arrangement is working out perfectly for all of us, and I’d be a complete fool to screw with that—literally.

  But the truth is, it took every ounce of willpower I could muster to walk away from her just now. If she were anyone else, standing before me looking sweet and sexy and willing, I wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to say no.

  However, she’s Wynter.

  To my knowledge, she hasn’t gone there since she lost Jaden. So despite how casual she made it sound, it would be anything but for her. Or for me. There would be feelings involved if it happened with her. I love her. Of course I do. We’ve been through hell together and are coming out the other side of early grief at the same time.

  I lay facedown in bed, wishing my cock would get the message that fun and games are done for the night. All I can see when I close my eyes is Wynter in a tight black tank top and tight black-and-white polka-dotted shorts that left little to the imagination.

  I can’t believe she saw me getting busy last week and again tonight. I should be concerned about that, but when I think about her watching us, I just get harder.

  Groaning, I turn onto my back and push my underwear aside so I can tend to this situation, which needs to happen if I have a prayer of getting any sleep tonight. This time, when I take matters into my own hand, I don’t feel guilty at all about letting Wynter be my inspiration. This persistent erection is her fault, after all.

  Now that she’s put the idea of us having sex in my head, how will I think about anything else?

  True confession time. The first time I ever saw Wynter, I thought she was stunning. My immediate reaction to Wynter, shortly after I lost my beloved wife, shocked me. It also made me angry with myself. Like, how can I think she’s stunning when I just lost my wife? For a while after that, I was chilly to Wynter, which I can now see was a dick move.

  How was it her fault that I was immediately attracted to her when I had no business thinking that way about anyone with a newborn baby depending on me for everything? It wasn’t her fault, and eventually, I got over being pissed with her for something she had nothing to do with.

  However, I’ve never forgotten my first reaction to her.

  If I could’ve pointed to any woman to be the first after my wife, I would’ve pointed to her.

  She’s too young for me.

  She’s too much for me.

  She works for me.

  There’re a million reasons why she should be the last woman on earth who makes me hard, but as I stroke myself to an orgasm that makes the one I had earlier feel weak by comparison, there’s no denying I want Wynter.

  10

  Wynter

  Things are tense between Adrian and me as we prepare for the party. Expecting to spend the day there, I brought clothes to change into, and after I shower, I return to the kitchen, which is a beehive of activity as Sadie’s sisters and our Wild Widows help get ready. Adrian told us he had no idea how to have a birthday party for a one-year-old, so we all pitched in to pull it off.

  Lexi comes in carrying the firetruck cake she offered to pick up since the bakery is close to her house. She puts it on the kitchen table, and we gather around her as she removes the lid to the box.

  “Oh wow,” Adrian says. “That’s a work of art. You were right, Iris. They’re amazing.”

  “I had to pull some strings and use the widow card to sneak you into their always-booked schedule.”

  “Whatever you did to make it happen, thank you.”

  “They included a cupcake for the birthday boy,” Lexi says of the second smaller box.

  “What’s that about?” Adrian asks.

  “The tradition is for the one-year-old to serve himself his own cake,” Iris says, “so there’s always a smaller one for him or her to smash and eat.”

  “That sounds messy,” Adrian says.

  “That’s the whole idea,” Iris replies, grinning.

  “Xavier will love the cake and smashing the cupcake,” I say. “Well done, guys.” I go to retrieve the bag I brought in from my car earlier and hand it to Adrian. “I got this at a party store. I didn’t see any point to wrapping it. I hope he likes it.”

  As Adrian pulls the fireman costume out of the bag, the others ooh and aah over it. “Oh my God, Wynter. He’ll go crazy for this. Where’d you find it in March?”

  I love that the gift has made him smile. “The party stores are all Halloween all the time.”

  “How do people who don’t have kids know that, and I don’t?”

  “Stick with me,” I tell him. “I know everything.”

  “Does anyone doubt that she does?” Iris asks.

  Lexi, Brielle, Joy and Christy laugh.

  “I wouldn’t argue with her,” Christy says, smiling at me.

  “I keep all you senior citizens hip,” I tell them.

  “Hey!” They all speak as one as I crack up.

  “Who’s she calling a senior citizen?” Gage asks as he carries in a cooler full of ice.

  “All of us who are older than her,” Iris tells him.

  “Well, compared to her, we are seniors.”

  “That’s right, Big Daddy,” I say in a teasing tone. He and I once did the math and realized he could’ve been my father, not that he wanted to hear that.

  “I love that nickname,” Iris says, laughing.

  “I do not,” Gage says, which only makes us laugh harder.

  “You guys are so fun,” Adrian’s high school friend Danielle says.

  I tried not to hate her on sight. She’s tall, Black, gorgeous, smart and just the kind of woman I can picture him with. I heard her telling Joy that she, too, is an attorney. In other words, she’s everything I’m not.

  “We try to keep it real,” Iris says in response to Danielle’s comment.

  “When Adrian told me his Wild Widows were coming today, I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Danielle says.

  “We can be an irreverent bunch,” Brielle says. “It’s how we cope.”

  “I think it’s wonderful that you all have each other.”

  “We are pretty wonderful,” Iris says, smiling, before she goes to tend to Laney in the bathroom.

  I glance at Adrian, who seems to be having trouble making eye contact with me today. “I also got fire hats for the other kids, and I did some goody bags for them.”

  “You’re the best, Wynter. Thank you so much.”

  “No problem.”

  Adrian’s sister, Nia, arrives with her husband, Mick, and their kids, Chantelle and Malik, who are very polite as they shake my hand. I remember Adrian saying they’re twelve and fourteen. They were here the night Alyssa died, but we didn’t really get the chance to talk to each other.

  “You’re Adrian’s nanny, right?” Nia asks, giving me a once-over. She shares her brother’s prominent cheekbones and wears her hair in long braids.

  “She is,” Adrian says, “and don’t do what you do, Nia.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Critique my whole life. Wynter is awesome, Xavier loves her and we’re all doing great. So butt out.”

  “I was just going to thank her for taking good care of my nephew,” Nia says with sisterly exasperation. “I apologize for my brother. He’s cranky.”

  I bite my lip so I won’t laugh, sensing he wouldn’t appreciate me finding her funny.

  “Don’t mind them,” Mick says. “They’re always bickering. You get used to it after a while.”

  “Good to know,” I tell him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Is there beer?”

  “In a cooler on the back deck.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is that the brother-in-law you work with?” I ask Adrian when I join him at the counter to finish making the pizzas for the kids.

  “Yep. We’ve been friends forever. He and Nia have been together since I was in middle school. I tell her all the time that I get custody of him in their eventual divorce.”

  I sputter with laughter. “That’s rude.”

  “Just so she knows where she stands with me, and of course it’s all in good fun. I never would’ve made it without both of them after Sadie and then Alyssa died. Nia practically raised me.”

  “Where were your parents?”

  “Never knew my dad, and my mom had a lot of issues. Nia and I ended up in foster care a few times, and thankfully, we got to stay together.”

  “I’m glad you had her.”

  “I am, too, but now we love to bust each other’s balls nonstop.”

  “Mom doesn’t have balls, Uncle Adrian,” Malik says as he steals a piece of pepperoni from the pile on the counter.

  We crack up.

  “Whoops.” Adrian glances at me with a warm, affectionate look that makes my knees go weak. “Quit being so smart, mister.”

  “Can’t help it. It’s in my DNA.”

  After Malik takes another piece of pepperoni, he runs away.

  “Is that what I’m in for in about twelve years?” Adrian asks.

  “Might be even sooner. Xavier is the smartest boy I’ve ever met.”

  We get the older kids started with adding toppings to their pizzas, which was my idea when Adrian asked what he should do for food, while I make a plain cheese for myself. Xavier, dressed in the fireman costume he loved, is in his high chair, gnawing on crackers and little bits of cheese that I put on his tray.

  He’s all smiles as he watches the other kids make pizzas and then as he opens his presents while the pizzas bake.

  It’s so fun to watch his reaction to each new toy, book, game and even the outfit that Nia and Mick give him.

  “He’s styling like his daddy,” Nia says. “From the time Adrian could afford to buy nice clothes, he was always the best dressed.”

  “What can I say?” Adrian replies. “Clothes make the man.”

  Today, he’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a light gray T-shirt that molds to his muscular body. I want to know if the shirt is as soft as it looks, but I don’t dare go near him after last night’s conversation. Even though nothing happened, it feels like everything has changed between us.