Mr. September: A Single Parent Romance (Calendar Boys Book 9) Page 5

  “That was one time.” I chuckle. “I was being a gentleman.”

  “It didn’t feel like you were being a gentleman just now,” she calls from the kitchen.

  I chuckle and run my hand through my now-messy hair.

  “I’ll tell you what though, slick, I give you an eight for kissing.”

  “Eight?” I call back, jumping to my feet and stalking after her.

  I find her in the kitchen, a devious smile on her face as she sets down the wine bottle.

  “What?” she asks innocently, batting her long lashes at me.

  I take a step towards her and she takes one backwards.

  “You’d give me an eight for that spine-tingling kiss in there?” I growl, taking another step, she backs up again until she’s flush against the wall.

  “I think you can do better.” She tugs her lower lip into her mouth again.

  “I’ll show you better.”

  I step into her body, grab her legs and hoist her up into my arms before she can even say another word.

  She gasps and I swallow it, dipping my head and kissing her without restraint until I have to come up for air. I suck in a breath and move on to her neck, kissing every patch of skin available to me.

  She moans, louder this time, and I press her harder into the wall.

  “Ten.” She pants. “I give you a ten.”

  “Only a ten?” I grunt, bringing our faces level.

  “Fifteen, twenty… one hundred…” she stutters. “I’ll give you any number you want if you kiss me like that again.”

  I chuckle. I’m only too happy to oblige.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Morgan

  It’s been days since I’ve seen him, but I swear I can still feel where his lips touched mine.

  Where his hands gripped my thighs…

  If he can kiss like that, I can only imagine what a man like Brody Owens can do in the bedroom.

  Of course, he was too much of a gentleman to let me find out.

  He left me wanting, but also in awe of his considerate nature and respectful attitude. If my son grows up to be anywhere near as respectful towards women as Brody is, I’d be a happy mother.

  He drove me home and walked me to the door with a PG version of a goodnight kiss, in case prying eyes were on us, which I’m confident they were.

  The minute I stepped in the door, I was greeted by my teenage son, an amused expression on his face and a comment about Brody being an ass-kisser for having me home on time.

  There is seriously no pleasing that boy, but I know one thing, the minute he starts dating, I am going to embarrass him big time – he owes me.

  I take another sip of my coffee and try to wake myself up.

  Brody and I spent half the night talking on the phone. He told me about how he’s settled into his role as coach, and I told him about the real-estate business. He told me about his sister and all the things he used to do to her when he was younger, and I told him about what it was like having a toddler on my eighteenth birthday while all my school friends were out partying. He told me about his pre-game superstitions, and I told him how I still sleep with the hallway light on.

  We talked about everything from total nonsense, to the more important things in our lives until I must have fallen asleep.

  I woke up with the phone on the pillow next to me and a goodnight text from Brody waiting for me.

  I’ve got to show three couples through a house this morning and meet with two new clients this afternoon about getting their properties on the market.

  I’m exhausted from the lack of sleep, but oddly, I’ve never felt so alive.

  Ethan bounds into the kitchen, his hair perfectly styled in that look he’s going for, and his signature basketball singlet in place. He’s got a Tigers hoodie draped over his arm. I swear the kid just has ten of the same items of clothing that he wears on repeat.

  “Did I wake up in the twilight zone or are you ready on time for once?” I make a show of glancing at my watch.

  He grins as he swings open the fridge and starts loading food into his backpack. “Lachie’s mum is giving me a lift to school this morning,” he explains.

  I resist the urge to celebrate. Not having to drive him to school means I get a few extra minutes to sit in my kitchen and enjoy my coffee.

  “I’ve got basketball practice after school today, don’t forget,” he reminds me as he fights with the zip on his overstuffed bag.

  There’s no way I’d forget, not when his coach looks like that.

  “So, you’re getting a ride there, and I just have to pick you up at six, right?”

  “Preferably from in the carpark.” He grins, before turning his back on me.

  I flip him off when he’s not looking. Little shit.

  “Say hi to Brody for me,” I say as he strolls out of the room, in an attempt to rile him up.

  “Not a chance in hell, Mum,” he calls back.

  I laugh as I hear the door open and he calls out goodbye.

  “Teenagers,” I mutter as I put the milk back in my now-half-empty fridge.

  I swear that kid is going to send me broke one of these days.

  I glance at my watch again, slug back the rest of my coffee and think energetic thoughts as I walk out the door to my car.

  ***

  By the time I pull into the carpark of the gym just before six, I’m grateful to be there; I’ve felt oddly on edge all day, like someone was watching me. At one point, as I drove between clients, I could have sworn a flashy white sports car was following me, but by the time I decided to get its number plate, it was gone.

  I’ve always had an overly active imagination; it would seem I let it get the better of me today – must be the lack of sleep.

  I glance around the carpark. There are some players, maybe nineteen years old or so, milling around the entrance, and that makes me feel better about getting out of my car and crossing the darkened carpark on my own.

  The weather is packing in; I can feel the drops of rain hitting the top of my head as I rush across.

  I wrap my jacket tighter around myself as I step into the gym. The group of swooning mothers is nowhere to be seen today, so I don’t go right in, instead choosing to watch from the viewing window in the foyer instead.

  I spot Ethan in a line of boys, running drills. I watch as he catches the ball, dribbles it before making a long-range shot, which he nails. He flicks his hair back off his face and jogs to the back of the line.

  I scowl at the back of his head. That god damn hair, I might have to cut it off while he sleeps.

  My eyes wander until they land on Brody. He’s working one-on-one with a tall – even by basketball player standards – teenager. He’s explaining something to the boy, and when he complies and completes the move as explained, I see Brody’s mouth turn up into a satisfied smile. He claps the boy on the back – praising him.

  He’s wearing a singlet and a baggy pair of basketball shorts. His arms and shoulders are toned and defined.

  Even marred by his surgery scars, he doesn’t look like an ex-athlete; he looks like one in his prime.

  He blows the whistle loudly and points across the gym and the team takes off running.

  His eyes follow them, but as they pass the window I’m watching from, his gaze catches on mine and he smiles, wide and easy.

  I raise my hand and wave, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I stare at him in all his glorious perfection.

  He waves back, his grin somehow widening further.

  He holds up one finger to me, asking me to wait, and I nod eagerly.

  I busy myself looking at the team photos that adorn the walls on the foyer. I stroll past year after year until I find one from three years ago, and I scan it, looking for Brody. I find him in the second row, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

  I trail my finger over the shape of him. Basketball has never seemed so interesting.

  I hear the gym doors open and then a flood of chatter and bouncing ba
lls as the team make their way out of the gym.

  Teenager after teenager file out, some of them taking a seat, others heading straight out into the carpark.

  Their mothers must be able to follow instructions.

  Poor Ethan.

  I spot my son sauntering out of the gym; he scans the foyer, finds me and gives me one of those chin lifts, before turning back to his conversation with the boy I now know is Hunter.

  Too cool for his mum, yet again.

  I roll my eyes and go back to looking at the team photos, wandering further behind the huge wall of them. I find Brody in three more; he’s got the same staunch pose and defined muscles in all of them.

  “Something catch your eye?” a deep voice near my ear startles me.

  I spin around and scowl at Brody, who is chuckling to himself.

  “You scared me.” I shove his chest.

  He catches my hand and tugs me towards him, surprising me by placing a kiss to my forehead.

  We’re out of view of the kids around here, but still, I’m surprised he’s being so publicly affectionate.

  “Sorry, Morgs, you were kind of in the zone.”

  I smirk at him. “I was just checking out a pic of some hot ball player.”

  “Oh yeah?” He chuckles, his arms weaving around my waist and pulling me flush against him.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “His name is Adam, he’s the lead point scorer,” I tell him innocently, relaying the information he told me last night about his friend and former team-mate.

  “That wounds me.” He groans, a cheeky smile on his lips. “Makes sense though… you’re too pretty to be dating me without an ulterior motive.”

  I shake my head in amusement. “I know, right?” I tease.

  He chuckles again and I feel the deep rumble through our joined chests.

  He lowers his head to my level and brushes his lips softly against mine.

  I feel eyes on me again, and when I peer around Brody’s side, I see they belong to my son.

  “Gross,” he deadpans. “You two should get a room.”

  Brody turns at the sound of his voice. “Really, dude?” he asks, his brow raised. “You want me to get a room with your mum?”

  I smother a laugh. Brody is being an awfully good sport when it comes to dealing with my son – I guess he’s used to dealing with a whole bunch of teenage boys; one is probably a walk in the park.

  “Wha— no, I… that’s not what I meant,” Ethan stutters, his cheeks reddening. “You guys need to stop twisting my words.”

  “Are you ready to go?” I ask him as I try to tug away from Brody, who doesn’t let me move an inch.

  “I’m ready.” He hitches his bag higher on his shoulder, his eyes narrowing on us. “Do you have to do that here?”

  I open my mouth to say something, but Brody gets in first.

  “Sure do, bud, I’m planning on making it a regular thing. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Ethan crosses his arms across his chest, and I can physically see him thinking it over. “Might be.”

  “Anything I can do to sweeten you up?” Brody offers, the corners of his mouth twitching as I glance up at him.

  “Are you bribing him?” I ask at the same time that Ethan replies, “Bribery, I like it.”

  “You bet I am,” Brody says, to me this time. “I want to kiss you whenever I want, I don’t care what it costs me.”

  I huff out a laugh.

  “Within reason,” Brody amends, releasing my waist with one of his hands and pointing a warning finger at Ethan. “Just because you’re my strongest point scorer, doesn’t mean I’m going to let you off easy.”

  I see Ethan’s chest puff up ever so slightly with Brody’s praise.

  Apparently, I’m not required for this conversation. It seems Brody and Ethan are going to work this one out on their own.

  My son likes this man, I can tell – he looks up to him, and the thought warms my heart.

  “I want you to take me to a Tigers game. Courtside tickets,” Ethan replies, his tone smug, like he thinks Brody won’t be able to deliver.

  I feel a little guilty at his request. I’ve been promising him tickets for years, but it’s never happened. They’re not exactly cheap.

  “Done,” Brody replies simply.

  Ethan’s eyes bulge. “Seriously? You get to kiss my mum and shit and I get to go to a game?”

  “Ethan!” I hiss. “You’re making it sound like you’re my pimp.”

  He swipes his hand in my direction, effectively brushing me off. “Shhh, Mum, I’m negotiating.”

  Brody chuckles, and I feel his lips brush against the top of my head.

  “Name your terms,” Brody offers easily.

  “I want to bring a friend.”

  “Done.”

  “And I want snacks.”

  I roll my eyes, but Brody just laughs and nods. “Of course. Goes with the package,” he reassures him.

  Ethan nods thoughtfully and I resist the urge to stomp my foot.

  “Are we done here?” I demand.

  Ethan nods. “Deal.”

  Brody slips his other hand from my middle and closes the gap between him and my son.

  “Deal.” He offers his hand and Ethan shakes it firmly.

  “Thank god,” I mutter under my breath.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Brody announces, glancing back over his shoulder at me.”

  I frown in confusion. “For what?”

  “The basketball game.” He shrugs. “The Tigers play tomorrow night and it sounds like we’re all going to the game.”

  Ethan whoops loudly and throws his arms in the air. “Seriously, Mum, your new boyfriend is the man,” he yells out before rushing off, I assume to celebrate with whoever is left here from the team.

  I gape at Brody as he strolls back over to me. “You realise you just made his year, right?”

  He shrugs. “It was no big deal.”

  I step towards him and throw my arms around his neck. “It was a very big deal, slick.” I press a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you.”

  “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t deliver the goods?” he asks with a smirk.

  I feel myself blush. “Sorry about that, I don’t think he realised he was jumping the gun.”

  He silences me with a kiss. “Don’t apologise, I like the way it sounds,” he whispers against my lips.

  My head feels foggy and my heart beats fast as he claims my lips with his again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Brody

  “You know what, Coach Owens? I think it’s cool that you’re dating Ethan’s mum, maybe then he’ll actually get some game time.”

  I glance in the rear-view mirror in time to see Ethan punch Hunter in the arm and reply, “Better get your mum to date the assistant coach or something or you’ll be keeping the bench warm all season.”

  Hunter is a centre – probably the best the team has got.

  I shouldn’t laugh at the two of them giving each other shit, I really shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.

  They remind me of myself and my teammates when I was their age.

  “Give it a rest you two,” Morgan tells them, but I don’t miss the hint of amusement in her tone.

  They laugh, shove each other some more and then I see them take an earbud each and start bopping their heads to some song they’ve deemed worthy of listening to.

  I chuckle and look back at the road.

  “Oh to be sixteen again.”

  “I can’t say I’d be in a rush to go back to my sixteenth year,” Morgan replies with a sigh, “I had swollen ankles and a baby on the way.”

  “Sorry, Morgs, I didn’t mean—”

  She giggles. “I know, slick, you’re fine.”

  I swear sometimes that my injury was to my brain and not my shoulder, because I can’t believe I just said that.

  “Thank you so much for this, Ethan hasn’t been able to sit still since you told him we were going tonight.”


  I grin, grateful for the subject change. “Honestly, it’s not a big deal, I feel like you’re giving me too much credit. I get free tickets from the team.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to be his favourite person for the next year.”

  I glance in the rear-view mirror again, but the boys are paying us no attention.

  I like the sound of being Ethan’s favourite person. Probably too much given the early stage of mine and Morgan’s relationship – if this can even be classed as a relationship yet. I want Ethan to like me, because I really like Morgan and I have a feeling that if her son hated me, I wouldn’t have a shot in hell.

  It’s a weird situation when I think about it. If I weren’t Ethan’s coach, I doubt I would have even met him yet; Morgan doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who rushes into things, certainly not regarding her child.

  “I hope this is okay,” I blurt out suddenly, “you know… we’ve only been on a couple of dates and I’m already spending time with your son… I don’t want you to feel like it’s too much too soon.”

  “You’re his coach.” She laughs lightly. “And I’m hardly going to pull him from the team – he’d kill me.”

  “You know what I mean, we can keep the two separate… I don’t have to be involved with him outside of the team if you don’t want me to.”

  She reaches over and takes my hand in hers, gently stroking the side of my palm with her fingertips. “I’m comfortable with whatever Ethan is comfortable with, slick, and I think you’re forgetting that he was the one who negotiated these terms, he didn’t just ask for tickets… he asked to go to a game with you.”

  Huh. I suppose he did.

  “He likes you, Brody, I can tell. So, if it’s not too much for you, then I’m more than okay with it.”

  I squeeze her hand. I like hanging out with Ethan, he’s a good kid. Morgan has done an amazing job with him.

  “It’s cool, Coach, stop making a big deal about nothing,” Ethan says from the back, and my eyes widen when I realise he’s been eavesdropping. “You’re the first boyfriend Mum’s had that I actually like.”