“So, there’s this park,” he says, his hand still stroking, his eyes still on everything but mine, his smile full of sympathy. “It has a slide. And I mean, like, a REALLY big slide. I think it needs a queen. And…it’s been years since I’ve taken a girl on a picnic.”
His hand stops. His eyes drift to mine, and stop. As much as Beth isn’t here, she’s very much here right now. I’m both melting and terrified at once, and when I finally look into his eyes, I feel myself fall into the green layers that grow dark around the edges and are golden in the middle. I swim in them. I drown.
“Are you asking me on a date?” I bite my lower lip. Within hours, I’m going to be the porn star who threw stones at the millionaire’s daughter because she was jealous. I might as well let myself get wooed a little before everything becomes cheap and sensational.
“Yeah, Paige. Like I said earlier…I’d like to date you,” he says.
“Good, because I didn’t eat a damn thing at dinner,” I say, putting on a pushy voice. I can’t hold it, though, and I let myself laugh. There’s also a little sadness that escapes with the sound. It’s one of those desperate laughs, and Houston can tell. He sweeps me into his arms and rolls until I’m on top of him, holding my hair from my face so he can kiss me. I look for any sign of doubt in his lips, but it isn’t there. He literally. Knows. Everything. And he’s still kissing me.
“You still think I’m hot?” I tease. His hand slaps my ass hard at my question, and I squeal a little as he squeezes, his fingers mostly on bare skin where my dress has ridden up enough to leave me exposed.
“You have no fucking idea,” he says against my mouth.
“How committed are you to this picnic thing?” I tease, not really tease. His hand—it’s on my bare ass.
“I’m not committed to the picnic at all, but my mom gave me half an hour of alone time in the house, and I’m pretty sure the non-picnic thoughts I’m having are going to take a lot longer than that,” he says, pressing his forehead into mine, his eyes shut tight, his smile enormous and embarrassed.
“Okay,” I say, mine closed too. “But just so you know, that line I was holding at kissing…”
“Mmmmmmm?” he questions.
“It’s moved,” I grin, letting my eyes blink open to see his fully staring back at me now. I lean back against him, my palms pressed to his chest, and his hands grip my wrists—tightly.
“We’re home!” Joyce is using the sing-song voice, like an alarm sounding, so we know that whatever intense conversation we’re having needs to lighten up now that Leah’s here. She probably thinks we’re still talking about Cee Cee. But the longer I lie here, against him, the less I give a shit about Cee Cee and what she can do to me.
Do your worst, Cee Cee. Playground Paige is back, and she’s a little pissed you’ve made her take this dumb-ass detour through your shadow.
Chapter 14
Houston
I let Paige leave her room before me. It took me a good ten minutes to get things back…well, in place. I’d like to blame the boots and the dress, but I’ve been with a few women over the last year with boots and dresses and bodies almost as good as hers, and they’ve never made me want to do the things to them that were running through my head when Paige looked down at me.
It definitely wasn’t her boots and dress. It’s just her.
My mom is watching me scurry around the kitchen. I look like a maniac. I think I might look like an asshole too. She hasn’t directly asked what the story is—just if we had an okay talk, if Paige is okay. I want to fill her in, maybe warn her a little. I think she’d like Paige more—trust her more—if she knew just how much she despises Cee Cee. But then that’s the thing—I’m caught in that weird place where Cee Cee is who she is and can call her dad and tell him I haven’t been keeping up my end of the bargain and all he has to do is snap and Leah’s money is gone.
My mom would be fine with losing it, cutting the few strings he holds, never letting Cee Cee into our house again. But I’m not okay with my daughter not getting what’s hers.
And I don’t want to think about any of that right now because boots and dresses and Paige’s ass in my hands is all I can fucking think about!
“Where’s the damn picnic basket?” My voice comes out in a yell as I slam the last two cupboard doors closed. My mother is laughing at me. “What?”
“You. What in the world has you so wound? And why do you need the picnic basket?” she asks, finally standing from the stool where she’s been watching me for the last twenty minutes, amused. It’s almost ten at night, and Leah’s been in bed for more than an hour.