Page 12 of Falling for My Son's Best Friend
And my eyebrows shot up. No wonder he had such an amazing body, toned, athletic, perfectly symmetrical with strong arms and thick thighs. Because he was a pro athlete. Oh my god, I’d run my hands so many times over that perfect physique last night, savoring the hard muscle, licking that broad chest a few times, nestling into the crook of his arm, gluing myself against the massive bulk. And it was because working out was part of his job, he had the best trainers, the best nutritionists on call, hours of practice each day. No wonder Trent was Adonis come to life, a god of a man. And I watched amazed as he dug into a stack of pancakes covered with syrup, a huge fluffy ball of butter melting on top. Wasn’t that bad? This stuff was unhealthy as all get-out, right, filled with evil sugar and fat. But he read my mind.
“They work us so hard that I need the calories,” he said, digging in with relish, pushing a huge forkful into his mouth. That one forkful would have been three or four bites for me. “So yeah, even if it’s not super healthy per se, I still need calories and pancakes are a way to get them.”
But then he paused, looking at me, eyes dancing over my frame.
“Why don’t you have some too?” he asked. “Here, where are the plates? Let me get you some Ms. Sands,” he said, big body in motion suddenly.
I was just about to demur when my son spoke up again.
“Naw my mom doesn’t eat stuff like this, she’s a health nut, always trying to get skinnier. Are you still doing that crazy diet Mom? The one where you drink a ton of lemon juice?”
I colored once more. I hadn’t been on the South Beach diet in years, but yeah, it’d been painful, drinking liters of lemon water with cayenne pepper in it, not a morsel of food passing my lips. So I shook my head.
“No, I’ve been off that for years now, and besides South Beach didn’t work for me,” I said with a wry smile. “I put all the weight back on and then some.”
But Trent was looking at me hard, now, a plate in his big hands, blue eyes glued to my curves.
“Naw, Ms. Sands,” he said softly, the casualness of his voice belying the intensity of his gaze. “You look great the way you are, no need for diets. In fact,” he said, heaping the plate with pancakes, “take this, eat up.”
And I blushed because I was curvy all around, in fact, he’d seen up close and personal last night just how round I was, my ass busting out to here, my breasts to there. And if I remembered correctly, he’d loved it all, burying his face between my tits, savoring the fleshiness, popping my nips into his mouth, his hands stroking my ass, between my legs the entire time, making me mewl and scream.
So I grew hot once more, face flushing, about to refuse the pancakes, but Trent was insistent.
“Like I said,” he said shortly, eyes hot on me. “Eat up, no one likes to see a woman starve herself.”
And this conversation was already so crazy, my lover lecturing me in the kitchen the morning after, my son listening in with no idea what was passing between us. Oh god, I prayed Robbie had no idea because my body was on high, electricity arcing between Trent and I, a crackling live wire, bright enough to light up the room, shock anyone who stepped into its path.
But kids are kids, and my son probably couldn’t even fathom the idea of his mom being with his buddy, someone twenty years younger. He probably thought I dated old fuddy-duddies, dudes with canes and dentures, spotted and aged, deep into their twilight years. So I shrugged a little and let out a small smile.
“Sure, I’ll have some pancakes,” I said, scooting my big butt onto a seat the counter before digging in. And Trent, blue eyes gleaming, watching approvingly as I took a heaping bite of pancake topped with a healthy dollop of syrup, a smear of butter on the side. He turned back to his own meal, forking a mouthful of crackling bacon into his mouth before swiveling around to face me once more.
“So Miz Sands,” he rumbled casually. “You been living in Sunnyside long?”
I smiled cheekily. This was more like it, normal conversation that didn’t light up the air with tension and awareness, even if it was mostly in my brain.
“Yeah, we bought this house right before Robbie was born,” I said, nodding at my son. “Robbie grew up here, it’s the only home he knows.”
My boy nodded.
“Yeah, Sunnyside’s a nice place to grow up,” he said. “Safe, good schools, I had a great time here, riding my bike to school, hanging out at the basketball court, it’s totally safe.”
And I nodded. I’d tried to do my best by him, enrolling him in Cub Scouts, taking him to music lessons, the works. But somewhere along the way, it hadn’t been enough. Doing right by my little family hadn’t been enough to make my husband stay, Rob had gotten bored of little Sunnyside and taken up with that blonde from one town over. Shit, they’d met at the bowling alley for crying out loud, we really were a tiny hamlet, there were no bars, no clubs, no nothing. Hooking up at the bowling alley, right in front of our friends and neighbors
But Trent just grinned again.
“Sounds great,” he rumbled casually. “I find quiet little towns always have a lot of history, they’re full of surprises once you look beneath the surface.”
And my breath hitched unexpectedly, brown eyes going wide. Was he talking about me, or Sunnyside? Did he think that I, an average-looking middle-aged woman, had a lot to offer behind my plain exterior, that I was exciting and full of surprises underneath? My heart started thumping like a hammer, breath coming fast although I tried to remain calm, look normal.
But the big man just grinned again, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“This has been amazing man,” he rumbled to Robbie. “You got enough to eat? I say we head to the gym.”
And my son nodded, polishing off the rest of his orange juice.
“Yeah, home cooking, especially my cooking, always hits the spot,” he grunted. “None of that frozen or freeze-dried shit. Now it’s to the gym to wipe out these calories, I want to see what they do to you in the pros man, tips and tricks for pro athletes.”
Trent nodded.