A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(20)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Which didn’t explain why he felt almost, well, lonely.

“I don’t know where my dad is either. Mine ran off with one of my mother’s closest friends, and everything in my parents’ joint bank account.”

Boston almost laughed. What a sad coincidence. “My dad didn’t settle for joint assets. He took an extra ten million from his employer that didn’t belong to him and fled the country with Carrie, my babysitter, who at the time was all of eighteen years old.”

He had never told that to a living soul. But for some reason, it wasn’t painful to tell Shelby. It was almost a relief to air his dirty laundry to someone who wouldn’t use it against him.

Shelby’s mouth dropped. “That’s awful! It’s hard to find a good babysitter, you know.”

Now he did laugh. “Actually, I never really liked Carrie. When she would wash my hair, she’d rub really hard with these clawlike nails. And she couldn’t push me on the swings because her jeans were too tight.”

Occasionally he’d wondered how long Carrie and his father had stayed together. He was betting not much more than a year or two.

“Why was your babysitter washing your hair? That’s a mother’s job.”

Shelby looked downright indignant. On his behalf. He felt flattered. “Not when your mother was a busy attorney who spent what little free time she had on the tennis courts.”

A definite snort came from the rocker. “Playing with fuzzy balls is more important than taking care of her child?”

Boston grinned and waited for Shelby to catch the humorous double meaning of what she’d just said. “My mom really liked playing with a wide variety of balls, especially from different manufacturers.”

It took her a good long second, but when she realized what he meant, her brown eyes went wide, her feet dropped to the floor, stopping the rocker, and her tongue slipped out to nervously wet her lips. “Oh. Oh. Well, shoot, we both come from a couple of oversexed parents, don’t we? My mom’s a pretty decent mother, but she’s a serial dater. I think it’s a self-esteem thing since my dad left her.”

Boston had often thought the same thing about his mother. She had a compulsive need to prove she was desirable to men.

“And last I heard, my dad had taken up with Sissy Blancher, who as a senior was head majorette of the Cuttersville Cougar Marching Band the same year I was a sophomore.” She shook her head, lips curved up. “That’s why I’ve never bothered to change back to my maiden name. I’d rather keep Danny’s name than my father’s.”

And while they were on the subject of Farmer Danny, Boston had a question or two about him. “So why did you and Danny split up? You certainly seem to have retained a friendship.”

If Danny’s sucking her fingers could be classified as friendship.

Shelby shot out of the rocker and started pacing back and forth again, her white gym shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor. She paused in the middle of the plum-colored rug and put her hands on her hips. A shrug followed. “No big mystery. We just figured out we were better off as friends than being married.”

That didn’t tell him a damn thing.

“Have you ever been married, Boston?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Shelby sat at the foot of the bed and frowned. “Well, you’re leaving, right? I mean, you’re here until the company says you can leave and then you’re gone, right?”

“Yes.” She had totally lost him, but that point wasn’t in dispute. He was definitely leaving the first opportunity he was given, even if that meant going somewhere other than Chicago. He’d go anywhere that had a sushi bar and a theater.

“So, if I tell you things, it doesn’t matter, does it? You won’t tell anyone, and you’re not staying.”

Now he understood. Here, trapped in the stuffy blue bedroom with a person who was virtually a stranger, it was easy to say things you wouldn’t normally imagine speaking out loud. Hadn’t he confessed about his father? “I won’t tell anyone anything you say. And truthfully, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pass along those little anecdotes about my father either. Not many people know that about me.”

“Done.” Shelby pulled a leg onto the bed, seemingly unaware that the movement drew her shorts up to her panty line.

Boston was aware. Aware and overcome with the urge to lick that spot.

“I want to have sex with you, Boston.”

His head snapped up. “What?” His c**k went fully hard, ready for action. She just needed to say go and he was there.

He sat up, reaching for her.

“But I can’t.”

He fell back onto the bed.

Damn it, that was cruel.

“And maybe you don’t even want to have sex with me, and I’ve totally humiliated myself. But since you came to town, I’ve been thinking I might enjoy that, but it’s just not a good idea. So if you were thinking about it, stop.”

And this conversation had shown such promise.

Boston sat fully up, since lying down wasn’t helping him think about anything but Shelby climbing onto his lap. “Why can’t we sleep together if we want to? We’re mature adults. We’re trapped in a room together. No one will get hurt and no one in Cuttersville needs to know.”

He certainly hadn’t planned on having an affair with Shelby Tucker, but the idea was growing on him. Quickly. It was the best possible way he could think of to pass the time in exile in Cuttersville.

Shelby watched Boston, who looked ready to pounce on her any second now. For a minute, she was worried she’d spoken too directly and that he would laugh at the notion that he could be attracted to her. But her fears had been misplaced, given the look on his face and the way his fingers twitched in her direction. If he had those paranormal powers he’d talked about earlier, she suspected her clothes would be a thing of the past.

It was her nature to be honest, which was why she’d spoken up in the first place, but now she was left trying to figure out how to explain to Boston that she was a cold fish, incapable of pleasing herself or a man. There was no way to say it without making herself sound like a freak, or without being disloyal to Danny. She wouldn’t embarrass or hurt Danny for the world.

“I have to live here. People are going to know.” Shelby played with the edge of the eyelet spread, nervously sticking her finger through one of the holes and pulling it back out again.

“Not if we’re discreet. Don’t people here date?”