Page 16 of This Broken Heart
I study the way soft tendrils of hair have escaped her braid. Despite the shapeless overalls, it's plain to see that this woman has the classic hourglass figure. I’ve never been into buxom ladies, not like my friends are. Ana and I were together from puberty on, so my taste crystalized around her exact form.
But I have to admit, Erin’s soft curves have their own appeal. I find myself wondering what she would feel like pressed up against my hips.
My brain supplies me with a very visceral depiction and my cock stirs against my jeans. It shocks me a little. I haven’t really thought about sex for two years. Sure, I jerk off in the shower now and then, but no woman has caught my attention. No one can stack up to Ana. But Erin’s stoking old feelings to life, things I haven’t felt for a long, long time.
As though sensing I’m thinking about her, Erin turns to look at me. She yelps in surprise, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
A bright laugh spills from those soft lips. I’m picturing them wrapped around my shaft, and then I’m frowning at her.
It’s not her fault, it’s mine, but I can’t help but feel like she’s tempting me in some way.
I immediately shift my focus to Maven. Erin hands her a baby carrot.
“She can’t eat those.” I automatically say.
Maven accepts the carrot, chomping away on it.
Erin’s gaze flicks back to me. “Is she allergic?”
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t think she liked them.”
Erin shrugs. “I made salad, if you’re interested.”
I was just going to grab a frozen burrito, but Erin’s salad looks infinitely more appealing.
It’s strange seeing the kitchen being put to actual use. I pretty much stick to the microwave, occasionally using the stove to make noodles for the kids.
Ana’s mixing bowl sits by the sink, along with the frosting dye she used to make the kids’ birthday cakes. Baking was one of Ana’s things. I left all of her tools, even the flour and sugar, untouched because I didn’t have the heart to move them. But Erin pawed through it all, disturbing precious memories.
It makes me feel a little panicky.
She follows my gaze, misreading my expression. “We made a bit of a mess. I’ll clean up later when Maven’s napping.”
I scrub a hand through my hair. “Those were Ana’s things. I haven’t really touched them.”
“Oh.” She looks back at the mess, cheeks coloring.
I feel a little guilty, which then makes me feel defensive. “I would have cleaned it out, eventually.”
“Of course.”
I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Those eyes are blue. Very, very blue. They threaten to pull me in and take me under.
I don’t want to abandon Ana. It was a mistake bringing another woman into her house. She’s disturbing Ana’s memory, distracting me. She needs to go.
The sooner the better.
I’m forming the words on my tongue when there’s a giant crash by the sink.
And Maven starts wailing.
11.
Erin
Maven slips off the chair, grabbing the cutting board on her way down. Vegetables topple down on top of her, the board catching her on the side of the head. I kneel down by her, checking that she isn’t seriously injured, but then Josh is swooping in.
He bundles her up, holding her protectively to his chest. He snuggles her under his jaw, pacing anxiously, shushing her rhythmically. When she stops crying, he peers down at the goose egg forming on her forehead, before turning to me with anger in those brown eyes. “This is why I don’t let her climb on furniture.”