Not My Kind of Hero

by Pippa Grant

I have never, in my entire life, been the kind of guy to let loose a hubba-hubba, but that is exactly what my dick’s saying right now.

And I like it. “Mr. Jackson, has it ever occurred to you that when a woman dresses up, she’s doing it to feel good about herself, and your opinion matters for less than zero? I just divorced a man who had no respect for me or his daughter. What in the actual hell makes you think I’d try to seduce you? What makes you worthy? This?” She waves a hand at me exactly as I was waving a hand at her a moment ago. And I shrink. I shrink. She doesn’t notice, or if she does, she clearly thinks it’s not enough. “This? You? You come in a very nice package. Ooh, muscles. And floppy bedhead hair. And a beard and tattoos and a glower. So irresistible. Let me be frank, Mr. Jackson. While it was incredibly kind of you to help us with the bear and the cow and my hair, you clearly don’t like me. I’m working very hard on having enough respect for myself to only have people in my life who are willing to appreciate me too. I’m here meeting teachers and handing out cherry crisps for Junie. And that’s it.”

Flint lifts a quilted bag. “Peace offering,” he grunts. “Cyanide and local poison berries?” “Homemade meatloaf, scalloped potatoes, and green beans.” He cooks! I give up on discussing with my vagina how This is not happening and also He probably got takeout and then put it in a bag to make it look like he cooked and let her do whatever it is she’s going to do.

“You know there’s no such thing as working someone out of your system,” I whisper. He angles closer, our bodies separated by the width of a feather, and yes yes yes, I want him closer, but no no no, I’ve made a thousand excuses to my daughter about why I won’t do this no matter how much I want to. My brain is so scrambled anytime I’m near him. And as much as my heart and brain whisper Junie first, sometimes they also ask, Who do you become when you never put yourself first?

I run into everything a man can run into while I kiss her and knead her ass and carry her into the living room. I dimly register candlelight. A new sectional where Tony’s beater leather sofa used to be. A furry rug in front of the fireplace. Yes. Furry-rug sex. I want furry-rug sex with Maisey.

I don’t know if I’m breathing. I don’t know if I’m still alive. All I know is that if there’s meaning to life, it’s this. It’s Maisey, beneath me on a furry rug in front of a fireplace, her breath coming in sweet little gasps while she peppers my head with kisses. This is it. This is everything. This is home. And it’s terrifying as all fuck.

“I look at you, and I see me.” His lids flicker open, and I lose my breath at the raw vulnerability shimmering in his beautiful hazel eyes. And yes, they’re hazel. Shimmering in golds and greens tonight. “Hurt so much by the people who are supposed to care the most. Afraid to open up to anyone again. But so desperate to fit in that you’ll bend over backward giving and giving and giving until there’s nothing left for yourself.”

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” I say. “Little bit.” His eyes flicker over my face. “But for the first time in possibly forever, I don’t feel alone in it.”

This isn’t Let’s work this out of our systems. This is I could be very serious about a relationship with you if one of us had the slightest nudge to get there. “Are we friends?” I whisper. He studies me, and I find myself holding my breath like the fate of my entire life depends on his answer. But when he finally answers, it’s everything. “I want to be more than your friend, but I know it’s complicated, and I know we have to go slow, and I know there are people in your life who need to come before me.”

“And I don’t want to hurt you. But I also don’t want to let you walk out of my door without a promise that we can do this again. Because I like you. Naked. Clothed. Tearing down barns. Cleaning out secret foot-fetish shrines. Talking. Listening. Understanding. Seeing my daughter for who she is and building her up for what she can do. I like you.”

“Sometimes figuring out who you are and who you want to be involves figuring out who to trust to go on the journey with you.”