So weird.

This is going to be so fucking weird, but I don’t have a choice. I just need to forget that I memorized the exact sweet, salty flavor of Laura’s skin, and the way she moves when she’s pinned to the sheets beneath me, and the sexy sounds she makes when she’s about to come on my fingers.

Or my mouth.

Or my cock, with her long legs wrapped around my waist and her fingers digging into my shoulders and her body so hot and tight it feels like I’ve died and gone to heaven.

I swallow hard, gritting my teeth as I turn onto her street.

Hell. I’m going to be in hell, and it’s my own damned fault. I should never have slept with Laura in the first place. I’m a grown man, for God’s sake. I know better than to start something with someone I work with, someone I’ll be forced to run into every day when things don’t work out.

Like you gave it a chance to work out.

You thought you were being so smart, heading heartache off at the pass. But all you did was screw yourself and ensure Laura thinks you’re a jackass.

I curse beneath my breath, and Chloe pipes up from the backseat, “I heard that! You have to put a dollar in the swear jar when we get home.”

I’m tempted to curse again—if this isn’t a morning for swearing like a damned sailor, I don’t know what is—but instead, I offer a terse, “Got it. Sorry, honey,” and reach over to turn up the radio.

I’m never going to convince my seven-year-old to stop pushing her swearing boundaries if I can’t get control of my own mouth. And the last thing I need is for Chloe to start exercising her locker room vocabulary in front of Angie and Steve. I need to prove that I’m a fit parent with my shit together, not further the impression that I’m getting by on a wing and prayer and more help from my friends than any thirty-two-year-old man with six figures in his savings account should need.

But money can’t buy everything, and lately that’s included reliable childcare.

Portland is experiencing a serious nanny and babysitter shortage. If Justin and Laura hadn’t stepped in to help me out half a dozen times each, I don’t know what I would have done. In Justin’s case, I don’t feel too bad—I’ve done my share of favors for Jus in the years we’ve been friends—but with Laura…

Well, with Laura I feel like a bastard.

A seriously shitty excuse for a human being who made love to her like it was my mission on Earth for three days, told her I wasn’t interested in feelings because I needed stability for my daughter, and then proceeded to take advantage of her generosity and hit her up for childcare assistance in my time of need. And now I’ve put her in an even worse spot with the fake-girlfriend shit, when all of this could have been avoided if I hadn’t been so damned convinced that she was secretly in love with my best friend.

In my defense, Justin and Laura have one of those weirdly close friendships that look a lot like repressed attraction. They party all summer on his boat, have movie nights every other week, laugh way too loud when they’re together, and hug good-bye with an intensity that makes it clear that they love each other.

But they don’t love each other in that way.

Justin loves Laura’s little sister, Libby, in that way, and Laura seems genuinely happy that Jus and Libby have found something special together.

Which means I’m an idiot.

I’m a fool who botched my shot at being the man in Laura’s bed because I was so certain I was a distraction, a placeholder, something to settle for until she and Jus found their way through friendship to something more. Because I woke up that last morning in Cannon Beach with her lying next to me, looking so beautiful it was painful to lay eyes on her, and decided I would rather have nothing than be second best.

By the time I realized how wrong I was, it was too late. I’d already hurt Laura’s feelings, wounded her pride, and wrecked any chance I might have had with her. Since that weekend, every time we’re together, Laura’s walls go up so fast it gives me whiplash. The only time I see the soft, silly, vulnerable woman I held hands with on the beach is when she’s with Chloe.

Laura clearly adores my daughter. And Chloe adores her. And fuck if that doesn’t shove the knife deeper every time I see Chloe hug Laura good-bye.

Now, as I pull onto Sherman Street, spotting the willowy redhead in a white sweater, and jeans that hug her phenomenal ass waiting for me at the end of her driveway with a determined but distant smile fixed on her face, it’s all I can do not to keep driving. I don’t want an awkward weekend with fake kisses and a line of pillows stacked between us to make sure I stay on my side of the bed. I want the chance I screwed up last summer.

But I should know by now that what I want doesn’t matter.

“Laura!” The moment I shut off the car, Chloe erupts from the backseat, lunging at Laura and hugging her tight. “Ride in the backseat with me! I brought car trip bingo! We can play the whole way there!”

“Sounds awesome,” Laura says, the warmth in her eyes cooling as her gaze shifts my way. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I slam the door closed and motion to the large suitcase and smaller travel bag at the end of the driveway. “This all your gear?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Once you introduced skiing into the mix, the packing situation got out of hand.”

“No worries. We’ve got plenty of room.” I pop open the back of the Land Cruiser and slide Laura’s luggage in beside Chloe’s. By the time I’m done, Laura has buckled Chloe into her car seat and is circling around the front of the SUV to the passenger’s side.

“You don’t mind if I ride in back, do you?” she asks as I move to meet her. “You and I will have plenty of forced togetherness once we get to your in-laws’ house.”

“Right.” My throat goes tight as I scan her face, looking for a weakness in her defenses, but not finding a single crack. In fact, she looks even less thrilled to see me than usual.

Steve and Angie might not notice her standoffishness, at least not right away, but I certainly do, and with every passing second, I’m growing less certain that we’ll be able to pull this off.

This isn’t the woman I kissed on the beach. This isn’t the woman I tucked under my arm as I fell asleep, or woke with a trail of kisses up the sweet, soft skin of her inner thigh. This woman practically radiates “Don’t Even Think About Touching Me, Creep” vibes. I can’t imagine that kissing her is going to feel anything but forced and awkward, and that’s not going to slip by a former sex ed teacher unnoticed.

“You okay?” Laura arches a brow, hesitating beside the door.

“No, I’m not.” My fingers cover hers, stopping her before she can pull the handle. “I need to know something before we leave.”

“Okay,” she says, with a frown. “Are you sure you’re—”

Her words end in a hum of surprise as I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her against me as my mouth finds hers.

And for a moment, it’s as awkward as I feared it would be. Her lips are stiff, and she’s gone so rigid it feels like I’m wrapping my arms around one of the statues at the botanical gardens. But when my tongue sweeps out to tease the seam of her mouth, she softens. Her lips part and she melts against me, her arms going around my neck as I stroke deep into her mouth, tasting mint toothpaste and the darker, sweeter taste of Laura.

She tastes like secrets whispered beneath the covers, and spices I don’t know the names for, and places I’ve never been but really, really want to visit. She makes me ache in a way I didn’t think I would ever ache again, and all I want to do is carry her into the house, up to her bedroom, and make love to her until all her walls come tumbling down.

But my daughter is here, in the backseat, a fact I’m reminded of when a sharp knock on the window makes Laura jump, and her teeth knock lightly against mine.

“Ouch.” She laughs and tries to step away, but I tighten the arm encircling her waist, keeping her warm, curvy body close to mine.

A moment later, Chloe shoves open the door and sticks her head into the cool winter air. “Hey!” Her wide eyes flick from me to Laura and back again. “Since when did you two start kissing?”

“Since this summer.” I mix truth in with the lie, in case Steve and Angie start asking Chloe questions when I’m not around. Better that they think Laura and I have been together for a while and this relationship isn’t a flash in the pan.

“Oh.” Chloe’s gaze narrows, but after a second she nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Laura asks, blinking. “That’s it?”

“I mean, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Chloe says with a grin. “But I know about boyfriends and girlfriends. Seraphina has a boyfriend. He gives her his dessert at lunch.”

“I would give Laura my dessert,” I say. “Any time she asked for it.”

Laura clears her throat as she pats my chest. “That’s okay. You can keep your dessert. We’ve got donuts, and I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of pie around this weekend. But shouldn’t we get going? Didn’t you say it’s around a two-hour drive?”

I nod. “Yeah. We should get going. Buckle up, Chloe.”

“Okay, but Laura’s still riding in back with me, Dad. I called her first.”

“Noted.” I smile, Laura’s lips curve in response, and for the first time since last summer, I spy a break in the fortress she’s built to keep me out.

“Hey,” I add in a softer voice as Chloe crawls back to her car seat. “Sorry to spring that on you. I just wanted to be sure we could be convincing.”

“It’s fine.” She brushes her hair over her shoulder, clearing her throat. “But you don’t have to worry. I took drama classes in college. I can fake being head-over-heels for a weekend, no problem.”

“Good,” I say. But the chilly note in her voice feels the opposite of good, and the moment she steps out of my arms and slides into the backseat feels even worse.

But then, no one ever said being a single parent was going to be easy.

That’s what I have to do—stay focused on this as something I’m doing as a parent, to keep Chloe with me where she belongs, and ignore the voice in my head that suggests it might not be too late to convince the other redhead in my life to give me another chance.