“There’s a naked man in my house,” I said out loud, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

The twins munched happily on their puffs, oblivious to my complete mental freakout. Not just any naked man, which was bad enough, but Michael.

Michael.

“Holy shit,” I whispered and slumped against the counter behind me. Suddenly, the complete mess that was me was in need of an overhaul. Because the naked man who was making me think very, very dirty thoughts in the last thirty-six hours was naked in my house.

Okay, fine. It was longer than thirty-six hours. The grip on my sanity was tenuous, at best. There was a drumbeat under my skin, pushing my heart to race it’s steady, thrumming rhythm. The twins were occupied, and the sound of the water running in the bathroom was too loud. Too real. Every time I could hear it splashing against the tub floor, like he’d sluiced it from his chest or arms or, gulp, stomach, my skin got hot.

Next thing I knew, I was sprinting to my bedroom, whipping my clothes off and searching through the piles on the floor for something a little less hot mess and bit more oh this ol’ thing? I just threw this on.

But like, not super obvious. I just didn’t want Michael looking at me with pity, wondering whether I was on the verge of cracking. Which, ironically enough, I was. Because of him. In the back of my head, I knew that I was only one thing away from snapping completely.

I slipped some clean leggings on, the ones that Julia told me made my ass look amazing, followed by the soft pink wide-necked t-shirt that always fell off my shoulders. A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat.

“What am I doing?” I asked my reflection in the large mirror I had propped up against the wall by my bed. The girl staring back at me couldn’t answer. But the color was high in her face, and the brightness in her eyes was something I hadn’t seen in a while.

Nothing. I was doing nothing. Just putting on clean clothes and making sure it didn’t look like a family of birds had taken up residence in my hair. Nothing wrong with that. Then I sniffed my armpits. Okay, and adding deodorant and some of my Satsuma lotion. Just in case.

By the time I went back into the kitchen, the twins were out of puffs, and the shower was turned off. My hand shook slightly as I unbuckled Piper from her high chair and set her down on the floor. Her hands gripped my thighs while I pulled her brother out. He yanked on the neck of my t-shirt, pulling it even wider.

“Hey, mister. Be nice. Mommy doesn’t need to flash anyone.”

A quick glance behind me to make sure Michael hadn’t chosen that moment to come out of the bathroom, and I could breathe a sigh of relief. I was still a solid hour from bedtime, so I settled the twins in their exersaucers and popped in a DVD that, apparently, was guaranteed to triple their IQ or something. At this rate, they should be speaking to me in French. I tried not to use TV as a babysitter, because it was too easy, but the pile of complete bullshit on the kitchen table was not going to make itself.

I was separating the small plastic bags and stickers for the s’mores that people could take home, and counted out the labels for the water bottles. It was official. I’d lost my damn mind. It was like Pinterest exploded all over my kitchen, and all because I wanted to prove to my mom that I was perfectly capable of throwing a kick-ass birthday for my children who would absolutely not remember it. Because they were only one.

My head dropped into my hands and I groaned. This … this was why moms went legit crazy. Why they ended up rocking in the corner by the end of every summer, because the feeling of needing to outdo your own best was so real. To have the amazing party with a cute hashtag so that all the other moms looked at your Instagram and went, oh, wow, isn’t she incredible? I wasn’t incredible. Not really. I was hanging on by a thread, and it was my own fault at the moment.

The twins would have been just as happy with a cake they could smash, and I could’ve ordered freaking Pizza Hut for the rest of the group. But no, I let Catalina Rossi sink her manicured claws into my brain, made me think I needed to have this kind of overdone party. Which is why Michael’s help was not something I was willing to turn down.

And speak of the devil. The bathroom door swung open, and ho-my-Lord-have-mercy, I could smell him. There was no dramatic cloud of steam like I expected, just the clean scent of man. Was my mouth watering? I swallowed heavily to make sure there was no obvious drool and then smiled up at him.

“You changed,” he said and pulled out a chair. His normally dark hair looked almost black since it was still wet from the shower. His skin was damp, and the white t-shirt stuck to his rounded shoulders and broad chest. I dropped a water bottle while I tried to stretch a sticker across it.

“Yeah. One of the kids spilled on my pants.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

If he doubted me, it didn’t show on his face. “So, tell me what to do, boss.”

I choked on my spit and somehow kept my face straight. Careful not to touch him, I slid my phone toward him and showed him the s’mores baggie picture. “If you could start with these, that would be great.”

His eyebrows lifted briefly. “Sure thing. Fancy.”

I couldn’t help but sigh. “I know. It’s my mom’s fault. She has this uncanny ability to make me feel like I always need to do more. Bigger. Better. And every single time, I can’t back down. It’s like I have to prove to her that I can do it.”

For as large as his hands were, he put the bags of chocolate, marshmallow and graham together with surprising ease. His face was understanding, no pity present. Thank goodness. “After meeting her that once, somehow it doesn’t surprise me.”

“Yeah. She’s a piece of work.” Begrudgingly, I had to admit, “But for all my parents’ faults, and they have many, they do love my kids. I expected them to be a bit more reserved. Every time my dad gets down on the floor and plays with them, I’m surprised all over again.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.”

“I know.” I shook my head and stared at the pile. “Which is why I find myself in this predicament. I think I could ignore her challenge more easily if they didn’t love the twins as much as they do.”

He smiled.

We worked side by side for the next hour, making occasional small talk. Every once in awhile, I’d have to stop and go do something with the twins, but by the time I needed to get them ready for bed, almost all the favors were put together. And it was nice. Out of the corner of my eye, I’d occasionally watch Michael work and marvel at the fact that a month ago, I didn’t really know him at all. He was the hot guy who flirted shamelessly with me when I was a million months pregnant and he was helping move me into this house. And now, in a short time, I couldn’t believe that he’d become someone that I could genuinely count on to be there for me.

That was the problem, given my current frame of mind.

After hefting Jacob on my hip and grabbing Piper’s hand, I gave him a smile. “I need to go put them down. Don’t feel like you have to stay if you don’t want to.”

Michael held my eyes, then smiled at the twins. “Well, I certainly can’t leave until I see my job finished. I don’t half-ass things, Rossi.”

Yeah, I’ll bet. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit down on that sucker until I tasted the coppery tang of blood. If I’d given him a no flirting rule, then I’d abide by it as well. My phone started vibrating on the table.

“Can you see who it is?” I asked him.

He slid the phone closer and shook his head. “Unknown. Shows a California number.”

“Probably a wrong number. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

Michael saluted me. “You got it. Goodnight, munchkins.”

The whole time I put the twins down, I couldn’t relax. Normally, the process was soothing, and the time we spent reading a couple books in their rocking chair loosened my muscles and made my own eyes as heavy as theirs. It was like they could feel my tension too, because they wiggled on my lap the whole time I read, twisting up to look at my face, practically ignoring their bottles of milk.

“Okay, crazies,” I said quietly. “Time to sleep. Please. Momma still has to pick up that disaster of a kitchen.”

I laid them in their cribs and kissed them goodnight, making sure the monitor was on before I flipped the bedroom light off. Piper made a small mew of discontent, but she didn’t stand up, so I let out a sigh of relief.

When I walked back into the kitchen, I was rubbing at the tight muscles in my shoulders, trying to figure out if it was just this new tension with Michael that was making me so on edge. And of course, he was standing at the sink putting away dishes, dishes that he had no part in dirtying.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said quietly.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. “I know. But the favors are done, and I don’t want you to accuse me of being a slacker if you came back in here and I was asleep on the couch.”

I laughed. “Yes, that sounds like something I would do. If anyone is going to fall asleep on that couch before nine, it’s going to be me, okay?”

His eyes dropped to where my hands still rubbed at my shoulders. “Tense?”

Ha. Haha, ohhhh, if he only knew. I was only going to nod, but in that moment, honesty felt like the best route. Or as much honesty as I was capable of. “Yeah. More than usual. I can’t figure out why I feel so on edge.”

“I’ve been told I give pretty good massages,” he said with that blasted smirk on his face. I glared until he lifted his hands up and laughed. “Just kidding. Oh, while you were putting the twins down, that same number called again. No voicemail though.”

With a groan, I sank into a stool by the counter. “Probably a telemarketer. If they don’t leave a message, I don’t worry about it.”

“After eight o’clock on a Saturday night?” he asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

“I don’t know. If it was legit, wouldn’t they leave a message?”

“I guess.” Michael put the last bowl in the dishwasher and turned around, leaning against the edge of the counter and watching me. “You want me to go? You look exhausted.”

I laughed a little. “Just what every woman wants to hear.”

“You know what I mean,” he said softly, but his cheeks held the most blush I’d ever seen. Finally, I’d managed to embarrass him, even a little. “I’ve missed hanging out with you, but you’ve got a big day tomorrow. I don’t want to be the thing that makes your life more difficult.”

You know what was less difficult? When Michael was just a guy who flirted with anyone with a pulse. It was not easier when he was standing there saying intuitive things, sweet things, things that make me want to be not tired so I could lift his shirt up and smell the soap that was probably still so potent against his tightly coiled muscles.

Despite that, I didn’t want him to leave. So I told him that.

“You don’t.” I held his eyes. “Believe me, you don’t make my life more difficult.”

His smile was slow, sexy, and it made my face impossibly hot. His dimples carved such deep lines in his face that I had to look away. When I did, there was a knock on the front door.

“Oh for the love,” I mumbled under my breath and went to answer it. I could hear Michael walking behind me, and for some reason, it helped.

And when I opened the door to see a face I hadn’t seen in eighteen months, I was really glad he was standing behind me.

“Kevin,” I said weakly.

He swallowed, and I had to fight not to pass the hell out when he said, “Hi, Brooke.”

In the months since I’d seen him, his light brown hair was longer, his face a little bit thinner. I wanted to kick him in the balls. I wanted to cry. I wanted to shove him backwards and call him a coward. I wanted to show him pictures of the kids that were half of him and ask him what the fuck was the matter with him for running like he did.

But I didn’t do any of that. It was all I could do to keep breathing.

“H-How did you find my address?”

He glanced away, shuffled on his feet awkwardly and all it made me want to do was scream at him to act like a man, not a scared little boy. “Took me a little bit, but you can find almost anything on the Internet if you look hard enough.”

His voice raised goose bumps on my arms, and not the good kind. My hand reached out to grip the door, mainly so I didn’t have to worry about keeping myself standing. Then a warm hand slid up my back. Quiet comfort, a steadying presence without a single word spoken. My eyes closed briefly, relief that I wasn’t alone.

Kevin looked over my shoulder and his lips thinned. “Who’s this?”

“None of your damn business,” I said quietly. “You’ve been gone for a long time, Kevin, and you do not get to ask me any questions right now.”

He nodded slowly, eyes leaving Michael and focusing on my face again. “Okay.”

I licked my lips and took a deep breath. “Why are you here?”

Thankfully, I didn’t have to explain myself. He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and looked away. “It’s their birthday tomorrow, right? It felt … I dunno, important to meet them before that.”

My skin was cold, every inch prickling with nerves. Not because I was afraid. Kevin didn’t scare me. But I hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t seen this coming. I almost laughed. I worked so hard to control what I could in my very out-of-control life, and here was the proof of how tenuous my grip was on that control.

“They’re asleep,” I told him flatly.

“Can I,” he cleared his throat nervously, and it made me want to run over him with my car. Maybe Michael’s truck so that there was more weight behind it. “Can I just … see them maybe?”

If he made a move to walk in, I didn’t notice, because my hand was up so fast. It was shaking, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “Absolutely not.”

Michael’s hand slid up to the base of my neck and he squeezed gently. His hand was so warm and his fingers on my skin rough with callouses. All of my senses focused right there. Right on that small patch of skin. When my heart hammered and my stomach rolled, I took another deep breath and focused on his grip along my spine.

My hand dropped when I was sure Kevin wasn’t going to storm the gates or anything crazy. He’d never been crazy, but I suppose these were extenuating circumstances. I lifted my chin and held his beady little eyes. “I’ll call you in the morning and let you know when you can come meet them. But it may not be tomorrow.”

“Brooke,” he said in a low tone and made a single, small step forward. “Come on, ple—”

“It’s time for you to go,” Michael said from behind me, his voice implacable, colder than I’d ever heard it. “She said she’d call you tomorrow.”

This time my goose bumps were good. Really, really good. My scalp tightened from the overwhelming relief I felt at his solid presence behind me and the way Kevin took another step back. Believe me, I was all for girl power. But in that moment, having Michael there with me made me feel stronger, better.

Kevin nodded and stepped off the porch.

“I need your phone number,” I told him in a flat voice, and he stopped.

“I umm, I called you earlier,” he answered. “It should be on your missed calls. It’s a California number.”

I laughed under my breath, but it was clear by his face that he knew I wasn’t amused in the slightest. I nodded and he gave me a small, unreadable look before turning and walking to a nondescript sedan parked by the curb. Michael was still holding onto the back of my neck while Kevin drove away.

Michael dropped his hand and I closed the door with a quiet click. For a few seconds, I stared at it before turning and leaning against it. His eyes searched my face, and when I didn’t immediately burst into to tears, he looked very relieved.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

My heart was pounding so hard, I’m sure my shirt was trembling from the sheer force. I nodded. “Why did you wait so long to say anything?”

Michael’s eyebrows popped up briefly. “Because you were perfectly capable of fighting that battle without me.” He took a step closer and didn’t hesitate before running his hands up my arms and cupping my shoulders. “But he was not going to get in this house if you didn’t want him here.”

My breasts felt heavy and my breathing deepened. I closed my eyes for a second to make sure I knew exactly what I was doing. His fingers tightened around me and I looked at him again.

“Good answer,” I whispered.

“Is it?” he whispered back, his eyes dropping to my mouth.

I nodded slowly and held his eyes when they came back to mine. If I was capable of rational conversation, maybe I would have told him that I didn’t want him to step in and take care of Kevin for me, but having him at my back was good. Knowing he had an invisible line in his head that Kevin wasn’t allowed to cross was also good. All those … good thoughts must have read over my face, because he licked along his bottom lip, but still didn’t move.

In the back of my head, I thought Michael would … I don’t know, pounce. Devour. Inhale. But he held back, the motion of his fingers on my skin changing slightly to something that was clearly not meant to comfort. Because those calloused, rough fingers traced up the edge of my neck, brushed against the edge of my collarbone. No, I wasn’t comforted. Under the surface of my skin, I was hot and twitchy, sensitive beyond what I could handle if he kept teasing me, testing me.

“Please,” I heard myself say, and my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Someone frayed at the edges, someone desperate. Maybe I was. This wasn’t about Kevin, he was just the catalyst for what I’d wanted for days. Weeks, really.

Michael leaned in and brushed his nose against mine, and all I would have had to do was tilt my chin up. But I didn’t. The delicious push and pull, the way it flipped my stomach, was something I hadn’t felt in years. I was practically delirious from the headiness of what was flooding my muscles, sliding through my veins hot and thick.

“Tell me,” he said against my temple, his lips moving along my skin. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.”

I intended to. Oh, I did. I was going to stretch this moment out until one of us--preferably him--snapped, shoved us over the edge on which we were teetering. But then his facial hair dragged deliciously over the side of my cheek, rough and coarse against my skin.

Snap.

Leaning my head against the door so I could meet his gaze straight-on, I wrapped my fists in the neck of his t-shirt and gave my chin that little tilt we both needed. The first kiss was a taste, a simple fit of my lips against his.

Then, oh hell yes, it was on.

Michael groaned into my mouth when our tongues tangled. My arms wrapped around his neck as I pushed up on my tiptoes, his arms around my waist as he leaned fully against me. We fit. We fit perfectly, I thought.

There was no urgency in how he moved against me, no rush in the way his hips rocked against me, in the way he tilted his head and sucked my tongue into his mouth. It was all slow and perfect, the kind of exquisite build that led to exactly the explosive release we both needed. Oh, oh yes, I liked that. My fingernails dug into his scalp in answer, and oh yes, he liked that. I knew because his arms tightened even further around me, his weight pressed more fully against where I was plastered against the hard surface of the door.

Because I couldn’t go any farther without feeling the ripple of his muscles against my hands, I shoved my hands under the front of his shirt, whimpered at how his skin felt beneath my fingertips. Like the showoff he was, he flexed his stomach, and I laughed against his mouth. It was either laugh or moan like the shameless little hussy I was because lawdy, I wanted to moan. I wanted a lot of things that I hadn’t wanted in a really long time, things I hadn’t let myself want.

But I wanted them. With Michael.

His lips spread in a shameless smile that made every muscle in my body tighten in anticipation.

“Michael,” I said when he started kissing along the edge of my jaw.

“Hmm?”

I licked my lips and tried to keep my voice steady, but it was highly impossible when his teeth nipped my skin. “I’m about to break that no shirt rule. And so are you. We’re going to break it so hard.”

He lifted his head and smiled. “Yeah, we are.”