Chapter Fourteen

 

Jayda blinked at me. “Well, you’re an idiot.”

I groaned and wrapped my hands around the coffee cup. “I know that. I told you that like five times.”

She leaned back against my kitchen counter, picking up her own mug. “I can’t believe I’m here at seven a.m. in my pajamas because you can’t keep your mouth to yourself.”

I dropped my head so my chin touched my chest and closed my eyes. “I didn’t kiss him deliberately.”

“No, no. I’m sure you slipped on a banana peel and your mouth landed on his.”

“He kissed me.”

“That makes the world of difference.”

“I know it does. Thank you.”

She stared at me. “Kali…That’s called sarcasm.”

“I know.” I propped my chin up on my hand. “I’m pretending it wasn’t so I feel better about my monumental fuck up.”

Jayda pushed off the counter and joined me at the table. “Is it really that bad? So, you kissed the guy. He’s handsome, he’s single—you’re single. Who are you hurting?”

“Well, nobody, but—”

“Suck it up, buttercup. If you don’t want it to be awkward, put your mouth back in its cage.”

“It’s the number one rule,” I said before she could carry on with her speech that would ultimately end with telling me to pull up my big girl panties. “Don’t mix business with kissing.”

“You’re not very good at following the rules.”

“No shit. Sherlock better watch out, or your ability to state the obvious is going to put him out of a job.”

She waved her hand. “Cumberbatch will take one look at me and not mind at all.”

I rolled my eyes. “Still, the point remains. Don’t get involved with clients. It always ends in disaster.”

“Um, didn’t your dad meet Portia on a job?”

I paused.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “But they didn’t get involved until after he was done.” Another pause. “I’m pretty sure.”

“You believe that if it makes you feel better, honey.”

“Don’t honey me. The only person who does that is my mom and she’s not a sarcastic bitch like you.”

Jayda grinned, her make-up free eyes crinkling at the edges. “Your compliment is heard and accepted.”

I flipped her the bird. “What am I supposed to do now? I have to show up today and start painting and he’s going to be there. What am I supposed to say to him?”

She tapped a blood-red nail against the table. “I’d start with good morning.”

Oh my god. She was so fucking sarcastic. I was going to pin her down and force some genuine shit out of her soon.

“Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil. I hadn’t thought of that,” I said dryly. “But after that? “Sorry I let you kiss me last night? It won’t happen again? How dare you kiss me you bastard?””

She toyed with a lock of her hair. “In the interest of keeping this job, nix the last idea.”

“At least you finally answered sensibly.”

She rolled her eyes, planted her forearms on the table, and leaned forward. “Kali. You kissed him. So what? You’d done him a favor, he thanked you with pizza, and you both got carried away. It’s never going to happen again because you’re too professional for that. You weren’t working when you kissed, so you didn’t break the rules, technically speaking.”

“I like how you’ve laid that out.”

“You’re welcome.” She nodded with a solemn look on her face. “Now, you get over it. Show up like nothing happened and do your job. If he’s at work, problem solved. If not, he has kids to look after and will leave you alone.”

Yeah, no. She didn’t know Ellie and Eli.

“Just deal with it. You’re both adults, you’re unattached, and you’re free to kiss whoever you like in your personal time. End of freak out.”

That was easy for her to say.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it go. “All right. What you’re saying is, show up, act like it didn’t happen, and pray like fuck he’s working in the office today.”

She was silent for a moment. Then, she pursed her lips and nodded. “That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“Ugh.”

“Hey, it could be worse,” she said, swiping the screen on her phone to unlock it. “Check this message I got from a wannabe Casanova last night.”

I slid her phone toward me and swiveled it so I could read. ““Hey, saw your profile. You’re hot,”” I read. ““Wanna have dinner? Don’t wear underwear, you won’t need them where we’re going.”” I finished in a slower tone. “He wanted you to go commando on a date?

“Right.” She took her phone back. “When I messaged him back—”

“Why did you do that?”

“Curiosity. Why didn’t I need underwear? Were we seeing a gyno? That’s the only reason I think underwear is useless,” she said. “Duh. So, I message him back, and he tells me he has a leather sofa perfect for fucking on.”

I frowned. “He wanted you panty-less on his leather sofa?”

“Basically.”

“Doesn’t he know our vaginas clean themselves? There’s nothing remotely comfortable about not wearing panties. And you sure as hell don’t need to be panty-less on a leather sofa. Nobody wants to clean that up.”

Jayda made a gun with her thumb and two fingers and pointed it at me. “Boom. There’s my reply. Thanks.”

I blinked. “He’s not going to date you after you say that.”

“Oh, I know. That’s a good thing. But, hey—at least you’re not freaking out about Hot Dad anymore.”

Famous last words.

 

***

 

Oh my god, I was going to be sick.

I was a dreadful adult. I was a terrible businesswoman, a dreadful adult, and an inconsiderate human being.

All right, no, I wasn’t. But I felt like it.

I was definitely going to be sick, though.

No doubt about it.

That was dramatic. And untrue. Oh my god, what was wrong with me? Jayda was right. We were adults who kissed. I was there today to do a job and I had to do that.

I wish doing things were as easy as saying them.

Then again, if that happened, I would have given up Twizzlers years ago.

I pulled up next to Brantley’s car on the drive. The fact the car was there wasn’t even remotely reassuring to my hope that he’d be at the office again today.

Mind you, him going to the office had led to the kiss…

Man, I was between a rock and a hard place. And the only hard place I liked being up against was a penis.

I took a deep breath and got out of the car. I wore my usual uniform of denim shorts, a white tank, and a plaid shirt. I had to own more plaid shirts than the guys in Outlander did kilts, but I liked them. For work, that was.

I remembered to grab Brantley’s shirt—that I’d washed and dried overnight—from the passenger seat. Folding it up smaller, I held it against my stomach as I locked the truck and headed toward the front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in, Kali!” Brantley shouted from somewhere inside.

I stared at the door handle like it wanted to eat me.

The door swung open of its own accord.

And, standing there, in front of me, was Eli. Wearing nothing but striped underwear, rain boots, and a superhero cape. A red mask the exact color of the cape covered his eyes.

I blinked at him.

“Kawi!” he said enthusiastically. “Come in!”

“Um, thank you?” I stepped inside. “Nice…outfit?”

He beamed at me like I’d paid him the greatest compliment ever. Then, he pulled some ninja-moves, slicing his arms through the air before he lifted his leg and kicked the door shut. “Kachow! I’m Ninja-Man!”

“Eli!” Brantley groaned. “What have I told you about kicking doors shut?”

Eli sped into the front room and held his hands before him in a ready-to-attack position. “Ninja-Man doesn’t have rules! Zoom! Zoom! Zoom!” He ran around the room in circles.

Ellie sat in the armchair, wearing a glittery tutu and a crown. Satiny-looking gloves covered her hands and arms up to her elbows, and both wrists and several fingers were adorned with plastic jewelry.

Ah.

They were playing dress-up.

Why Eli was wearing underwear and rain boots was something I was interested in, though.

“Hi.” Brantley shot me a weary and awkward smile.

“Hi. Should I ask?”

“As a rule…no.”

“Hi, Kawi! I’m a pwincess! You has to curt-saw to me.”

Brantley clapped his hand against his forehead. “Curtsey, Ellie. See, not saw.”

She frowned and looked at him. “Curt-sawing is more fun. Look see.” She jumped up and bent her knees, then rocked side to side. “See? That’s a curt-saw.”

I blinked at her.

She had a point.

Brantley clearly felt similarly to me. “Awesome. Would Her Highness enjoy a fruit snack?”

“A candy snack,” Ellie countered.

“Zoom, zoom, zoom!” Eli held his arms out wide, gripping his cape, and ran right between where Ellie was standing and Brantley was kneeling on the floor.

Brantley eyed him. “Someone already found the candy, so it’s fruit or nothing, I’m afraid.”

Ahh.

That made so much more sense.

“All right. Well, then. I’m going to head on upstairs and get started.” I cocked my thumb over my shoulder in the general direction of the stairs. “I’ll leave you to…this.”

Brantley coughed to cover a laugh and shot me a thumb up. “Thanks. Your support is noted.”

I shrugged, smirked, and disappeared upstairs.

Thank god for that.

There was only so much I could take of looking him in the eye. Especially when he was particularly exasperated with the twins—and there was no way he wasn’t given Ellie’s curt-saws and Eli’s apparently intense sugar high.

Hell, I could still hear him zoom-zooming around the room and Brantley asking him to “Please stop zooming for a moment.”

I had a little chuckle at that. He was a different person when he was over their games—funny yet serious, and totally adorable in his frustration.

Shit.

Wait.

No.

Abort that line of thinking, Kali. That’s not going to lead anywhere. Nowhere good, anyway.

I retrieved my brushes, roller, and tray from the bathtub and went into Ellie’s room. The paint was, obviously, completely dry, but not as even as I’d have liked. The walls had been in such bad condition from bad papering and peeling paper that it was going to take more effort than I’d planned to paint it properly.

Still, I got started.

My tools and things were in a pile in the middle of the room. I opened my toolbox and pulled out a flat screwdriver to open the can of paint. I slipped it beneath the lid and pushed down, popping it open.

The bubblegum-pink was almost painful to look out, even for someone like me who liked pink, but I poured it into the tray and grabbed a roller.

I glanced at the door. There was some kind of a ruckus downstairs about who was better, princesses or superheroes.

Hmm.

That sounded like it was only a matter of time before a princess infiltrated my work.

Roller firmly in hand, I crossed the room and shut the door. Then shifted my toolbox in front of it.

There—it was now child and Brantley-proof.

Hopefully.

 

***

 

Knock, knock.

“Kawi?”

I rolled paint onto the wall.

“Kaaaawwwwiiiii?”

I gritted my teeth.

More knocks.

Quicker, endless knocks that went on until I felt like my brain was ready to explode.

“Yes?” I called. “I’m busy, Ellie.”

“I wanna see my woom.”

“It’s not done.” It had been two hours. I haven’t even done the two biggest walls yet.

“Pwease.”

Judging by the muffled huff and bang against the door, she’d slumped against it.

“Where’s your dad?”

“Making me a chocwat sammich,” she replied. “I wanna see.”

“You should go check on lunch,” I replied.

“I’m a pwincess, you know. You had to do what I say.”

Last time I checked, this was a republic, but whatever…

I set the roller in the tray, pushed my tools to the side, and opened the door.

She stood there, pouting for all it was worth, arms folded across her chest. Her tutu stuck out almost at a ninety-degree angle, and she had now adopted some plastic, backless, dress-up shoes that, in the color blue, were at odds with her pink outfit.

“Ellie,” I said softly. “I have to get my work done, okay?”

“Painting isn’t wort. It’s fun.”

“If you’re four.” I tapped her nose. “But painting rooms is part of my job. So, it’s work. Can you let me do it?”

She leaned to the side, her tiny hand gripping the doorframe. “Okay, but I don’t wanna.” She pouted and stalked off, sulking.

I dropped my head. I felt guilty, but there was no way I could have her in here. Turning back to my roller, I coated it in paint, and picked it up.

“Ellie,” I heard myself say. “Come here.”

Damn it, self.

She appeared as if by magic, a huge, hopeful grin stretched across her face. “Yeah?”

I sighed. “You can stay, but you sit quietly, and you must put on some proper clothes.”

Frowning, she stared down at herself. “Oh.”

She looked so sad, I was pretty sure she was going to change her mind about wanting to be in here with me.

“Okay,” she said after a moment of silence. “I get changed.”

I blinked, watching her as she disappeared.

A glob of paint fell off the end of my roller and hit my bare foot.

And that was reason number one why I didn’t want Ellie in the room.

I couldn’t focus for the life of me.

Another sigh escaped my lips as I turned and wiped it off my foot with my fingers. I awkwardly flicked it back into the tray, before wiping my fingers on my thigh awkwardly.

I could have gone to wash my hands in the sink, but…Actually, I had no reason for why I didn’t. Other than the risk of Ellie being in this room, alone, with paint, I was just being lazy.

“Hey—did you say Ellie could come up here with you?”

I squealed, dropping the roller. It landed smack on top of both of my feet before flipping onto the floor and coating the old wood in the teeth-gratingly sweet pink paint.

“Shit!” I turned. “Oh, crap! Is she up here?”

Brantley surveyed my feet, then the floor, then ran his eyes up my body. They lingered a little on my thighs, and I was going to believe it was because of the random pink stripes on them.

I mean, it probably was. Why was I even thinking that it wouldn’t be?

His lips pulled to one side. “No, she’s not up here. You’re all good.”

“Thank God.” I bent over and put the roller back in its tray so it could think about the mess it’d made of my feet—twice. “Yes, I did say she could come up here with me. I swear she has some freaky voodoo that sends me on a guilt trip every time she doesn’t get what she wants.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. That’s something they should really mention before you have kids. That you’ll spend the rest of your life feeling guilty for anything from, “No, you can’t have a puppy,” to “You cannot eat the moldy cookie you hid behind the sofa six months ago.””

“Why would you feel guilty about that?”

“The eyes. They get you every time. Which is why they’re not allowed a puppy. I can’t have three people to guilt me into stuff.”

“The puppy would probably eat the cookie, though. It’d solve that problem.”

“There is that,” he agreed.

We shared a smile.

It was a little too intimate.

I coughed and broke the eye contact, getting my roller once again.

“Do you want a towel, or…” He paused, and I peered over at him. “The paint. It’s, um… You’re covered in it.”

I glanced at my feet and my legs. “It happens. Today more than usual.”

“You know you don’t have to have Ellie up here, don’t you? You can tell her no. I’ll even tell her no and take the guilt-trip for you.”

I laughed and started painting again. “It’s fine. She’ll probably get bored of watching me and disappear without me knowing it.”

He met my eyes and held my gaze for a long, hard second. “Your optimism. It kills me.” Then, he turned and left.

“What does that mean?” I shouted over my shoulder.

His answer? A barking laugh that made me shiver.

At least I wasn’t too awkward in that conversation. That was a win.