The scene in the kitchen stops me in my tracks. Enrick is at the stove, flipping pancakes while all five kids sit at the massive island, decorating gingerbread houses. He’s wearing a gray Henley that stretches across his shoulders and dark jeans that... Lord have mercy.
“Mommy, come help us!” Bella waves me over. “Daddy said we could have a competition!”
“Did he now?” I slide onto a stool, trying not to notice how Enrick’s eyes track my movement. “What does the winner get?”
“Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows,” Asher informs me seriously. “The big marshmallows. Not the small ones.”
“High stakes,” I murmur, accepting the mug of coffee Enrick slides my way. Our fingers brush, and I pull back quickly. “Thanks.”
“Sleep well?” His voice is low, intimate, meant just for me.
“Like the dead,” I lie. I spent half the night replaying our conversation, the other half imagining what would have happened if I’d let him kiss me.
“Liar,” he says softly, then louder, “Okay, house decorating rules. Each team gets one adult and two or three kids. Gina and Maverick already called dibs on being judges because they have no imagination.”
“Hey!” Gina protests, entering the kitchen. “We have plenty of imagination. We just also have common sense.”
“Which means,” Enrick continues, grinning, “Dez and I each get a team.”
Oh, he’s slick. I narrow my eyes at him, but he smiles innocently.
“I want Mommy!” Bella declares.
“Me too!” Isa chimes in.
Boys versus girls?“ Penny suggests. “That means Uncle gets these two weirdos.” She gestures at fifteen-year-old Mycah and seven-year-old Asher, who are sword fighting with candy canes.
And that’s how I find myself seated directly across from Enrick, close enough that our knees keep brushing under the table, trying to focus on gingerbread architecture while he does distracting things like lick icing off his thumb.
“Mommy, you’re not paying attention,” Bella complains. “You just put the door where the window goes.”
“Sorry, B.” I refocus, but Enrick chooses that moment to lean across the table for more candy. His cologne—that expensive, spicy-smoky scent that haunted my dreams—washes over me.
“Problem, Dez?” He’s smirking, the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
I notice the chip in his bottom tooth—from a hockey accident in college. I’d traced it with my tongue that night in Atlanta.
“Not at all.” I grab the icing bag. “Girls, we’re going to destroy them. Penny, you’re on roof duty. Bella and Isa, you handle the yard decorations.”
“What are you gonna do?” Isa asks.
“I’m going to make sure we win.” I catch Enrick’s eye. “I’m very competitive.”
“I remember.” His voice drops, and suddenly I’m transported back to Atlanta, to a hotel room where we competed to see who could make the other orgasm first. I won. Barely.
“Is it hot in here?” Gina fans herself dramatically. “Mav, honey, maybe open a window?”
“There’s a blizzard,” Maverick responds dryly. “But I see your point.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I concentrate on piping icing along the roof line, but my hands are shaking. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman with a child, not some teenager with a crush.
“Uncle, you’re doing it wrong!” Asher protests. “The roof is sliding off!”
I glance over to see their house listing dramatically to one side. Enrick is staring at me instead of his construction project, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes my stomach flip.
“Are you ready to admit defeat?” I ask.
“Never.” He grins. “Kids, emergency measures. We’re going for artistic interpretation instead of structural integrity.”
