But for some reason, I feel like I’ve been thrown right back into that horrible place I was before I started working out.
And now I’ve got the added weight of having some man I didn’t want kissing me plant his lips on mine.
I felt the tip of his tongue in my mouth—ew!
Scrubbing my lips again, I jolt when a horn blasts behind me. Whoops. The light’s green. Accelerating through the intersection, I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to go home right now.
Zander will take one look at me and know something’s up.
I’ll tell him. Of course I will.
But he’ll be so pissed. Not at me. At Davis. And even though there’s something kind of sexy about his indignant rage when someone’s wronged me, I don’t know if I’m in the right frame of mind to deal with any of it right now.
I just want to crawl into a hole and feel sorry for myself.
I hate that I want to do that, but I do.
So instead of turning right down the next street, I go left and head for the park.
I need a walk.
CHAPTER 9
GRADY
“It’s mine!” Kendall wails, her cheeks still tinged pink after the makeup disaster. Shit, how much money did we literally wash down the sink this afternoon?
I can’t believe she got into Blake’s makeup again. We’ve talked to her about that. She’s not allowed in our room unless we’re in there with her, but Blake was probably distracted on her phone, and Kendall wandered upstairs unchecked.
Glancing into the back seat, I watch Nichelle’s cute little face pucker into a frown as she snatches back the doll Kendall just yanked off her.
My three-year-old lets out an ear-piercing scream and I grip the wheel, throwing a look at Blake, who is ignoring our squabbling girls and smiling at something on her phone.
Can she not hear them?
We’ve been in the car for less than half an hour, and they’re already starting up World War III. If Blake’s just gonna let them get away with it, this will be the longest car ride in the history of man.
Checking the road, I accelerate ahead to a clear spot and pull the car over before Kendall permanently damages my eardrums.
Jumping out of the driver’s seat, I pull open the back door and bark, “I will take that doll off both of you if you can’t figure this out!”
The girls both freeze, their eyes bulging at me. They always do this when I put my “scary” voice on, but sometimes it’s the only way to get their attention.
Huffing, I soften my tone and ask, “Whose doll is it?”
“It’s mine!” Kendall scowls, crossing her arms with a huff. “Mommy gave it to me.”
“Daddy, that’s not true,” Nichelle corrects her, and I’m inclined to believe my oldest. “Mommy gave it tome, and Kendall loved it so much that Mommy said she could play with it sometimes, but it’s actually my doll, and I want to play with it now. Why do I always have to share everything with her all the time?”
“You no share!” Kendall yells back. “You have everyfing!”
“I do not! You’re the one with two dolls in your seat. Why do you need a third?”
“I wanna play tiplets!”
“It’s triplets, not tiplets!” Nichelle’s voice starts to rise to match her little sister’s. “And can’t you just play twins instead?”
“That’s no fun!” Kendall shouts.
