What?!Wait—what the hell just happened?
I snap back into Dad Mode, throwing the cousins a stern glance. “But that means no dessert tomorrow,” I say, sounding as lame as I feel. It’s too late for tough love. The boys already know they’ve won this round.
Maybe Cynthia’s right to be worried. I’m already screwing this up.
Smirking their little faces off, the two little rugrats both dive into their sugar sticks. They eat voraciously, like they’re scared I might change my mind again.
The boys are finishing up their popsicles just as my mom appears in the kitchen.
“Oh my. Look at these sticky hands,” she says, immediately grabbing some paper towels and dampening them in the kitchen sink. Mom then turns to me. “I’m going to take the boys to get cleaned up and tucked into bed, if that’s okay?”
Alba is currently getting her realtor business off the ground and she recently helped me find the perfect home for my son and me on the other side of town. But with the party happening tonight, the boys are having a sleepover here. They couldn’t be more excited about it.
“That’d be great,” I say to my mother. “Please make sure they brush their teeth extra thoroughly.” I make a point to shoot the kids my best I-mean-business stare.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Jules. She looks amused by the whole scene, barely holding back a snicker.That damn troublemaking woman.
I sigh, returning my attention to my mother. “Thanks, Mom. Appreciate you helping with these punks.”
She just chuckles as she gives Jules’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
Thanks to Alba, the two of them became friends over the summer. Now, every other sentence out of my mother’s mouth is, ‘Jules this’ or ‘Jules that’. It gets on my damn nerves.
“Good night, you guys,” Jules calls out as my mother ushers the kids toward the hallway.
“Bye, Jules-s-s-s!!” the boys yell.
Cameron stops to give me a big, sticky hug before chasing after his cousin and grandmother up the stairs.
The moment the boys disappear, I realize my mistake. I’m now left alone with Jules in my brother’s kitchen. I’m left alone with a smoking hot woman who hates my guts.
I don’t even know what I did to be on her shit list. But that’s just fine, because I hate her, too.
“And you—” I say, turning to eyeball her down. “Seriously. Shouldn’t you know better than to get conned by a couple of eight-year-olds?”
She puts her hands in the air, palms up. “What do I know about kids? Besides, there’s a crowd of adults out back, chugging jugs of liquor. How bad can a second popsicle be?"
I want to argue, but dammit, she’s got a point.
She strolls away to peruse the array of snacks laid out on the marble countertop, leaving me to stare at her backside again.
Fuck.
My eyes scan the length of her body, staring without my permission. It’s hard not to, when she’s wearing that tight, practically see-through T-shirt and those even tighter denim jeans. I’m dumbfounded as to how she even got into those jeans.
One of life’s mysteries, I decide.
I cut my eyes at her, sparing her one last look before turning to grab a cold ginger ale from the fridge. Not nearly strong enough, but for now, it’ll do.
My mind rewinds back to when Jules sent me a match request through a dating app out of the blue a few months ago. I never responded. Obviously. I’m sure she sent it just to get under my skin.
But I’ve lost count of how many nights I’ve thought about her with my hand firmly wrapped around my dick. Every time I get off to my thoughts of Jules and her banging body under those daring skintight clothes, I hate myself a little bit more.
I’m too old for this shit. I definitely should know better.
Drink in hand, I spin around to find her leaned against the counter, glaring at me.
I lean against the closed refrigerator door and glare right back at her.
