“Okay.” He was going to dream about the way her plump lips turned up at the corner. He changed quickly, then joined Addison at her little aqua blue coloring table. It took her an hour to finish the puzzle, but Rafe liked to think he offered just the right amount of guidance.
Their relatively easy morning melted down into one hell of an afternoon. Sloan tried to save Rafe.
“Sunday is also wash day,” she explained after she instructed the girls to go get ready for their bath. “I wash and detangle their hair, and they both do their level best to murder me. I will never ask you to participate in this process.”
“You sure? Two sets of hands are better than one.” Rafe wasn’t a pro, but he’d been an amateur stylist since he could convince Hope to sit still.
“I’m sure, and this should be your day off. I used to do it while Tess was out so she wouldn’t witness three mental breakdowns and note my utter failure as a parent.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Oh, you just wait. No matter how bad the screams get, don’t call the cops.”
That made him laugh. “I won’t.”
“Okay.” Sloan stood and pretended to crack her neck. Rafe tried not to notice the way her tits jiggled in that top. “I’m going in. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.”
“Oh, we order in on wash day. Always. I wrestle two small children. Or I cook. My sanity can’t handle both. And it’s your day off, so you’re not cooking either.”
“If only Postmates could send someone to wash their hair.”
“Now you’re on to something.” She shot him the winky gun finger then headed upstairs.
Three hours and two temper tantrums later, Rafe had to admit that Sloan had been completely right. Addison and Avery hated having their hair washed and they wanted the whole neighborhood to know it. He tried to sit by and ignore the commotion, but a naked six-year-old came streaking down the stairs with shampoo in her eyes and hid in the pantry. Before Rafe could even process what happened, Sloan calmly came downstairs with a towel.
“Which way did she go?”
“Pantry.”
There was a one-sided argument about what constitutes child abuse, but in the end the mad streaker, who turned out to be Addison, could be convinced that letting her mom wash the soap out of her eyes was better than auditioning forNaked and Afraidin the kitchen.
After parts one through three of the process were complete, Sloan caved and let Rafe braid Addison’s hair. It didn’t look as good as the style she executed on Avery’s hair, but Addison took the opportunity to let them all know that at least Rafe didn’t try to rip all her hair out of her head. Sloan handled the slight with a roll of her eyes, but he knew it hurt a bit.
By the time bedtime rolled around, all warring sides had waved their white flags, the girls were exhausted and they decided they loved Sloan again enough to let her put them to bed. Rafe had to commend Sloan. Four kids were a handful, but there was an advantage to having a spread in ages. Twins were something else. Twins as smart at Addison and Avery were a force of nature. Rafe definitely had his work cut out for him.
Rafe said his goodnights and then joined Sloan down in the kitchen. She handed over their library card, showed him where she kept the family tablet and gave him the password, laid out the clear rules for its use and the penalties for not following the tablet rules. Rafe readjusted the alerts on his phone to help him keep the girls on somewhat of a schedule. She gave him a rough outline for her week at the medical center and said she’d keep in touch if things changed. Rafe was fine was that. The cleaning crew came on Tuesdays. The landscaping crew and the man who cleaned the pool came on Thursdays. She’d send him reminders for that too.
“Any questions?”
“Any restriction on music?”
“I can’t stand that Kidz Bop shit. They love Duke Stone, Beyonce, Ariana Grande, Little Mix. General, upbeat pop and R&B and you’re good. There’s this one K-pop song they cannot get enough of. Trust me, they will play it for you. I actually have a car playlist for them. I’ll airdrop it to your phone.”
“Okay.”
“Anything else?” Rafe was sure that if he thought a bit longer he’d come up with something, but Sloan looked pretty fucking done with the day.
“Nah. I think we’re good for now. Let’s call it a night.”
“Just what I wanted to hear. Now—” she clasped her hands in front of her chest. She’d changed into a different pair of yoga pants and a looser tee shirt after the battle royale, but her body still looked just as amazing. “I’m going to have, like, half a glass of wine and watch this horrible British dating show I’m obsessed with. You’re welcome to join me.”
“I think I’m going to hit the showers myself, actually. But I’ll catch you in the morning before you leave.”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight.”
