“Em…” He said her name, trying to get her to refocus on him because her eyes were darting from one side to the other. She was overthinking the whole kit and caboodle.
He got it. Really, he did. Because at first, he’d felt a solid dose of that, too. Being butt arse naked in bed with his fake girlfriend slash daughter’s best friend’s mum? Yeah, not a good place to be found.
But once everyone left, his worries had eased a fair bit.
Meanwhile, Emmaline’s went through the roof.
“Why is my dog here?” Em asked, her eyes still frantic. She gripped his shoulders and gave a little shake. “Ethan, we have to figure out why the dog’s here.”
“Em.” He shifted so his body was right against hers, hoping the reassurance of his touch might help with the total meltdown she was having.
“The dog’s here, and you’re not and, presumably,” she went on, working this out with words. He was cool with that because maybe she’d come up with a ripper solution for them.
“I’m not,” she went on. “Because I didn’t answer when they came in.” She started talking with her hands, which was sort of a hazard, given how close he was. But, hey, now her eyeballs weren’t darting around. This was a step up.
“April has it under control,” he said. April was Jack’s wife and mum to his step-kids, so she was good with finesse. “Shegetsit. If you get my meaning. She knows things happen.” He gestured between them. “Things like this.”
“Like I shirked my responsibilities to boi-i-ing you in the middle of the afternoon?”
Okay, for real, that was pretty damn cute.
“It’s not even lunch,” she wailed at this last line. “I hate Wednesdays. Nobody remembers it’s Wednesday. Nothing happens on Wednesday. Except the kids get home early.”
She was totally not herself, but her rant against Wednesday while naked in his bed was a total turn-on. Probably not her intention, so he’d stay quiet.
“What if I had accidentally cut off a toe or something?” She was actually serious.
Annndthat killed his mood. Also, he would not let her near his kitchen and the knives.
“I cut my toe because I’m me,” she went on. “You had to drive me to the ER, and the dog got left to be watched by the kitten, and now they’re reattaching my toe—a doctor, not the cat”—she held up her hands between them—“and everything’s going to be fine because I had the best care. But that’s why the dog’s here, and we forgot it’s Wednesday.”
There were times a bloke knew when to step in and times when he understood it wasn’t the go. This was a time to step in. Change tact.
“Your toe is fine,” he assured. It’d stay all good, because he liked her with all her toes. If she were going to give up a digit—fictional or otherwise—then it should be for a better reason than they forgot about early knock-off from day camp.
“I’ll just wear a bandage and limp for a few weeks?” She chewed on her bottom lip. That innocent expression while after that rant? He forced himself not to come onto her for a—how did she say?—boi-i-ing. Crush some cookies. Whatever.
No, he wouldn’t because that would be inappropriate timing. However, the next time they got naked together, he was totally going to ask her to rant about the days of the week again.
“I have a plan,” he said, hoping his assured confidence would catch her attention.
“Is it better than mine?” she asked.
Seeing as any plan was better than hers, he said, “Yeah.”
Much better than missing toes.
“Okay, shoot.” She made ac’monmotion with her hands.
“You had to go into the office to see your boss. I agreed to watch Sketch.” He nodded as he spoke.
“That’s it?” she asked.
“Yeah. That’s it.” Simple was good and required no doctor visits.
“You shirked your responsibilities?” she asked, clearly not buying it. “You weren’t in here and you wouldn’t do that.”
“I ran up the street to talk to Mr. Davidson.” See? Way better than losing a toe. “I shirked nothing. The dog and cat were fine for a time on their own. Just like they were fine while we...” He’d let that one sit there.
