“Maybe we can all watch it here then,” she says, trotting past him. They both kick off their shoes, then he waggles a bag of candy cane-flavored popcorn. Damn him. That’s gonna be hard for me to resist, and Mia too.
They hustle into the kitchen. I scoop up Wanda, while giving the unexpected guest a once-over, and taking my sweet time enjoying the view of her here at my house again. “And you accuse me of sabotage.”
She smiles as she undoes the buttons on her coat. “Do we really call this sabotage?”
“You showing up with your brother unannounced? Yes, I call it sabotage.”
“But I texted first to let you know I was coming. You didn’t answer.”
Dammit. I left my phone downstairs when I was upstairs with Mia. A quick scan of my texts now revealsshe’s telling the truth. “Seems like you’re getting out of jail on a technicality,” I say with a huff.
“Rowan, do you really want to lock me up?” She flashes me asweet as cherry piegrin.
Yes, yes, I do. With handcuffs or scarves or ties.
“Fine. It’s not sabotage, but it’s a sneak attack,” I say as she sheds the coat. I reach for it and hang it neatly on a hook by the door.
We head into the kitchen, joining Mia and Jason for a late-night snack. We chat about the hockey game, the book Mia’s reading, and the new trick Wanda learned at Dog Tails until a canyon-sized yawn takes over my kid.
That’s my cue. “Bedtime for real now,” I tell her, then take her upstairs, tuck her in, and give her a kiss goodnight.
“Night, Dad,” she says, as her eyes flutter.
“Night, cupcake,” I say, straightening the book on the nightstand.
“We can finish the story tomorrow,” she says as she settles into the pillow.
“Can’t wait,” I say, then I head downstairs. When I find Jason and Isla in the kitchen, I park my hands on my hips. “All right. I’ve gotten a thong today, a sweater with Santa’s ass on it, and a box of chocolate. What are you two up to?”
“Santa’s ass?” Jason asks, right as Isla says, “A thong?”
I wave a hand. “I’ll explain another time. Drinks?”
They nod, so I pour a Chablis for Isla and a whiskey for Jason, while grabbing a bubbly water for me since I don’t like to drink when Mia’s home. Next, an ice-pack.
We head to the living room and flop down on the big L-shaped gray sofa. As I drape the cold pack over my shoulder, Isla’s pretty eyes scan the space. It’s not the first time she’s been here of course. She got the lay of the landlast week when we ate sushi. But this feels different, and I’m not sure why.
Because you kissed her, you jackass.
Oh, right. That’d do it.
I tense as I try to see my home through her eyes. Is she thinking about the lack of Christmas decorations? The fact that my home is simple and unadorned? Just a big couch for watching movies with Mia, a coffee table covered in coloring supplies, and a state-of-the-art sound system, but nothing that screams a holiday is coming.
Does she like it?
Why the hell am I wondering if she likes it?
Best to get down to business. “All right. What’s going on with this late-night visit?”
As Isla takes a sip of her Chablis, I try my damnedest not to stare salaciously at her pink lips, but it’s hard. Damn hard. She sets her glass on a coaster right as I lift my raspberry lime drink, hoping it’ll distract my one-track mind.
“I told Jason about our practice dates,” she says, and I nearly do a spit take.
But that would give away my crush, so I uncomfortably swallow down the carbonated drink.
“Yeah?” I rasp out.
Jason lifts his tumbler, giving an approving nod. “Brilliant plan. Isla will coach you. It’ll get you one step closer to the real thing.”
