by Penny Reid
Jayda made a gun with her thumb and two fingers and pointed it at me. “Boom. There’s my reply. Thanks.”
I blinked. “He’s not going to date you after you say that.”
“Oh, I know. That’s a good thing. But, hey—at least you’re not freaking out about Hot Dad anymore.”
Famous last words.
Oh my god, I was going to be sick.
I was a dreadful adult. I was a terrible businesswoman, a dreadful adult, and an inconsiderate human being.
All right, no, I wasn’t. But I felt like it.
I was definitely going to be sick, though.
No doubt about it.
That was dramatic. And untrue. Oh my god, what was wrong with me? Jayda was right. We were adults who kissed. I was there today to do a job and I had to do that.
I wish doing things were as easy as saying them.
Then again, if that happened, I would have given up Twizzlers years ago.
I pulled up next to Brantley’s car on the drive. The fact the car was there wasn’t even remotely reassuring to my hope that he’d be at the office again today.
Mind you, him going to the office had led to the kiss…
Man, I was between a rock and a hard place. And the only hard place I liked being up against was a penis.
I took a deep breath and got out of the car. I wore my usual uniform of denim shorts, a white tank, and a plaid shirt. I had to own more plaid shirts than the guys in Outlander did kilts, but I liked them. For work, that was.
I remembered to grab Brantley’s shirt—that I’d washed and dried overnight—from the passenger seat. Folding it up smaller, I held it against my stomach as I locked the truck and headed toward the front door.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in, Kali!” Brantley shouted from somewhere inside.
I stared at the door handle like it wanted to eat me.
The door swung open of its own accord.
And, standing there, in front of me, was Eli. Wearing nothing but striped underwear, rain boots, and a superhero cape. A red mask the exact color of the cape covered his eyes.
I blinked at him.
“Kawi!” he said enthusiastically. “Come in!”
“Um, thank you?” I stepped inside. “Nice…outfit?”
He beamed at me like I’d paid him the greatest compliment ever. Then, he pulled some ninja-moves, slicing his arms through the air before he lifted his leg and kicked the door shut. “Kachow! I’m Ninja-Man!”
“Eli!” Brantley groaned. “What have I told you about kicking doors shut?”
Eli sped into the front room and held his hands before him in a ready-to-attack position. “Ninja-Man doesn’t have rules! Zoom! Zoom! Zoom!” He ran around the room in circles.
Ellie sat in the armchair, wearing a glittery tutu and a crown. Satiny-looking gloves covered her hands and arms up to her elbows, and both wrists and several fingers were adorned with plastic jewelry.
Ah.
They were playing dress-up.
Why Eli was wearing underwear and rain boots was something I was interested in, though.
“Hi.” Brantley shot me a weary and awkward smile.
“Hi. Should I ask?”
“As a rule…no.”
“Hi, Kawi! I’m a pwincess! You has to curt-saw to me.”
Brantley clapped his hand against his forehead. “Curtsey, Ellie. See, not saw.”
She frowned and looked at him. “Curt-sawing is more fun. Look see.” She jumped up and bent her knees, then rocked side to side. “See? That’s a curt-saw.”
I blinked at her.
She had a point.
Brantley clearly felt similarly to me. “Awesome. Would Her Highness enjoy a fruit snack?”
“A candy snack,” Ellie countered.
“Zoom, zoom, zoom!” Eli held his arms out wide, gripping his cape, and ran right between where Ellie was standing and Brantley was kneeling on the floor.
Brantley eyed him. “Someone already found the candy, so it’s fruit or nothing, I’m afraid.”
Ahh.
That made so much more sense.
“All right. Well, then. I’m going to head on upstairs and get started.” I cocked my thumb over my shoulder in the general direction of the stairs. “I’ll leave you to…this.”
Brantley coughed to cover a laugh and shot me a thumb up. “Thanks. Your support is noted.”
I shrugged, smirked, and disappeared upstairs.
Thank god for that.
There was only so much I could take of looking him in the eye. Especially when he was particularly exasperated with the twins—and there was no way he wasn’t given Ellie’s curt-saws and Eli’s apparently intense sugar high.
Hell, I could still hear him zoom-zooming around the room and Brantley asking him to “Please stop zooming for a moment.”
I had a little chuckle at that. He was a different person when he was over their games—funny yet serious, and totally adorable in his frustration.
Shit.
Wait.
No.
Abort that line of thinking, Kali. That’s not going to lead anywhere. Nowhere good, anyway.
I retrieved my brushes, roller, and tray from the bathtub and went into Ellie’s room. The paint was, obviously, completely dry, but not as even as I’d have liked. The walls had been in such bad condition from bad papering and peeling paper that it was going to take more effort than I’d planned to paint it properly.
Still, I got started.
My tools and things were in a pile in the middle of the room. I opened my toolbox and pulled out a flat screwdriver to open the can of paint. I slipped it beneath the lid and pushed down, popping it open.
The bubblegum-pink was almost painful to look out, even for someone like me who liked pink, but I poured it into the tray and grabbed a roller.
I glanced at the door. There was some kind of a ruckus downstairs about who was better, princesses or superheroes.
Hmm.
That sounded like it was only a matter of time before a princess infiltrated my work.
Roller firmly in hand, I crossed the room and shut the door. Then shifted my toolbox in front of it.
There—it was now child and Brantley-proof.
Hopefully.
Knock, knock.
“Kawi?”
I rolled paint onto the wall.
“Kaaaawwwwiiiii?”
I gritted my teeth.
More knocks.
Quicker, endless knocks that went on until I felt like my brain was ready to explode.
“Yes?” I called. “I’m busy, Ellie.”
“I wanna see my woom.”
“It’s not done.” It had been two hours. I haven’t even done the two biggest walls yet.
“Pwease.”
Judging by the muffled huff and bang against the door, she’d slumped against it.
“Where’s your dad?”
“Making me a chocwat sammich,” she replied. “I wanna see.”
“You should go check on lunch,” I replied.
“I’m a pwincess, you know. You had to do what I say.”
Last time I checked, this was a republic, but whatever…
I set the roller in the tray, pushed my tools to the side, and opened the door.
She stood there, pouting for all it was worth, arms folded across her chest. Her tutu stuck out almost at a ninety-degree angle, and she had now adopted some plastic, backless, dress-up shoes that, in the color blue, were at odds with her pink outfit.
“Ellie,” I said softly. “I have to get my work done, okay?”
“Painting isn’t wort. It’s fun.”
“If you’re four.” I tapped her nose. “But painting rooms is part of my job. So, it’s work. Can you let me do it?”
She leaned to the side, her tiny hand gripping the doorframe. “Okay, but I don’t wanna.” She pouted and stalked off, sulking.
I dropped my head. I felt guilty, but there was no way I could have he
r in here. Turning back to my roller, I coated it in paint, and picked it up.
“Ellie,” I heard myself say. “Come here.”
Damn it, self.
She appeared as if by magic, a huge, hopeful grin stretched across her face. “Yeah?”
I sighed. “You can stay, but you sit quietly, and you must put on some proper clothes.”
Frowning, she stared down at herself. “Oh.”
She looked so sad, I was pretty sure she was going to change her mind about wanting to be in here with me.
“Okay,” she said after a moment of silence. “I get changed.”
I blinked, watching her as she disappeared.
A glob of paint fell off the end of my roller and hit my bare foot.
And that was reason number one why I didn’t want Ellie in the room.
I couldn’t focus for the life of me.
Another sigh escaped my lips as I turned and wiped it off my foot with my fingers. I awkwardly flicked it back into the tray, before wiping my fingers on my thigh awkwardly.
I could have gone to wash my hands in the sink, but…Actually, I had no reason for why I didn’t. Other than the risk of Ellie being in this room, alone, with paint, I was just being lazy.
“Hey—did you say Ellie could come up here with you?”
I squealed, dropping the roller. It landed smack on top of both of my feet before flipping onto the floor and coating the old wood in the teeth-gratingly sweet pink paint.
“Shit!” I turned. “Oh, crap! Is she up here?”
Brantley surveyed my feet, then the floor, then ran his eyes up my body. They lingered a little on my thighs, and I was going to believe it was because of the random pink stripes on them.
I mean, it probably was. Why was I even thinking that it wouldn’t be?
His lips pulled to one side. “No, she’s not up here. You’re all good.”
“Thank God.” I bent over and put the roller back in its tray so it could think about the mess it’d made of my feet—twice. “Yes, I did say she could come up here with me. I swear she has some freaky voodoo that sends me on a guilt trip every time she doesn’t get what she wants.”
He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. That’s something they should really mention before you have kids. That you’ll spend the rest of your life feeling guilty for anything from, “No, you can’t have a puppy,” to “You cannot eat the moldy cookie you hid behind the sofa six months ago.””
“Why would you feel guilty about that?”
“The eyes. They get you every time. Which is why they’re not allowed a puppy. I can’t have three people to guilt me into stuff.”
“The puppy would probably eat the cookie, though. It’d solve that problem.”
“There is that,” he agreed.
We shared a smile.
It was a little too intimate.
I coughed and broke the eye contact, getting my roller once again.
“Do you want a towel, or…” He paused, and I peered over at him. “The paint. It’s, um… You’re covered in it.”
I glanced at my feet and my legs. “It happens. Today more than usual.”
“You know you don’t have to have Ellie up here, don’t you? You can tell her no. I’ll even tell her no and take the guilt-trip for you.”
I laughed and started painting again. “It’s fine. She’ll probably get bored of watching me and disappear without me knowing it.”
He met my eyes and held my gaze for a long, hard second. “Your optimism. It kills me.” Then, he turned and left.
“What does that mean?” I shouted over my shoulder.
His answer? A barking laugh that made me shiver.
At least I wasn’t too awkward in that conversation. That was a win.
Chapter 15
“Annen I told Daddy that if he won’t buy me the Cindewewa castle for my birssday I cry and ask Santa but Santa is before my birssday but I don’t wanna wait for Santa or my birssday I weally want it now.” Ellie paused to take a deep breath, and before I could interject some bullshit comment about patience, she started again. “Ewi got his superhewo cave and the twiceratops. It’s not fair.”
I stared at her, paintbrush dripping into the tray.
Now, I had two options here. I could resume my original attempt at talking to her about patience, but I had the feeling it would be falling on deaf ears.
Maybe because she’d started talking again, while I stood here and blinked at her.
My second option was to make soothing noises of sympathy and agreement and nod my head along with her that it wasn’t fair.
Or, a third one, I could turn around and do my job and let her whine.
That last one seemed right. After all, I’d already tuned her out. Aside from a dull buzzing, I was watching her lips moving at the speed of light, but I wasn’t hearing what she was saying.
Now, that was a skill I was interested in developing further.
I turned back to the wall, faking a nod, and finished my edging around the doorframe. She talked the entire time. Momentary flashes of paying attention said she’d gone from complaining to talking about how real unicorns were or the validity of fairies.
It was a long-ass half an hour.
“Done!” I said, stepping away from the door with a flourish.
Ellie stopped talking.
Oops.
“Can I sweep here now?” She turned her head side to side, staring out over the room.
“Uh…Not yet. You need a new floor, and curtains, and a bed…”
She huffed from her seat in the middle of the floor. “Can Ewi sweep in his?”
“Nope. I’m going to paint it now.” I put the brush in the tray and picked it up. Then, I paused. “Do you want to help me clean up?”
She pursed her lips. “Cwean up?”
“Yeah. I have to wash the pink paint off of this stuff.” I gave the tray a slight shake. “Do you want to do the brushes in the sink for me?”
She clambered up to her feet, rushed to me, and peered into the tray. “Aww fwee?”
“Not the roller. That’s hard. But sure, you can do the brushes.”
She hesitated for only a second before she nodded her head and ran. I’d barely stepped foot outside her bedroom when I heard her shout, “Ewi! Get off the toiwet!”
Okay.
Maybe I wasn’t going into the bathroom right now.
“No! I’m pooping!” Eli shouted back.
That was too much information.
“Well, stop pooping!” came Ellie’s response. “You smell bad!”
Still too much information.
“I can’t just stop pooping, Ewwie. There’s still poo in my tummy!”
“Okay!” Brantley came up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “That’s your weekly quota of the ‘p’ word used in about ten seconds. Eleanor, let your brother use the toilet. Elijah…Please stop telling the entire neighborhood what you’re doing in the bathroom.”
I snorted, dipping my head since I was still holding the tray.
Brantley turned to look at me. “Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“So am I,” I replied.
“Here, let me take this. I’ll clean it downstairs.” He grabbed the other end of the tray.
“I can do it.” I gently tugged.
His eyebrows shot up. “You just heard that conversation. Let me do it. Honestly. Think of it as my apology for it.”
“It’s fine, honestly. It’ll take me about five seconds to do, and I—”
He gave the tray a good yank and pulled it right out of my hands. “Thank you.”
My jaw dropped. “I didn’t—hey!”
He ignored me completely as he went down the stairs. I stared at his retreating back until I couldn’t see it anymore. I was frozen at the top of the stairs, and while a part of me wanted to chase him down and force him to let me clean the stuff, the rest of me didn’t want to be alone with him.
Was it any wonder why?
I lef
t it. Turned and headed into Eli’s room where the blue and red cans of paint and a fresh set of brushes and a roller were waiting for me. After all, I didn’t need the dirty rollers, but I just liked to clean them while they were wet.
I poured the red paint into the tray. Eli had been very clear he wanted the bigger walls red and the smaller ones blue, so I lumped a ton of paint into the tray, ready to get started.
I touched the roller to the wall. The squelching noise it made as it transferred the paint to the wall always made me cringe at first. But not quite as much as the sound of Ellie shouting at Eli to wash his “poopy hands.”
Yep.
That was definitely the worst thing I’d hear all day.
I shuddered and carried on with the painting. I’d pushed the door almost closed, and the boards outside in the hall creaked. There was muffled whispering, and I braced myself for the onslaught of two tiny people, but then…
“Ellie. Eli. Downstairs!”
“But—”
“Down. Stairs!”
There was a pause, then there was the unmistakable sound of two people going downstairs.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank you, Brantley.
The door creaked open.
Kneeling on the floor with my brush dipped in the tray full of red paint, I peeked over my shoulder. Eli hovered in the doorway, his eyes wide with delight as he looked at the two bright-blue walls.
“Hi,” I said slowly.
He jerked his attention to me and held out a bottle of water. “Daddy said you might want some water.”
Actually, I did.
I set down the brush and motioned him to come in. “I’d love one. Thank you. That’s so nice of you to bring me it.”
He blushed. Quickly, he handed me the bottle and shuffled back. His eyes flitted side to side again, never really making eye contact with me.
He was looking at the walls again.
“Do you like the blue?” I asked softly, tracing my gaze over his face.
He nodded. “Wots,” he whispered.
His shyness sucker-punched me in the gut. Never had I known twins so polar-opposite in their personalities.