Page 74 of Rivals Next Door

Olivia gawked at me and then she snickered. “You look ridiculous.”

Chuckling, I shrugged. “The host of the tea party demanded that I get a new hairdo, and she thought pink nails would go well with my ‘pretty’ hairstyle.” I lifted my hands and wiggled my fingers, which had coral-pink construction paper taped to them.

“Who exactly did you spend the day with?” she asked.

I smiled broadly and affection was probably stamped on my face. “A five-year-old. The coolest kid in the land.”

She let out a little laugh. “Oh… well, that explains the tea party and the nails…”

“Yup.” I headed to the kitchen and Olivia followed. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, and where did you find a five-year-old?”

“Good, so we can get right to the drinking.” I needed a little alcohol in my system to be okay with the knowledge that I agreed to work with my ex-girlfriend to take down a corrupt businessman as if we were fucking superheros. As I aimed for the liquor cabinet, I asked, “Remember Michael?”

“Vaguely. He’s one of the members of your boy band, right?”

“Hilarious. He’s one of the five, yes. As I recall, that's what you used to call us.”

Olivia smiled. “I didn’t see much of Michael or James back in college. They were the more introverted ones, right?”

“Uh-huh.” I gathered ingredients to make her favorite cocktail. However, as I filled the tumbler with ice, I paused when I remembered that I hadn’t made Olivia a cocktail in about a decade. Her taste might have changed. “I should have asked what you wanted.”

She glanced at the bottle of vodka, coffee liqueur, and cream. Her face lit up. “You’re on the right track. White Russian is still my favorite.”

A mix of emotions surged through me at seeing how much I still knew her and how comfortable we could still get around each other despite everything. I mean, the two of us in my kitchen like this was a disgustingly sweet picture of domesticity. “Right.”

Olivia nibbled on her lower lip as her gaze slid away from me. “You were telling me about a five-year-old, how your hair got into that mess, and why you’ve still got pink construction paper taped to your fingernails.”

I grinned. “I was. Michael has a five-year-old daughter. He’s in Manhattan for a while and I agreed to babysit today.” I poured her cocktail into a glass, poured some whiskey for myself, and took a seat beside her. “Poppy demanded that I look presentable for her tea party, so she gave me a makeover.”

Olivia’s laughter floated around me, bringing out my smile. I plucked my phone out of my pocket to show her the selfies that little Poppy also demanded we take. She bellowed when she saw me posing in a tiara.

I pointed to the stuffed lion I held. “That’s Kitty Kat… with a K. She was another guest at the tea party.” I slid my finger across the screen to bring up a photo of me with a little blonde girl who practically hung around my neck. Her little arms circled my neck and her cheek was pressed against mine. She wore the biggest smile and her eyes twinkled with laughter. “And that’s Poppy.”

Olivia stared at the picture, a smile stretching her lip. “She’s such an adorable little girl.”

“That she is, and we all spoil her rotten. She says I’m her ‘funnest’ uncle. It’s our little secret though. The others can’t find out.”

She chuckled. “I bet you are. You allowed her to do your hair and put fake nails on you. You wore a tiara.”

“No one was allowed into the party without one.” I shrugged and took a sip of my drink. “Besides, I made that tiara look good.”

Olivia rolled her eyes and reached for her drink. “You’re so full of yourself. And I can’t believe you came home like that.” She waved a hand to encompass the multi-colored rubber bands that held my short hair in spiky little ponytails.

“I’m secure in my masculinity,” I joked as I inspected my nails. “But I’d better get these off.” I started plucking the paper off my fingernails and grumbled, “I’ll be in real trouble when Poppy starts to experiment with actual nail polish.”

“Brace yourself. She might also use you as her doll when she gets into makeup.”

I frowned at that.

Olivia chuckled and sipped her cocktail. “This is good. You’re still a master mixologist.”

“I am.” I winced when I yanked a rubber band from my hair. Soon, I had them all out and I combed my fingers—which were now free of pink paper nails— through my hair.

“Ah, I can look at you without breaking out into giggles now,” Olivia said.

I grinned. “Laugh all you want, but I bet I could have gone out looking like that and still would’ve gotten some… I mean, sex.”

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