Page 23 of The Sleight Before Christmas

Bring it on, Daddy Thatch.

Grinning after my husband, I glance over to my son as he turns to me, his lips parted due to his father’s actions. “Mommy, didyou seewhat Daddy did?”

I flit my gaze from Peyton to my favorite lamp, which is currently lying in questionable condition on our hardwoods. Simmering because of it, Peyton continues to fruitlessly badger me until finally taking my cue and following my line of sight.

“I didn’t broked it,” Peyton exclaims loudly as I wordlessly turn and put the squash casserole in the oven.

“You came,” Serena sounds smugly, barely visible in the small light filtering through the lone window—that is, until she flicks her lighter. “Were you worried about my self-esteem?”

“Petrified,” I retort dryly, “and don’t light that, I can hang for a minute, but I can’t smoke that with you.”

“You don’t smoke weed?”

“No,” I lie.

“Bullshit,” she calls, studying my face over the small flame. “I could see you foaming at the mouth when I pulled out the bag.”

“Embellish much? I was not.”

“So, you were foaming at the mouth for me.” She taunts as a statement.

“Your confidence issue is heartbreaking, Serena, truly. I hope you get the help you need.”

“Do my parents know what an asshole you are?” She asks before sparking up anyway and exhaling the rest of her question. “Or do you pose for them?”

“Your parents don’t interact with the asshole in me because they don’t purposely provoke him and don’t consider confrontation a personal sport,” I say, pulling the joint from her fingers and easily holding it out of reach.

“Hey, that’s mine.”

“So why am I here then, Serena?” I chide, handing her back her joint before walking over to peer through the window facing the house. The deck Allen and I built sending a shot of pride through me, as well as the inkling that I shouldn’t be here. Not alone with his daughter like this. I’m positive now that her parents set us up, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t appreciate how the rest of this night is playing out. It’s the static that kicked between us hours ago that had me coming back. That also had me pacing outside my truck parked a street over before I finally decided to do a fly-through.

For what, Thatch?

“You came for me,” she declares with surety as I turn to see her watching me curiously.

“That’s undecided,” I tell her honestly.

“Well, that’s mutual. I don’t know if I like you, either. And who are you, anyway, Thatch?”

“I’m as certain of that as you are about yourself.”

“Fair enough, so, what’s the decision maker for you. Or,” she pulls on her joint, holding the smoke briefly before exhaling, her question playful, “or better yet, what’s your deal breaker?”

She smells so fucking good, like some sort of clean-scented bloom. A whiff of her earlier had my cock twitching in my jeans. The inch-close stare off had me wanting to snatch her and mark her skin, interested in knowing what her moan might sound like. It’s a fact already she’s a mouthy, highlyopinionated fireball, but there’s heart beneath her sass. Bored blind by her empty conversation at dinner, it was still obvious to me that she consists of more. Still water and all. Though, with Serena, it’s like turbulent rapids of smoke and mirrors.

Then again, I hope she’s as shallow as she depicts herself to be because that static between us is dangerous. Discovering there’s something real inside her, worth knowing, will be even more so for me. I told Allen when we started on the deck that I was leaving Nashville, so I can’t help but wonder if the reason for this setup is his attempt to keep me here. But, by way of his daughter?

No fucking way.

Firstly, Allen is crazy protective of his family. Though I’m certain I’ve earned his trust, he would never go to those lengths for me. The idea that he sees me as a fit for her has my chest tightening while, at the same time, a painful unease sinks into me. For the second time in minutes, I glance at the shed door, willing myself to bid her goodnight and walk through it.

“So, are you going to smoke or what?” She prompts, sensing my hesitation.

“Or what,” I say, staring diligently at the house before waving her smoke away. “Why do it in here?” I ask. “Your dad is sure to smell it. Is this some shitty attempt at rebellion?”

“It would be pitiful, but despite what you’ve decided about me, I didn’t give Ruby and Allen too much shit. Not even when I was in High School.”

“You mean five minutes ago?”

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