Page 27 of Hat Trick Holidate

“So, did you decide about Jolie’s school? Will she be attending Admire Academy?”

“I don’t want to send her to school yet. If I send her now,I won’t be able to get to know her. I’ll only see her for a few minutes here and there.”

Her face softens and if eyes could smile, hers are grinning from ear to ear. “You know you don’t sound as grumpy as my brother portrays you. You’re sweet and hot.”

“Hot?”

She chews on her bottom lip, and a memory flashes of her teeth digging into her bottom lip while my tongue was licking every ounce of her arousal.

“For some reason, I keep sticking my foot in my mouth around you,” she says as she bends her knee, grabs her chucks, and lifts her foot to her mouth for emphasis.

I can’t stand another minute in her presence without touching her lips with mine.

Oh Jesus, what I could do with those flexible limbs. My hand instinctively reaches for her, and my fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. I’m an asshole. I should be thinking of Jolie, and all I can think of is Emmaline’s thick tendrils sticking to my body.

My fingers bring her head to mine with my lips ghosting over hers. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but my body and my mind are on the same page. My mind and body remembers how her mouth tasted, and we want a rematch. No alcohol. No music feeding sexual desires. Just a man who wants to feel electrified again. And the woman responsible.

“There’s something special about you,” I confess. “I have an unreasonable desire to make you feel good.” My lips capture the corners of her mouth before centering myself. Her juicy flesh tastes like wine and dessert.

She purrs as my tongue skims her lips, opening them. “How is someone with these lips not taken?” she asks rhetorically… I think. “Because you like being a ladies man.”

“You have me all wrong,” I say as I pull away.

After staring into her eyes that are sometimes blue and sometimes green, she says, “I should go.”

She should. I’m dangerously close to admitting in no uncertain terms that I remember our night. I kiss her cheek and walk her to the door.

For the next two days,not a peep from Emmaline. I wanted her to digest the kiss that happened between us. We had one glass of wine, proving to me, the hunger I feel in my bones isn’t through the fog of alcohol.

While I’m at practice, Belinda watches Jolie, but judging by that little five-year-old’s hip jutting out, they are both frustrated. I understand, it seems the only two people who connect with Jolie are Cannon and Emmaline.

Me: I hate to ask, but can you come over tonight?

Emmaline: Umm… not sure that’s a good idea.

Me: I had you pegged for the “helper” personality.

Emmaline: I can run by for a minute. I have a date.

The fuck she does. I’ll change her mind.

Me: I won’t keep you long. Just need some pointers.

When she arrives, Jolie lights up like a Christmas tree, and I realize that I’m smiling.

I meet her in the kitchen and explain that I had another sitter today, and both Jolie and the sitter got frustrated. “Can you show me what I can do with her and how I can make positive connections with her?”

Her eyes seem green tonight, and I lose myself in them before she says, “Follow me.”

She grabs a children’s book from the coffee table. As she reads each page, she stops and points out things. Or ask questions. “What do you think will happen next?”

My daughter doesn’t answer, but she gets up on her knees to get closer to the pages. She’s interested. Curious.

Then Emmaline turns on YouTube and finds a video where non-verbal kids interact. This allows teachers and parents to measure what they know.

The cartoon character says, “Point to blue.” Jolie goes through all the colors.

The next lesson is “Which animal is the tallest? Which animal is taller than the dog but shorter than the giraffe?” Jolie picks the gorilla.

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