Page 13 of Hat Trick Holidate

She crosses her arms, getting more defiant, refusing to undress, so I do what I think a parent should do. I unfold her arms against her will and remove her pajamas and underwear. Jolie continues to resist but when I finally place her in the water and splash the warm water over her shoulders, her will fades.

Her legs relax, and she begins to splash around, forgetting why she was upset. Looking up at me with her innocent eyes, she gives me a hint of a smile. My heart squeezes from the tiniest gesture. How is it possible to love someone instantly? But I knew as soon as Francesca showed me her picture.

I don’t have a handheld shower head in this bathroom to wet her hair, so I run downstairs and get a plastic bowl. By the time I get back up, the floor is puddled with water. A growl escapes my chest, but Jolie is unfazed by my displeasure as she continues to splash around, having fun.

As I submerge the bowl, she hits it, flipping the bottom and soaking my t-shirt.

Another growl.

After filling the bowl, she lets me wet her hair, and I pour the watermelon-smelling shampoo into my hands and lather it through her hair. She takes the plastic bowl, fills it with the soapy water, and dumps it on her head. In the process, she hits me in the face.

Another growl.

“Jolie, we have to use clean water to rinse your hair.” I make a mental note to get a sprayer attachment for this bathroom to make it easier. As I turn the water back on, she sticks her foot in the stream, redirecting the water, and she laughs. She laughs. The sound is pure like when you scream in the mountains, and it echoes back.

I rinse her hair and then grab the pink fluffy towel hanging on the hook behind the door, reminding me to lower it to her height.

When we’re done towel drying her hair, I say, “Do you know where you put your underwear?”

One blink.

Opening the bottom drawer, I show her. She picks out a blue pair and slides them over her legs. I look through her clothes again, and I can only find dresses, so I pull out two and hold them up. “Which one?”

She doesn’t respond so I ease the green knit polo style one over her head. Tendrils of white gold hang to her shoulders, and she looks like a child model from J Crew or Lacoste.

Two hours have passed when we get in one of my five vehicles. My driver picked up a car seat, and I couldn’t figure out how to get it secured. I sit her in the backseat with the regular seatbelt and go twenty-five miles an hour, taking as many side streets as possible.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I pull up to Reed’s gated community. His house sits on ten acres, and when I ease into the driveway, I see the inflatables in the backyard.

She walks beside me to the backyard. Reed is manning the grill in a long-sleeve shirt and sweatpants. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?” he asks, briefly looking at the little girl wrapped around my leg.

Brooke saves the day, “Jolie. I’m Brooke. Do you like babies? This is Christina.” She bends down, letting Jolie get up close to her. Out of nowhere, Cannon comes blazing and hiding behind Brooke, Christina, and Jolie.

Caleb yells, “No fair. You can’t hide behind Mom and Sissy. You know the rules.”

“Rules were made to be broken,” Cannon shouts back, then he grabs Jolie’s hand, jerking her with him. I almost say something, but Cannon shouts, “Let’s go. He can’t catch both of us.”

Jolie doesn’t scream or say anything; she just runs away with Cannon. Caleb, who is about seven years older, takes a step toward them and Reed holds the hem of his shirt. “Caleb, let’s give them a head start.”

“You never let me win.”

“They’re not winning, but Jolie needs to make a friend, so give them a minute. I’m not saying you can’t find them. You know Cannon will hide in plain sight. When you find them, ask them to go down the inflatable slide with you.”

Caleb huffs but strides out into the field where there’s a combination football, soccer field, a barn, tennis courts, and a large play structure.

When the kids are out of earshot, Brooke says, “Jolie is so cute. You can definitely tell she’s yours.”

I nod as Reed pops the top on a beer and hands it to me.

“Thanks. I just wish she would talk to me. Not one word since her mom dropped her off, and Francesca won’t answer her phone. I have no idea what to do. Actually, I have a list a mile long and no idea where to start,” I say, handing my phone to Brooke to show her my list.

Attachment for Bathroom sprayer

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