Page 24 of Enticing

“Tell me how it made you feel to have a man in your space again. Tell me you were okay afterward. Tell me you didn’t have nightmares after he left, because I haven’t seen you let a man in your space in over a year.”

“Coraline—”

“Don’t Coraline me. I was there when you finally left Gavin. I saw you. I know you. So you tell me all that, then tell me that hot man got your phone number and you’re going to go out with him. Because Addie, seriously, no man is coming to dinner to eat meatloaf because a five-year-old invited him to.” I know she’s teasing me a little to lighten the subject, and I appreciate it.

“It was the mac ‘n cheese,” I murmur.

“Bullshit,” she coughs. “Addie . . .”

“I was okay after he left,” I admit a little more forcefully. “He seems like a good guy. Izzy likes him, and Lennox loved him. He was some kind of baby whisperer.”

“Oh shit. Hot and he’s good with the kids? Does he have big hands too?”

A giggle presses behind my pursed lips. “Jesus, Coraline.”

“Shut up, you know you looked.” She’s not wrong, and her eyes light up in teasing glee because the little tart knows it. “Did he ask you out?”

“No,” I whisper, and my blood warms as I think about his text.

I’m not asking yet. But when you’re ready, I will.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’ll never be ready for that.

“But I wouldn’t have said yes if he did.”

I don’t tell Cori about the text. She’d just lecture me, and I’m not in the mood.

ADELAIDE

I’m not sure what it says about me that I just realized all the punishments I threaten my daughter with are my actual adult goals. Staying home. Going to bed early. Having to be quiet for five minutes. And my favorite... getting spanked. I’ll never spank her, but I’m certain I wouldn’t mind being spanked once in a while.

—Addie’s Secret Thoughts

Istand, staring at my sleeping baby, wishing like hell I didn’t have to wake her but knowing the second I pick her up from her swooshing swing, her beautiful brown eyes the color of melted cinnamon sugar will open, and she’ll probably go from being angelic to cranky in a heartbeat. I mean... like mother, like daughter. I don’t like to be woken up either. Lennox, however, takes dislike to a whole new level.

A quick glance at the clock reminds me I have no time left to stall if I want to get Izzy from Hockey Tots on time. And I’d really like to get there a few minutes early, just to be safe. At least, I’m telling myself that’s the reason for my sudden urge to be on time for the first time ever.

It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact a certain hockey hottie wasn’t there last week when I picked her up.

Or that I may have checked the schedule, and the Revolution is home today and has a game tomorrow. So that same man should theoretically be there, coaching the Tots today.

And it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that the words have been coming few and far between while I struggled to write this afternoon, or that those damn words seem to come easier after I’ve talked to said hottie.

Damn it.

If Mrs. Murkey was here, I could leave my teething baby to sleep with her, but our surrogate grandmother went to Washington to stay with her sister for December, leaving me on my own until she gets back in January. And as much as I appreciate her letting me use her car while she’s gone, I miss her more than I’d like to admit. Not just because she’s such a huge help with the girls, but because she’s become family, and the girls and I don’t have a whole lot of that.

I look down at Lennox one more time, wishing I didn’t have to wake her but knowing I do. Okay... here goes nothing.

I scoop her out of her swing and place her in her car seat as gently and slowly as someone would diffuse a bomb. Then careful not to jostle her, I tuck the blanket around her legs and zip up the carrier cover.

December rolled in earlier this week and brought the first real inches of snow with it. It’s bitterly cold today. Cold enough that I had to suck it up and turn the heat up. Future ridiculous bill be damned.

Two big brown eyes pinch shut as she puckers her little pink lips together and stretches before those same eyes pop open and lock on me, clearly pissed off.

It’s definitely Lennox’s world. The rest of us just live in it.

“Shh... sweet girl,” I coo. “Mommy’s got you. We’ve got to pick up your sissy.”

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