Page 32 of Teasing

It looks like even Emmie won’t be enough to pull him out of his funk today though. I watch her eyes narrow on him and his pissed-off glare. “Hi, Jamie.”

Is it possible for someone’s voice to sound like music?

Because hers does, and that pisses me off more than Jamie’s shit mood.

I don’t want to like the sound of her voice. I don’t want to wonder what it would sound like with her coming on my face...

“Hey, Em,” he forces out through a fake as hell smile because no matter how tired and sore he is, he’s still Jamie and, even on his worst day, he’s still nicer than me.

Emmie leans back against the island as Jamie grabs his phone from the counter and leaves us alone in the room. She smiles while she sips her coffee, enjoying it the way most people savor far better, and sometimes far worse, things.

I’ve learned quickly this woman runs on caffeine and chaos with a sprinkle of glitter disguised as fairy dust tossed in the mix. In less than a full week, there’s been more pink and green glitter on my floors than there’s been in Rosie’s lifetime.

“So...” I rinse my now-empty mug and add it to the dishwasher. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Rosie is going to help me teach my art class.” She lifts her large canvas tote bag and sits it on the counter. “I think she’s going to love it.” With a pretty pink flush to her cheeks, she drops her eyes. “And I appreciate you being okay with me taking her.”

I hate the hesitance in her voice.

“Not a problem. I left my keys on the counter. Take my car.” I look at the clock and wince. I’ve got to get going, but I’d much rather stay here and get some answers. Like why is Emmie’s dad in a facility? How long has he been there? And why was she living in that house alone before Camden moved in... I want answers, but I get the feeling she doesn’t want to talk about any of it, so I don’t push.

See... I can be a nice guy. It’s just easier to be a dick.

Itoss my bag next to the door and kick off my shoes after practice, fucking spent and looking forward to just being home. Some guys want to go grab dinner or drinks after practice, and maybe that would be me too if I didn’t have Rosie, but I do. And my kid is the highlight of every day. Lately, it’s been her and Emmie dancing or painting or laughing. Sometimes all of the above. There’s almost always music playing and something baking in the oven. And let’s not forget the glitter. That shit’s been everywhere for days. In just a few short weeks, it’s all become our new norm. One I’ve grown to appreciate because I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Rosie happier. But today, the house is quiet and dark as I step inside and drop my bag by the door.

“Mav?” Emmie’s soft voice whispers from down the hall. And that one word pulls at something deep in my chest. The familiarity there. The comfort. I’m not sure when that happened either, but it did.

“Yeah. Why are you whispering?” I quickly follow her voice and get my answer when I step into the family room and find Rosie asleep on the couch, with her head resting on Emmie’s lap. Her fingers run tenderly through Rosie’s hair.

It’s the picture of the life I thought I’d have one day. Of course, I expected the happy wife and kids to come in my thirties. Instead, I got the amazing kid and a gorgeous nanny in my twenties. “A little late for a nap, isn’t it?”

Emmie shakes her head and trails her fingers down Rosie’s cheek. “She’s not feeling great.”

“What?” I drop to a squat in front of Rosie and press my lips to her forehead. “She’s warm. Why didn’t you call?”

Emmie’s eyes narrow on me, and I realize how harsh my words came out.

Not the first time. And probably won’t be the last.

I don’t actually want to be a dick. But with her, I can’t seem to stop.

“Because she was fine until an hour ago. We got home from our art class, and she said she didn’t feel well. I took her temp, and it was 99.9, so I gave her the approved children’s ibuprofen, and she fell asleep on my lap.” Her hand keeps caressing my kid, and I feel like an ass. “I knew you’d be home soon and didn’t want to bother you. I had it under control.”

“She’s my daughter—not a bother,” I snap, keeping my voice down, as color flushes Emmie’s cheeks. How is it possible to be pissed and fucking turned-on at the same damn time? I swear to God, every single time this girl blushes, a whole new filthy thought comes to mind. I never jerked off as much in my whole damn life as I have these past few weeks.

Maybe Killian’s right. Maybe I do need to get the hell out because staying in isn’t helping with myproblem.

“And she’s fine. It’s barely a fever. I followed the instructions you left in the folder. Do you rush her to the pediatrician every time she has a fever?” she pushes back gently, and I reach for Rosie just as Emmie’s hand runs over her hair again. Our hands meet, and her eyes snap to mine just before she yanks her hand away. “Did you really want me to interrupt your practice for this?”

She’s right. I don’t run her to the doctor for every fever. She’s a kid. She gets sick the same as anyone else.Shit. “No. You did the right thing.”

A triumphant smile tugs at her lips. “I’m sorry, what?”

I stand and look at this woman holding my daughter.

She’s so damn beautiful and sweet and sexy without even knowing it.

And fuck, she’s fantastic with Rosie.

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