Page 85 of Suddenly Entwined

“Of course! It was…a labour of love,” I tell her, steering them toward the car. “You guys excited for tonight?”

The screeching and jumping up and down that ensues answers my question loud and clear. There will be pizza at the dance, so when we get home, the girls head to their room for some downtime and I finish cleaning up my mess in the kitchen. I’m settling down at the kitchen table when I hear the front door open.

“Hello?” I stand and peek around the corner and see Berg coming in with his lunch kit over his shoulder and some grocery bags over his arms.

He grins as he spots me.

I lean against the wall, enjoying the sight of him slipping off his boots.

“You’re home early.” I smile against my mug of tea.

“I, uh, left a bit early so I could stop at the mall on the way.”

I tip my head to one side, walking toward him and realising those aren't grocery bags after all.

“I’m sorry. Did I hear that correctly? You, Berg MacMillan, went to the mall?”

“Yes,” he grumbles, heading for his room.

I follow, hovering at the threshold.

“Voluntarily?”

“Also, yes. I wanted to look nice for you…and the girls.”

Adorable.

He tosses the bags down and I’m not too proud to admit I’m bursting with excitement. Berg looks good as hell in his work clothes, and aside from that, I’ve seen him in jeans a couple of times. I’m dying to know what he bought. I bounce onto thebed, clapping my hands. He groans and rolls his eyes, but I know he loves it.

“You want me to try them on?”

“Do you, or do you not, remember when your daughters gave you a detailed fashion show of their new clothes?”

“I remember it distinctly.”

“Good. Then you know how much women enjoy that type of thing.” I point my finger at his chest. “Strip.”

His eyes heat as he reaches for his buckle, sliding his belt off and dropping it to the floor. I settle back against his pillows, stretching my arms out over them like a VIP in the front row of a strip joint.

I cup my mouth and whisper yell, “Take it off!”

“You’re too much,” he says, discarding his shirt so I can get a look at that furry chest I love so much. “Close your eyes.”

I gasp. “And miss the show?”

“Do it.”

“Fine!” I pout, covering my eyes with my hands.

I listen to the rustle of the shopping bags and the fabric slipping over his skin.

“Okay, don’t laugh.”

“Why would I…”

Well-fitting navy slacks skim over his long legs and a crisp white dress shirt stretches deliciously over his broad shoulders and muscular arms.

“Berg,” I breathe.

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