Page 77 of Poppy Kisses
Curiosity filled her gaze. “You really think we would’ve been something? At least, until the first prom when Hassie said, ‘not on my watch.’”
“I can’t promise I would’ve been in my right mind. I needed each day until my prefrontal cortex matured.”
She giggled. “Perhaps I did too. I needed to date more Dillons to know that being single is better than that.”
“But the house?”
A sexy smile spread across her face. “The house is worth marrying a talented cabinetmaker struggling to get by as a single dad. He doesn’t know how sexy he is, and my job is to show him that not only is he good with his hands, but he’s good with his tongue.”
The lust that had been kindling the whole evening—hell, the whole day—roared to a fully stoked fire. “Auggie was asleep before I left his room.”
Interest lined her face. “Oh? I haven’t showered yet.”
“Neither have I.”
She leaned forward, stopping when she was close to my mouth. “Race you.”
ChapterNineteen
Poppy
The week after Hassie’s call turned into one of the best weeks of summer I’d ever had. I’d done my lessons with Auggie. Then more tutoring, went to the house to paint and clean, or snuck into the shop for a quickie with Jensen. Some days, we weren’t so quick. But with Auggie at his grandma’s for certain hours of the day, it was like we were kids at home alone and ready to party—but with each other.
Jensen had gotten two more queries this week. He’d had me proof his replies, and while the editing programs had caught some minor issues, it had let a few slip through. I would have to look through some other programs, ones that he could input what he wanted to say and have it clean up his grammar. I had another parent ask me about what others did, those who’d slipped and slid through the school system, adapting and learning by brute force that hurt their brain, only to have a few lingering issues as adults. I’d have to make some resources for adults, too, who came to me.
I finished typing up my notes for my last client and made a few reminders for me for next time, then answered a few emails. Just as I hit send, I sensed Jensen’s heat before I saw him.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Mom’s texted me twice on Auggie’s behalf. He’s excited for tonight.”
I groaned, but a smile still played over my lips. “I’m only nervous when I think about it.”
“And that’s every second?” When I nodded, he chuckled and walked toward me. “I’m excited to see you out there, Coach, being bossy and showing those legs off.”
“Who am I showing my legs off to?”
“Trust me. Dads and a few moms I know are going to be looking.”
I tapped my chin. “Hmm…what if I’m checking out their legs?”
He sucked a breath through his teeth. “I’m going to have to put my shorts on so you’re only looking at mine.”
“What’s my incentive to check you out?” He had nice ones. Muscled with dainty ankles that I admired. I’d always had sturdy legs and was more self-conscious in dresses because of them. Then there had been Hassie and Jensen’s dress comment. That hadn’t helped. But each time Jensen ran his hand over my skin rewrote history.
“You can check out anyone you want, as long as these legs are wrapped around me in the shower tonight.”
Arousal kindled in my gut, always on a low burn around him. “You’re getting bold, Hollis. You think I’m a sure thing?”
“If you’re not, I’m doing something wrong.” He knelt and slid his arms around me, tucking them between my back and the chair.
I took his hat off and stuffed my hands into his short hair, letting the soft strands float through my fingers. “What if no one shows up?”
The soccer club was Aspen’s show, not mine. Technically. I was involved, and the closer we got, the more emails she’d sent me, and she’d called a few times. Whatever I felt could be considered nerves by proxy, but the first practice was only a couple of hours away.
Jensen buried his face in my lap. “At least one kid is showing up, and I know Auggie will shout to the world that he loves it.”
“I can see that he enjoys playing. I’m not worried about working with him. What if kids have changed since I coached? Or they get there and think it’s lame?” I lived for the sport, but it wasn’t my identity. However, coaching had been my personality once. I’d loved it, I’d loved mentoring, and I got a thrill out of watching skills develop and grow.
