“There is so much to be done,” I mumble, pretending I’m not at all affected by his heart-stopping smile. The jittering of my voice gives away mydeceit.
“The quicker you assign me a task, the quicker we can get out of here,” Hugo replies to my quiet ramblings, his smileenlarging.
The sexual innuendo laced in his reply proves he isn’t buying my act ofdecorum.
Sneering at his heckling face, I ask, “Can you paint?” wiping his smirk straight offhisface.
* * *
“I’m bent,”I groan, flopping onto an office chair Hugo has just finishedassembling.
For the past six hours, Hugo and I have been painting and assembling furniture. We had a quick break when Belinda and Joel came back from the ice cream parlor carrying a bundle of greasy cheeseburgers and fries. An hour later, when Joel became bored spinning in an office chair Belinda assembled, she graciously offered to take him home for a bath and to put himinbed.
Even though Hugo and I have been working tirelessly the entire time, we’ve talked a lot the past six hours. Like all parents concerned about the welfare of their child, most of our conversation revolved around Joel. It hasn’t been tight or restrictive. It’s been free flowing and easy.Like it has always been between us.Thankfully, our chosen topic of discussion has meant we’ve avoided a majority of the sexual sparks that always ignite when we are in each other’s presence. Although I'll always be attracted to Hugo, I’m trying to look at him as the father of my child and not an old flame. Let me tell you, it’s been an uphill battle. Age has been kind to Hugo.Verykind.
Hugo plops his backside onto the ground and chuckles. “Bent?” he queries through archedbrows.
“Yeah, bent. Tired. Exhausted.Bent,” Iexplain.
Hugo chuckles even louder. “Bentis when you are under the influence of alcohol or drugs. I was sobentafter thatparty.”
My brows scrunch. “No, it isn’t! It means you’re tired.”Doesn’tit?
A majority of my adult time is spent hanging out with a four-year-old, so I’m a little out oftheloop.
Hugo’s brows become lost in his hair as he ogles me with a mocking grin carved onhisface.
“Whatever,” I mumble, snagging a paint brush out of a bucket of water and flinging it acrosstheroom.
My mouth gapes open when my throw has perfect aim, hitting Hugo smack bang on his left cheek, smearing half of his face with the vibrant sun yellow paint now lining the exam room walls of myoffice.
“I’m so sorry!” My words come out in a shudder since my entire body is shaking, battling hard to hold in my laughter at the shocked expression onhisface.
“Oh, yeah, you’re going to be sorry,” Hugo replies, launchingforme.
I squeal and dart to the other side of the room. A ragged grunt expels from my lips when Hugo wraps his broad arm around my waist and tackles me to the ground. I roll onto my side and scamper across the floor on my hands and knees.I’m too old to be subjected to a tickling attack.Hugo snags my ankle, sending me tumbling onto my stomach. I’m laughing too hard to register the pain of crashing onto the rigidground.
The plastic sheets we laid to protect the newly laid wooden floorboards crinkle under my body when Hugo drags me backward. I kick out of his hold, roll onto all fours and scramble onto my knees, mimicking his position. Even with my insides dancing like a stripper on crack, I force a stern mask to slip over my face, trying to pretend I’m not loving his playfulness.I haven’t mucked around like this inyears.
“Don’t you dare tickle me,” I warn, waving my index finger in the air like I did when I disciplined Joel for eating an entire box of frosty flakes in one servinglastweek.
A large grin stretches across Hugo’s face as he waggles his brows. We kneel across from each other, staring but not speaking. Only the sound of our chests thrusting up and down as we endeavor to fill our lungs with air is heard as we undertake a sweat mustache-provoking stare down.I really shouldn’t look into his eyes. His eyes are his biggest ally in repairing the damage he inflicted on myheart.
“What happens if I do?” Hugo asks a short time later, tilting his torso closer to me. “What happens if Itickleyou?”
I swallow, relieving my parched throat from the seductive purr of hisvoice.
“I’ll… I’ll--”Come onbrain!
A crass grin morphs onto my lips. “I’ll use this against you,” I say, yanking the drill off the dentist chair we are kneelingnextto.
All the color drains from Hugo’s face when the sound of a dentist drill breaks the silence between us. His widened eyes dart between the functioning drill vibrating in my hand and my leering face.I’ve got him exactly where Iwanthim.
Right before my eyes, the fretful mask Hugo is wearing slips off his face. “It will be worth it,” he says with a wink before divingatme.
Before I have the chance to react, I'm pinned to the ground by Hugo’s large frame and subjected to his tortuous, tinkling hands. I squeal a window-shattering scream as his hands unleash a torrent of tickles on my ribs and stomach. Tears stream down my flushed cheeks as I buck and wail against him. But no matter how hard I fight, a woman of my size is no match for a beast of a manlikeHugo.
“Mercy!” I try to scream, but I can barely breathe, let alonespeak.
