Page 42 of Naughty-ish

“What time is it?” Nick sits up, scratching underneath his chin. The scruff along his throat appears to have thickened overnight. Hair sticks up on one side of his head. He’s adorably sleepy and I want to crawl back into our little cocoon of blankets, but I can’t.

I need to figure out how to get over there from here without my ex or my kids catching me.

“Early.” Damn Mitch. He’s done it again, bringing the kids home before his time ends. “I don’t know what to do.”

Nick shifts, lifting his legs and spreading his bent knees to balance his arms over them. “Act like you came over to borrow sugar.”

“What?” In a red dress meant for seduction?

“Put your shoes and your coat on. Button up. I’ll get some sugar. Pretend like it just happened.” His eyes harden a bit at the lie I need to act out, but I don’t have a choice. My kids are heading for my house, and I’m not home when my SUV is clearly in the driveway.

I rush for my heels, slipping into them with a groan. I don’t wear such high shoes anymore. Reaching for my coat, I shrug it on and button it up. Mitch won’t know the walk of shame I’ve got going on underneath which is a man’s T-shirt and my underwear.

While I hustle to dress, Nick slowly rises and enters his kitchen, returning with a small package of sugar. “Take the whole thing.”

“You’re an angel,” I groan, hastily turning for the door, but Nick catches my arm and I spin to face him. His hands cup my jaw. The kiss is sizzling hot, and I wish I could stay longer.

“I’ve got to go,” I mumble against his tempting mouth.

“But I want you to stay.” He chuckles as he releases me and then follows me to the door.

When I step out, I expect Nick to shut the door behind me, but he doesn’t. He steps onto his front stoop, bare foot and bare chested despite the sharp December temperature.

“Mommy,” Nash calls out, sweet and excited as he sees me crossing Nick’s small yard for our shared driveway.

“Hey baby. Just getting some sugar from the neighbor.” I lift the bag as proof of my mission, fighting the heat that rushes up my neck and flames my cheeks.

Mitch narrows his eyes, watching me wobble in my heels. I’m walking through the thin layer of freshly fallen snow.

My ex might have been an attractive man at one point, but all his good looks vanished the moment he cheated on me. Standing in jeans and a puffy winter coat, with a questioning expression on his clean-shaven face, he’s just a man.

“What do we need sugar for?” Eloise asks, as all three of them wait for me on my front stoop.

“Cookies.” My answer is a little too enthusiastic and not at all what I’d planned to do today. But suddenly, Christmas cookies are on the agenda.

“Is Nick going to make cookies with us?” Nash asks, excited by the prospect.

“Oh. Uh, I’m sure he has other things to do today.” I glance over my shoulder to see my neighbor still standing on his stoop, leaning casually against the railing, watching me.

“Mitch, you remember Nick, right?” I brusquely point in Nick’s direction.

“Yeah, no.” His squinty glare turns toward the man next door.

“Well, he lent me some sugar.” I hold the bag up again as if Mitch hadn’t already seen it. “You’re back early.” I bite back the venom I want to spew at my ex for his blatant disregard for our schedule. I’m not upset to see my kids early, but it’s upsetting that their father doesn’t spend his maximum time with them.

“Paige wasn’t feeling well.”

“Christmas is too exciting for her,” Eloise mumbles, sarcasm lacing her eight-year-old voice, proof she doesn’t believe whatever that statement is meant to mean.

I don’t care one fig for Paige or her Christmas excitement, or lack thereof. “Okay, well. The kids are home now, so . . .” Piss off, I want to say but I bite my tongue.

“See you Christmas morning,” Mitch says, as if confirming with me what’s been set in stone since our signatures dried on the divorce papers.

“The kids have their Christmas musical on Thursday night,” I remind him, which is something he’s needed reminding of three times now in the same number of weeks.

“Right.” He nods once, signifying he isn’t going to remember, which means he might not show up. However, I won’t confront him in front of the kids. I just want him gone and I sneak a peek in the direction of the house next door where the owner has returned to the warmth of his home.

A cold gust of air rushes up my coat and I shiver.