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Wait, what?
She gestures to my fly. “Guess even the most expensive suits have their flaws, hmm?” she says with an outrageous little giggle as my hand flies to my crotch and I feel the zipper hanging low.
“Christ,” I mutter, and she takes the opportunity to duck under my arm and run toward Toni’s room. I swing my palm towards her gorgeous ass but miss by about a mile, making her snort with laughter.
But when she reaches Toni’s room, she tries the handle, then blanches when the doorknob doesn’t turn.
“Thought you’d get away that easily, did you?” I ask, after zipping up my fucking fly. I stalk toward her again, this time my intent clear. She looks around me, as if trying to find another escape route, but the only one at this point is my bedroom.
“We shouldn’t let her lock the door,” she says.
Right. The kid.
I take in a deep breath, though I like that she said we.
Like this is teamwork. And I like that. She isn’t leaving me to handle this all by myself, and God if I don’t love that.
I sigh. Game over. “Good call.”
She lifts her hand and knocks.
“Toni, open this door, please.”
“Why?” the little voice on the other side of the door says.
Samantha turns to me in surprise.
“Because I said so,” I say in a voice three times louder than Samantha’s.
“Wow, that’s original.”
“You’ve got a better line?”
She nods and raises her voice. “My house, my rules!” She looks to me, then shakes her head. “Erm, sorry about that.” She shouts again. “His house, his rules!”
“I want some privacy,” Toni says.
“You can have some privacy, but we need to make sure you’re safe,” Samantha begins.
“I’m safe!”
“You don’t owe her an explanation.”
“Yeah, because bossing kids around always works great, doesn’t it?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never had a kid.” The words bring home to me how out of my element I really am, and I don’t like it. I shrug.
“I don’t want to,” Toni says. “I want to be alone.”
“It isn’t safe,” Samantha says.
I’m not above a threat. “Open the door, or no dessert tonight.” I turn to Samantha and at the look on her face I whisper, “Was that better?” It was pretty lame,. I don’t think I even have any dessert in the house.
Samantha shakes her head. “God,” she hisses. “No dessert? That’s like one grade below threatening a spanking, which I think is probably illegal.”
I shake my head, unable to stop myself. “The only one in danger of getting a spanking is you, but I’ll make sure you like it.”
Her jaw drops. She blinks. “I can’t believe you just said that,” she hisses. Then she looks thoughtful. “Though… I mean, I won’t say the thought doesn’t—” She shakes her head. “Jesus, would you focus on the task at hand, please? Honest to God, you men are all alike!”
Nice try, Sam. Nice try.
She turns back to the door. “Toni, you unlock this door, or I’m taking Prince home with me.”
“So I can’t take dessert away but you can take the dog? Explain that logic to me.”
Toni replies before Samantha can. “How are you going to do that? Prince is in here with me.”
We look at each other, chagrined. Dammit.
“I can’t believe we’re letting a seven-year-old best us,” she mutters.
I sigh. “It’s unchartered territory. An unknown enemy.”
“She isn’t an enemy! How could you call a child an enemy!”
“Relax, Samantha, it’s metaphorical.”
We stand there in silence for a moment. I notice the way her hair smells, like freshly cut roses, and the way she tugs on a lock of it as she thinks this over.
“What I mean is,” I try a second time, “we’re inexperienced. We’ll get the hang of this.”
It’s a little strange how I’ve just sort of lumped the two of us together in this, but I couldn’t help it. We will.
She tries again to cajole Toni, but it’s no use. The kid’s stubborn. It’ll take her far in life, but she’s got to tame that will. I ought to know.
“Don’t you have a key or something?”
I stroke my chin thoughtfully. Her eyes are glued to my fingers grazing over my stubble. I should probably get my mind out of the gutter, but I can’t help but imagine the way she’d react with my stubble on her thighs…
“Now that you mention it, I think I do. At the very least I have some tools, could unscrew the damn thing.”
She nods, all business. “Let’s do it.”
I grab my toolbox from downstairs, and head back up to Sam. I don’t want to get this shirt sweaty or dirty, so at the top of the stairs, I unbutton it and take it off, stripping down to a T-shirt.
“You’re only unfastening a doorknob,” she says, though she swallows hard after she says it. “No need to strip.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not stripping,” I tell her, kneeling in front of the door to get to work. “But you’re welcome to if you’d like.”
