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“Use a timer for Charlotte and see if you can’t make it a game.”
“What?”
Addy stood and gave him another glimpse of thigh.
Thank you, dear Lord, for that small gift.
“Brushing her teeth. I have a funny chicken timer you can use. Set it for a minute and make it a game.”
“That will work?”
Addy shrugged. “Worked for my youngest sister. She hated brushing her teeth. Now she’s a junior in dental school.”
Lucas followed Addy to the kitchen, trying to control the impulse to grab her, whirl her around, and kiss the devil out of her. He craved her mouth. Wanted to touch her, hold her.
“Here,” Addy said, plopping a chicken timer into his hand totally destroying his visions of kissing her. Chicken timers had a way of curbing horniness.
Or maybe it was Aunt Flora and Charlotte sitting at a retro silver table happily discussing cookies dissolving the desire.
The kitchen was pleasantly old-fashioned with white tiled counters and a black-and-white-patterned floor. Touches of red and yellow dotted the decorating palate, giving a homey feel to the industrial stainless appliances that were very much of this century. A comfortable place as evidenced by Charlotte’s swinging legs and chocolate-smeared face.
“I don’t wanna leave yet,” Charlotte said.
Addy squatted down, tucking the terrycloth against her behind. Damn, she was sexy as hell in that raggedy bathrobe.
Lucas had to turn away to contemplate something besides the curvy brunette with her sexy bare feet and delicate wrists. He needed to get a grip… or get laid.
He really didn’t know what was wrong with him. He wasn’t a teenager. Not even close.
“You must go home so you can come again. Uncle Lucas said you can come over and play with me tomorrow afternoon,” said Addy.
He studied the badly painted rooster perched upon the cabinet.
Okay, Luke ol’ boy, think about the dog piss. Or the overflowing garbage can you forgot to set out at the curb. Or the claws of the Wicked Cat of the West sinking into your balls.Yeah. That worked… since he’d actually felt that the night before.
“I’ll come back tomorrow. For a cookie,” Charlotte said.
Lucas heard the chair scrape against the kitchen tile and turned. Charlotte slid from the chair and wrapped her arms around Addy’s neck.
“Good girl,” Addy murmured, catching his gaze and giving him a little wink.
And something warm moved inside him.
Lucas Finlay was a man who didn’t want to feel little plinks near his ticker. Love or anything near it wasn’t something he wanted cluttering up the clear horizon in his life.
“Let’s go home, Charlotte.”
The little girl looked up at him. “It’s not your home, Uncle Wucas.”
Damn sure wasn’t. Another reason why he shouldn’t get too chummy with his neighbor.
Addy placed the freesia between the stargazer lilies and squinted. Too much? Or just right?
“About to deliver the bouquets for the Richard wedding. Are there any deliveries you need made downtown? I’ll be down that way,” Shelia Guillory asked as she hefted the long and slender box containing the bridal bouquet and walked toward the back door.
“Nope. Slow day for flowers.”
“About time. We’ve been busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest,” her assistant and sometimes delivery person said with a chuff of relief. “Valentine’s Day nearly did me in.”
