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I give Willow a wink as I take a swig from a water bottle. This seems to be enough to appease the girl, and she returns to her coloring book. “And then what happened, Mommy?”
Clara blushes. It’s definitely not from the heat; her eyes are wide as she watches me watch her.
“Oh, well… um… Right.” She turns back to Willow and simultaneously moves to the microwave, spraying the inside with a cleaning solution. “Well, a promise was a promise. And even though she lived with him, she still needed to kiss him.”
Interesting.
Willow darts a glance up at me and giggles again. “But he’s a frog!”
Ah. That one.
Clara laughs as she scrubs. “Yes, he is. But she made a promise and a promise can’t be broken. So it doesn’t matter if he’s a frog, or a toad, or a super warty gremlin with horns—if she promised to give him a kiss for helping her, that’s what she needed to do.”
“Ew.” The kid scrunches her face in playful disgust. “I wouldn’t kiss a frog.”
“I don’t blame you,” I rumble. Clara nearly smacks her head against the microwave door when she hears me chime in. “Some frogs are venomous. You wouldn’t want to kiss those.”
Willow’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Really?”
I nod and pull out a tub of cookie dough ice cream. “Really. They live deep in the rainforest, and they wear bright colors so you know not to touch them.”
“That issocool!”
“It’s usually the prettiest frogs who’ll do the most damage,” Clara murmurs.
I narrow my eyes at her. She notices. Her guard was already up, but now, that wall is sky-high. She’s instantly finding nonexistent grime to wipe up on the kitchen island.
I recognize that maneuver for what it is: she’s planting herself squarely between her daughter and the big, bad, venomous frog currently digging through the fridge for some goddamned chocolate syrup.
I saunter over to the island and set my armful of junk food down. Willow eyes the tub of ice cream, darting her hungry stare between it and her mother. I don’t bother looking at Clara—I feel her stiffen at my close proximity to her.
And, as luck would have it, the bowls and spoons are inside the drawer right in front of where she’s standing.
“So, what happened next?” I ask coolly.
“Yeah, Mommy! Tell us!”
Clara continues wiping at the same spot on the counter while she tries to gather her composure. “Well, one day…”
I stop paying attention to the story and crouch down to get into the cupboard in front of her legs. Her beautiful, smooth, silky legs are bare from ankle to mid-thigh thanks to the housekeeping uniform she’s wearing.
If it weren’t for the kid, I’d make her wear a French maid’s costume instead, underwear not included. But I have to settle for the fact that I’m at least able to wrap my hand around her bare thigh as I dig around for the bowls.
I find them almost immediately.
But I also find myself unable to pry my fingers from her skin.
My hand strokes a slow, languid path from the side of her knee to just below the juncture of her thighs and right when I’m about to tease my fingertips over that sweet center?—
Clara snaps her legs shut. My hand is trapped between her thighs, and not in the way I’d prefer.
I look up at her. She’s doing her damned hardest to pretend like nothing’s happening. She hides the sudden waver in her voicewith a cough, then another clearing of her throat that actually sounds like a warning.
I grab the bowls with my other hand and stand back up—but not before pulling my hand from those creamy thighs and trailing my fingers over the sweet curve of her ass.Underher skirt.
Clara shoots me a look while clearing her throat again. I frown back at her. “Need some water?”
“I got it!” Willow cheerfully hops off her chair and skips over to the fridge to grab a fresh bottle for her mother.
