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He pushed off the door, smirking. “Rookie error, Kali.”
“What is?”
“What you should have said is you’ll bring it up every time I make you blush. Now, I’ll keep making you blush, and just not mention it.”
My lips parted. “No, wait. That’s not fair!”
He went to step out of the door, then stopped. “You promised. You can’t take it back. Oh, and by the way? I dreamed of you naked in my bed last night.”
I gasped, moving forward to be on my hands and knees as if I were going to chase him.
“What a coincidence.” He smirked. “You were just like that.”
I dropped back onto my knees immediately. “You rotten bastard!” I snapped through the burning of my cheeks.
He winked, and, on that note, left, shouting for the kids to find their shoes.
I stared after him for the longest moment.
That sounded like a war declaration to me.
My lips curved.
If you can’t beat them…
Torture them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Look, I didn’t mean to go home and get changed.
Well, not entirely. It hadn’t been my initial idea, but when I’d built the main structure of the closet and only had to add in the rail and the shelves, and Brantley still wasn’t back, I made a flash choice around lunchtime.
In my defense, he’d started it. He was the one who’d declared war upon me and my blushing.
Yeah. He’d started it, and I was ready to finish it.
I adjusted my bra and glanced at my legs. This skirt was basically indecent—like hotpants but without the stretch of denim covering your vagina. I hoped like hell I wouldn’t have to bend over around the kids.
Jesus, that would scar the poor things for life.
I slotted the rail into Ellie’s closet and took a step back. The doors were open, but the pink and white closet was every little girl’s dream. Complete with custom handles in the shape of a tiara. She was going to freak the hell out when she got back and saw this.
I closed the doors and gave it a push across the floor so it was against the wall. I blew out a heavy sigh, then turned my attention to the mess of packaging. My Spotify playlist ticked over to the next song, and I hummed along as the familiar tune of Ed Sheeran’s Galway Girl filled the room.
It made the clean-up a little better. I just wasn’t going to hold an impromptu concert this time…just in case.
The last thing I needed was for Brantley to come in and see me using a screwdriver as a microphone this time.
With all the trash sorted and in the opposite corner, I headed downstairs to the garage and found the box that had Ellie’s drawers. I would build her furniture first, and get her room ready except for the bed before turning my attention to Eli’s.
The box was lighter than the closet, and I was able to move it myself. I heaved it upstairs into her room and set it down. I glanced around for my pocketknife to slice it open, humming along to another Ed Sheeran song I didn’t know the title of. I found it in the trash in the corner of the room, grabbed it, and kneeled down to open the box.
“Jesus!”
My hand slipped in shock and I sliced my finger open.
“Shit!” I immediately dropped the knife and brought my finger to my mouth. “Ouch!” I mumbled against my finger.
“Oh, shit.” Brantley crossed the room in two quick strides. “I was about to tell you to warn a guy you’re wearing next to nothing, but never mind. Let me look.”
I shook my head and pulled my finger out of my mouth. “It’s fine. It’s not deep. It’ll stop bleeding in a minute.”
It really, really fucking hurt, though.
“Let me see.” He grabbed my wrist and looked. “That’s not going to stop by itself.”
“How do you know?” I brought it back to my mouth.
He met my eyes and said dryly, “I have a four-year-old son. I’ve seen more cuts and scrapes than you can imagine. Come downstairs and I’ll get the First Aid kit.”
“It’s fine,” I mumbled against my skin. “Really, it’s my own fault.”
“I won’t argue with that.” He stood. “Come on.”
I sighed and followed him. Maybe he was right—my finger was showing no signs of slowing down its bleeding.
Just great.
“Oh no,” Eli breathed, sitting at the kitchen table with apple slices. “Do you had a booboo?”
I grimaced in pain and nodded. “Yep. Opening a box.”
“Opening a box?” Ellie asked, her voice getting higher at the end. “How do you cut yourself opening a box?”
“When your daddy starts shouting in the doorway and scares me,” I answered honestly.
“Oh, Daddy!” Ellie stared at him. “Look what you did to Kawi.”
Brantley froze, plastic tub in hand. “I didn’t do anything. If I knew she had a knife in her hand, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
