Page 29 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

“Have you heard anything about how the surgery went?”

Shaking my head, I check my phone again. “Oh, there’s a text from my dad now.” Reading quickly through it, I blow out a sigh. “She’s out of surgery, in recovery, everything went fine. He’s going to stay at a hotel in Albany since it’s so late and drive back tomorrow.”

“I’m glad she’s okay.”

“It is a relief.” I look around at the kitchen, which Avery has straightened up in addition to doing the dishes. On top of making dinner for my kids and caring for them at the drop of a hat. “Anyway, I’m sorry if my dad imposed on you. Maybe it’s time to find some childcare backup.”

“Not an imposition at all. We had a great time.”

The adrenaline that’s been coursing through my body since I got the first message that there’d been an accident—eerily similar to the one I got when Lisa was killed—suddenly drains away. I can actually feel it leaving my bloodstream, and I suddenly feel like I could sleep for a week.

“Well, I guess I’ll just head out,” Avery says.

Blinking heavily, it takes me a moment to realize that she’s at the kitchen door, bag over her shoulder. I follow, intending to walk her to her car, but when she turns around, I end up grasping her shoulders to keep from plowing her over.

Aaand we’re right back where we were a week ago. Knowing I shouldn’t, I let my hands skate down her arms and lean down until I can feel her breath tease my lips. Hovering there, I give her the opportunity to bail, but she meets me instead.

“Thank god,” I mutter between urgent kisses. “I was worried that I’d never get to do this again.”

She doesn’t say anything, just wraps her arms around my neck and threads her fingers into the hair at my nape. My hands continue to roam, needing to feel as much of her as I can. When I palm her butt cheeks and squeeze, she moans into my mouth, the vibration reverberating down to my toes.

“If things were different,” I murmur, running my fingers through cornsilk hair.

“What would you do?” She presses closer, breasts I’m dying to caress flattening against my chest. “If things were different?”

“I wouldn’t let you leave.”

“How deeply do your kids sleep?” she whispers.

Shit.I completely forgot about my kids. Which is why this is such a bad idea. Stepping away feels wrong, but my frontal lobe—for better or for worse, I’m honestly not sure at this moment—takes over and I force my body away from hers. “Not deeply at all.”

An expression I can’t quite identify crosses her face, but before I can say anything that would make her feel better, she nods briskly. “I’ll see you in class, then.”

Before she makes it out the door, however, she slaps her forehead. “Oh fudge. The car seats are still in my car.”

We make it out the door without kissing or colliding again, but it takes everything in me to stay away from her perfectly rounded ass as she wiggles and twists her torso into the back seat of her two-door sedan. “How’d you even get them in there?”

When she re-emerges with the booster seat, she’s laughing, like the last eight hours have been a fun adventure for her, rather than a total pain in the ass. “There was some colorful swearing from your dad, to be sure. I think he owes Mabel about twenty bucks.”

As I take it from her, I do my best to focus on her words rather than the inviting lips they issue from. “So, um, what is it with you and the fake curse words, anyway?”

She laughs again, a sound so soft and inviting, I want to clutch it to me like Percy’s blankie. “Believe me, I used to swear like a sailor. Especially when I got mad.”

I have a hard time picturing either of those things, but I just ask, “What changed?”

Her expression shifts, but in the dim light it’s hard to read. “My mom really needed me to take over Playgroup, but she was worried about what she called my ‘potty mouth.’”

“So you just quit? Like cold turkey?”

She snorts. “Believe me. It was as hard as I can imagine quitting smoking would be.”

I lean closer. “So a four-letter word never passes your lips?”

“I’d say I’m in control of it.” Lips I want to taste again twist in a crooked grin. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, anyway.”

Now all I can think of is making her lose that control, but that cannot happen in my parents’ driveway, so I just nod and gesture to her car door. “Do you want me to unhook Percy’s? Those things can be tricky, in all fairness to my dad.”

“Nah, I got it.” She waits a beat, like maybe she’s struggling too, before reaching in to release the car seat like she does this every day.

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