Page 70 of Play Dirty

“We’ll divide and conquer. I can take Martin on the rides that you can’t and then I’ll sit in the kids’ pool with Bradley if you want to take Martin or Emma on the ones you’re able to. Besides, then they’ll be super tired and go to bed early.” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully and he laughs.

“You’ve convinced me.”

We drive back to his house, and he frowns as we pull up to the driveway.

“Whose car is that?” I ask, noting the blue sedan parked there.

“It’s Mommy’s!” Martin chirps.

Marty whips his head around. “Mommy isn’t coming for five more days,” he says, narrowing his gaze slightly.

Martin giggles. “She told me last night it was a surprise and that she would see me today! Can she come to the water park with us?”

Marty’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, obviously trying to hide his annoyance.

“I don’t think so, buddy, but we’ll see.” He glances at me and then pulls into the garage.

“Did you change the locks?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “She moved to Tennessee—I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“If she snooped…” My voice trails because I’m sure he remembers that we left a package of lube on the nightstand—we’ve never needed it, but he always has it. Not to mention all the condoms in the trash.

A regular person would never dream of digging through that stuff but as a woman, I know damn well if someone like her in the middle of a divorce would want to see what Marty’s been up to, if she had the opportunity.

Marty gets out of the SUV and lifts Bradley out of his car seat as I help Emma out of hers. Martin can undo the seatbelt himself these days, and he’s down, running for the door to the kitchen before we can stop him.

Marty and I lock gazes across the top of the car, and he says, “Don’t worry—I’ll take care of it,” before following Marin.

“Mommy!” We hear Martin’s squeal of joy, and I mentally brace myself.

This is the drama Marty wanted to spare me, so I know what I signed up for, but I’m not particularly excited about Brenna potentially making a scene. They’re legally separated so we’re not doing anything wrong, but my gut tells me she won’t be happy that the man she cheated on is now dating a supermodel. I’m not being vain or trying to toot my own horn—Marty knows my shortcomings—but from the outside looking in, who wants to be replaced by a supermodel?

“Brenna.” Marty doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance. “You’re supposed to call before you come over. You don’t live here anymore.”

She laughs. “This is where my kids are, why wouldn’t I just come in? And we’re going to spend a few days in L.A. seeing old friends, so why wouldn’t I stop by and see my babies?”

We?

That means Philippe is with her.

Yikes. I hope he’s not here, in the house.

Marty hates him so that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Brenna’s attractive in her own way, with blonde hair that falls to her shoulders in what people might describe as beach waves, a cute sundress, and low-heeled sandals. She freezes when she spots me, her eyes widening in what I’m sure is recognition.

“Who are you?” she demands, frowning.

“Hi. I’m Stevie. You must be Brenna.”

She scowls and turns to Marty. “What is she doing here?”

“None of your business.” He perches against the kitchen island. “We’re divorced, remember?”

“Not yet!” she shoots back.

“What? What’s good for the goose isn’t good for the gander?” he asks dryly.

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