Page 97 of The Single Dads Club
But my annoyance evaporates when I find Corrigan on my porch.
“Hi,” she says, holding up a large shopping bag. “Sorry for not texting or anything, but I just saw this at the store and I thought it would be great for Grier.” She looks around me, scanning the dim living room. “Where is she? Did you put her to bed early?”
“She’s having a sleepover at Mom’s tonight.” I take the bag and look at the box inside. It holds a tiny stepstool with an attached potty seat, bright purple and decorated with dancing cartoon monsters in a rainbow of colors.
“I figured she’s about the right age to start potty training soon, so I thought it’d be useful to help her climb up there.” Corrigan smiles.
“Wow, thank you. This’ll make my life a lot easier—and the design’s just the kind of thing she loves.” How like Corrigan to buy a gift both cute and practical. I try not to read too much into the fact that she was clearly thinking of me, as well as Grier. “How much do I owe you?”
She holds up her hand. “No way, don’t even think about trying to pay me back. Count it toward Grier’s next birthday or something.” Her gaze flicks over my shoulder again. “What’re you watching?”
“Terminal Honor 3. Just a dumb action flick, but it’s not the kind of thing I can watch with Grier around, and I figured it’d go well with bourbon.” An idea pops into my head, and I voice it before common sense can ruin it. “Want to join me?”
She considers, then slowly says, “You know what ... why the hell not?”
After stashing her gift in the dining room, I pour an extra drink and set it on the coffee table, then sit down next to her on the sofa.
And from that moment on, I do not retain a single goddamn thing about this movie. I’m far too painfully aware of the exact distance between us, the occasional faint whiffs of sweet floral shampoo I catch, how her tight leggings show off every curve of her ass and those long legs, and how fucking badly I need to touch her.
“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice like honey. “I dare you to drink every time something blows up.”
I snort. “We playing truth or dare now?”
“No, inventing a drinking game. I’ll do it too.” She raises a challenging brow in my direction.
How can a guy say no to that? “You’re on.”
As if on cue, a car explodes into an inferno. She laughs, and we each knock back a sip.
Long before the movie is over, I realize two very important things. One, that we’ll both probably be dead if we keep this game up. And two, bourbon does fuck-all to distract me from Corrigan’s unfair sex appeal. The stirring in my pants is a testament to that fact.
“Hey, do you want to play truth or dare for real?”
She blinks at me, then laughs. “Is this high school?”
“You can always say no.”
“Hmm ... sure. Sounds fun.” She rearranges herself on the sofa, this time facing me, one leg tucked under her. “Truth or dare?”
I rub my chin, which by this late hour feels like sandpaper. “I choose ... truth.”
She punishes me with an exaggerated frown. “Wuss. Okay, let me think.” She considers for a while. “What’s your biggest turn-on?”
Every single thing about you.“It’s a tie between nice legs and dirty talk.”
She gives me a look. “Come on, that’s it?”
“You didn’t ask me to write a novel.” I chuckle. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she says primly.
“Hey, you can’t criticize me for choosing truth and then choose the same thing.”
Her only response is to stick her tongue out at me. Call me crazy, but even that I find sexy. I can’t help but wonder if I kissed her right now, if she’d taste like bourbon.
Searching for a suitable revenge, I ask, “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”
“That’s easy,” she immediately says. “As a student teacher, I called one kid the wrong name for a month, and when he got up the courage to correct me, I automatically said, ‘Oh shit, I’m so sorry,’ in front of a whole class of first gradersandmy mentor.”
