Page 74 of The Art of Being Merry
“Sure. Tell her I’ll Venmo her.”
“Will do. When will you be home?”
“Just have to get dressed and I’m on my way.”
The moment the words “get dressed” exit my mouth, I cringe. No way she’s going to miss them, and she’s the one who can spin a tale at the drop of a hat. I suck at coming up with excuses to cover up my lies.
“Get dressed?” she squeals. “Where exactly did you say you were?”
“I, uh, didn’t.” So much guilt in my tone. Caught again, of my own doing.
“How about we talk about it when we’re both at your house and the boys are in bed?”
“Pfft. As if I’m going to tell you.” The more I keep talking, the more ammunition I give her.
“See you soon, Clem.” The line cuts off.
“Super. Now I’ve got to come up with a believable excuse for why I’m out, not dressed, and needed a babysitter.” I look up to find Dax leaning against the doorjamb, a smirk playing on his lips. He’s dressed in a T-shirt and gray sweatpants, as if I need more temptation. “Not what I’d consider funny.”
He motions me over with a crook of his finger. BecauseI’m in deep with this man, I go willingly. “You look edible in only my towel.”
I stop when I’m about a foot away from him. It’s too tempting to be very close to his personal space. “Not helping,” I grit out.
“Just stating a fact. But also, I can help you out of your predicament.”
My eyes narrow, zeroing in on his face. “How?” Can’t wait to hear his suggestion.
“Mention something about a dressing room. Like you were trying on clothes, hence the whole having to ‘get dressed.’” He puts my words in air quotes, but damn if his reason doesn’t make complete sense.
“That’s ingenious. You come up with that on the fly?”
His arms cross against his chest, drawing my attention to the way it highlights his biceps. “Not my first rodeo about having to think quickly to cover up for where I am or what I’m doing.”
“Ah. Yeah, I’d bet.”
His hands quickly grab my hips, heaving me closer to him,near enough to enjoy the cotton aroma overpowering the grease today. His jaw clenches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Agreeing with you about it not being your first time. I don’t need to know or think about the reasons. I’m grateful you’re a quick thinker because I wouldn’t have come up with something so brilliant.” Like earlier with my sister, my words play right into his hands.
“Brilliant, huh?” His hands find my ass and squeeze. When I try to pull out of his grip—I don’t have time for this—he holds tighter.
“I said what I said,” I grumble. “Feel free to write it down to memorialize it. It might be a one-off.”
He processes my statement for a long minute and then boops my nose. “Challenge accepted, Clementine. I’ll show you how brilliant I can be.”
“Ah, great. Another time. I’ve got kids to get home to and a sister who’s probably foaming at the mouth to know where I’m at.”
“At the mall, trying on clothes.”
It’s my turn to take a minute to comprehend his words. When the meaning fully sinks in, I laugh. “Right. Old Navy’s a specific place she’d believe I’d shop. They got that at the mall?”
“Yep, but I was thinking you were at, say, Victoria’s Secret.”
My gasp nearly chokes me. “Dax Nicholas. Get your head out of the gutter."
His scrutiny zips up and down me. “Get my head out of the gutter?” he sputters. “You’re the one standing here naked in my towel.”
“Not for long. Must get dressed and be on my way home.” I try to sidestep him, but his arms wrap around me, pulling me into him and lifting me. “Dax. I don’t have time for this.” I peer at him from my vantage point in the air.
