Busted, baby.
I guess I feel relieved that Brooke knows I'm not actually a nanny, but at this point the chances of getting her to relax and fall into bed with me again are pretty slim. Oh well. I peel some chewing gum out of what little hair this ugly gray and white dog has around its neck and give Kinzie a look on her perch atop the fuzzy pink toilet seat.
“Dude, you are so in much freaking trouble right now.”
“You're going to the H-place for licking other grown-up's privates in the shower. God doesn't approve of that. That's what Shiela told me.”
“Um, what? That's weirdly specific.” I stand up and wad the gum up between my fingers. Fuckin' gross, man. “Where did you hear that?”
“I saw mom and dad doing that in the shower when they thought I was sleeping. I picked the lock and everything.”
I try not to be really disturbed by that, but shit. I'm creeped the hell out.
“Okay, stop picking locks on the bathroom door unless an adult asks for your help getting the twins out. People deserve privacy in the bathroom, Kinzie.” She kicks the wall hard and I grab my cell, clutching it tight in the hand that's not covered in gum and holding it out like a weapon. “I'm restarting the time-out clock. Every time you kick or hit or scream or spit, I restart it. How many minutes you trying for here, sweetheart? A world record?”
Kinzie turns away from me as I head into the kitchen to extract the gum from my hand. It's like, seriously stuck. Takes some hardcore scraping to get that off. I've noticed that with everything the kids spit out, like it's all glued to whatever it lands on. Even the baby has that special ability. How that's bloody possible is beyond me.
I grab a dish towel and head back into the kitchen, taking in the four kids that are seated around the TV, eyes glued to the flickering screen like it's made of pixie dust. It's definitely easier to park them in front of it and let the boob tube do the babysitting for me, but I feel kind of bad about it. Maybe I should, like, try to do an activity with them or something?
“Hey Google,” I start, lifting my phone up to my lips. “How do you make cookies?”
“Cookies!” Bella says, her head whipping away from the TV and over to me. She pushes herself off the couch and bounces over to stand in front of me, her long dark hair and pale brown eyes making her look like a miniature Brooke. Staring at her like that makes me a little curious about what it would be like to have kids with somebody, make my own mini me. Or maybe I'm specifically fantasizing about what it would be like to make mini Brookes. Oh yeah. I haven't forgotten the feel of her body beneath me, writhing and moaning, those small noises in her throat, those frantic breaths like the beating of a bird's wing.
Hmm.
Maybe I do sort of give a crap if she fucks me again. Because I really want to fuck her. I need to make this happen.
“I'm on my way out,” Brooke says, appearing at the bottom of the stairs in a long black trench coat à la an old western movie or something. I smile at her total lack of style—and then start getting real, real curious about what's under that thing. “Do you need anything before I go?” she asks, her pale eyes like hazelnuts. Good enough to eat. I smile. I think I actually kind of miss the big thick black hipster glasses.
“We're making cookies!” Bella says, drawing those candy twins my way. Mike and Ike bounce and scream and hang off my pant legs.
Brooke raises an eyebrow at me. God I want to pierce her so bad. I grin and try not to let myself get caught up in the pun.
“Do you actually know how to bake?” I lift my phone and wiggle it at her.
“I got Google, like I said. How hard can it be?”
“Oookay,” she says, making me ten times as sure that I've gotta do this. I have to prove this chick wrong. “I better get going.”
“One second,” I say, peeling a twin off my leg and depositing him on the couch. I seriously have no idea which one of my nephews is Mike and which one's Ike. “Go watch TV for, like, five more minutes while I get everything set up.”
The kids scurry away like ants as I gesture for Brooke to follow me outside for a minute, scooting heaps of chihuahuas away with my foot as I step onto the deck.
“What's up?” Brooke asks as I move over to the right side of the deck, out of view of the children. Before she can get all logistical up in that crazy head of hers, I grab her jacket by the front and gently push her back into the wall, drawing a sharp gasp from those pretty lips. Her makeup's perfect, but I figure better for me than for those assholes at the club.
I lean in and kiss her hard, slipping my tongue into her mouth on the tail end of another gasp. The way her breath rushes around my mouth makes it hard to concentrate as my hands drop and undo a few of the top buttons on the coat. My fingers slip inside and find a lacy teddy and a slim waist, a warm and willing softness that leans into me with little prompting.