11. Jedd
JEDD
“A little to the left …” I coach Piper, who’s laying down in the entry way to the kitchen between the living room and dining area. She scoots a smidge and pulls the trigger on the dart gun.
It smacks into the bullseye of the target I put at the top of the door.
“Perfect,” I crow.
She pops up to her knees and does a shoulder shaking, butt wiggling boogie. “I’m the best!”
I ruffle her curls. “You are. Now to set this puppy up and wait.”
Hefting the two-pound balloon filled with shaving cream, water, and glitter, I shake it in her direction. The liquid inside jiggles, and there’s the barest hint of shimmer in the swirling mixture.
Is pranking her at the end of a stressful day the smartest thing a man in my position could do? Nope.
Am I still doing it anyway?
Yep.
And now that glitter is back on the table after she firebombed me with it last week …
An evil grin covers my face.
The fact that I recruited her niece to help me is icing on the cake.
I nearly blurted out my plan to her when she was in my arms after breaking down outside the courthouse. Nearly begged her to let me help in the only way I know how. When I saw a sliver of everything I’ve felt for the woman enter her own gaze, I pulled back before ruining everything.
But now?
I’m going to make my move. It could backfire in my face, but I’m tired of suppressing myself when it comes to her.
What started out as a harebrained idea to help her win her custody case has now developed into the ultimate plan to win her over.
And if she feels even a little bit for me of what I feel for her …
I’ve got this in the bag.
Just as I finish tacking the balloon above the door, I hear the rumble of her beast of a Jeep pull in and park.
“Quick! To your battle station.”
Piper drops to the floor with the same dart gun I’ve had since winning it at the county fair in third grade and aims it above the door just like I showed her.
I wipe an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud. Okay. Hold steady,” I say as the Jeep’s engine cuts off and I listen for the creak of the porch slat that needs to be replaced.
Seconds later, the porch squeaks and the doorknob turns. I shout, “Now, Pipsqueak.”
We couldn’t have choreographed it better. The dart shoots out of the end of the gun and slams into the balloon—popping it.
Splat!
The thinned shaving cream and water mixture plummets in a messy wet gloop, covering Andy in a sparkly sludge.
She freezes in the doorway.
I pull the canisters out of my back pockets and hand the blue one I already loosened to Piper. We jog toward Andy, whose eyes are pinched shut.
With a quick twist of our wrists, paper confetti shoots out of the canisters and sticks to Andy. Piper dives for the wicker basket at the end of the coffee table and throws me an aluminum can.
We press the nozzles at the same time, each of us emptying a can of silly string on the party supply swamp creature that is Andy just as she opens her eyes.
Once our canisters are empty, I swoop Piper up and take a couple of steps back as she roars with laughter.
“We got you so good, Aunt Andy,” she crows in premature victory.
She is absolutely coated. I can’t see a strand of red hair through the mess, and I have to bite back my howls of laughter. But we’re not done yet.
She stares at the mixture of crap stuck to her, her hands splayed out in front of her like she’s afraid to touch it.
Everything will wash out though.
That’s one of the few rules we’ve established to the war we’ve waged our entire lives.
“You guys are so dead,” she bites out, her eyes firing missiles at us, before advancing.
I run like my life depends on it, Piper’s legs thumping against mine as she bounces in my hold.
We haul ass through the open back door—a man has to have an exit strategy after all—to the yard and the next station of our prank.
I drop Piper, and she skids to her knees in front of the kiddie pool filled with water balloons as her aunt chases us out the door.
“Look a little messy there, Mischief. Here, let us help you clean up,” I say through laughter as we fire off water balloons in her direction.
Splat. Splat. Splat.
“Direct contact, Pip! Keep firing,” I call out like a seasoned general directing his troops.
Andy tries to dip and dodge, but her wet hair and the goop stuck in it hinder her vision. We scoop balloon after balloon up and toss them at her as she runs to the side of the house.
She snags up the garden hose and twists the faucet viciously.
“You’re in for it now,” she yells and steps toward us, pulling down on the trigger for the nozzle. Her aim is lethal.
Water shoots out the end, and I throw myself over Piper as a human meat shield, taking a cold blast of water directly to the back. The temperature of the water steals the air from my lungs. That or the laughter shaking my frame. I can’t really tell which.
By the time she lets up on the hose, Piper and I are soaked from head to toes.
I set Piper down, and then dramatically fall to my knees clutching my chest.
“Pipsqueak,” I say on a death rattle groan. “Run. Save yourself. Go on without me and tell my story to your people.” After my plea is done, I fall to my face in the grass and go limp.
Piper kneels next to me. “Aunt Andy … how could you?” she dramatically calls while clutching my limp hand and fake sobbing.
More water sprays us. “Double tap,” she yells, shrieking her favorite quote from a zombie movie we watched in high school.
Ice water slides down my back, and it’s enough to have me shooting to my feet. “Truce woman! You’ve got us outgunned.”
Her face is spread in a maniacal grin. “Right where I want you.”
Piper’s teeth chatter as she calls out. “It’s really cold, can we get towels?” She adds a little quiver to her lip.
This girl is gonna win an Oscar someday.
Andy—not falling for it for a second—warily concedes. “Fine. Come on. I need a shower now anyway.” She stomps up the stairs to the deck and steps through the door to her cottage. I snag her hand and spin her to face me while Piper runs through the house to get towels.
“Marry me,” I say on a breathless plea. Covered in gunk from our elaborate pranks, she’s still the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
Her hand jerks in mine. “What?”
“Marry me, Mischief.”
Her head cocks to the side and some of the temper I’m smart enough to avoid enters her gaze. “Are you joking right now? Is this part of your prank?” she asks while looking around. “Are there cameras in here?”
I shake my head, knowing I don’t have a lot of time.
“Listen. I was talking to Harlan about your case.” She opens her mouth to argue with me, but I raise my hand to hold her off.
“Judge Hamilton is supremely traditional and old-fashioned. Har thinks that you being single will make it harder for you to get full custody of Piper.”
Some of the anger drains from her gaze.
“What? I—I don’t understand. You want to marry me so I can get custody of my niece?” Hurt tinges her voice. If she thinks that’s the only reason that I want to marry her, I’ll let her think that. For now.
“I want what’s best for her as much as you do. If us being married helps her, then yes, I want to marry you.” It’s only a partial lie. I do want what’s best for Piper, but I also want her. Always have, always will.
And if being underhanded to get what I want is what it takes …
Then so be it.
Piper’s footsteps sound from the hallway. We’re out of time.
“We’ll talk more when she’s in bed,” I say.
“You guys are dripping all over the floor,” Piper calls as she bounds toward us.
Andy takes a towel from her and wraps it around her midsection. I watch as she tucks away the shock at my request until she’s all bright smiles for her niece.
“You two can dry off and change before cleaning that up while I shower this mess off. And for the record, today was not a hair washing day, Jedidiah.”
I mock shudder at my full first name. The time it takes her to wash, condition, and dry the mane of hair on her head is unfathomable to someone like me who’s in and out of the shower and dressed in less than ten minutes.
“Well, Pipsqueak, I guess we’ve got our orders,” I say as Andy disappears into her room.
Time to get to work.