Chapter 19 #2
“I think so, too,” I agree as Ava shifts in my arms, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she asks, “Did you see how many I caught, Daddy? Did you see? I’m good at catching, after all!”
I nod. “I saw. You were on point. Look at all these treasures!”
She hugs her dragon-taco belly, now lumpy with treats. “Let’s do more parades! Can we do more?”
Clover tugs her cell out of the back pocket of her crime-against-my-self-control jumpsuit. “I think we can make the one a few streets over if we hurry. But then we have to head home. Maybelline said she was making you guys something special for sleepover dinner.”
Ava shivers in my arms. “Oh, man, I’m so excited about a sleepover with Edgar and Maybelline. Look!” She extends a trembling hand. “Look! I’m so happy I’m shaking!”
Clover beams. “Me, too. But I might have just had too much coffee.”
“I want coffee,” Bella announces as we join the crowd surging south, moving toward the next parade.
I snort. “No way. No coffee for you, pineapple. You’re already bouncing off the walls.”
“And coffee is for grown-ups,” Ava says in her bossy big sister voice.
“So is champagne,” Clover says, bobbing a brow my way as she spots a bubbly stand ahead. “Should we, Dad? A grown-up treat for us as a reward for being so good and sharing our piece of king cake?”
“Yes, you should,” Ava answers for me. “You guys have been very good today. You’ve hardly said any bad words at all!”
“Well, shit,” I tease. “You’re right!”
Ava and Bella both suck in scandalized breaths, the way I knew they would. “Bad, Daddy,” Bella says, as Ava announces, “Now, only Clover gets a treat. Now she’s the only good one.”
Clover dances away toward the champagne stand, twirling as she teases, “I really am so good! Sorry, Dean.”
I grin as I watch her, so happy to see her dancing, twirling.
Her cane still dangles from one of her jumpsuit belt loops, but she’s barely needed it today.
She’s going to make a complete recovery.
Soon, she’ll be strong enough to make all her dreams come true—bass playing, clothing design, anything and everything she wants.
She was never going to be a nanny long-term. It’s better that I find a replacement now. And hopefully someday she’ll become something even more important than a nanny to the girls…
I tell myself I shouldn’t let my mind go there.
It isn’t the time for happily-ever-after thoughts.
Not yet.
But as Clover sneaks me sips of her extra-large champagne throughout the second parade, passing the plastic goblet back and forth as we take turns filming the girls catching beads and dancing to the music, I can’t see how else this ends.
It just feels…meant to be.
When the sun sinks low enough to kiss the tops of the trees, we head for home, cutting through the park and taking the greenway path to our neighborhood.
We all agreed that walking was the play today.
Parking in the French Quarter is insane on a normal day, let alone during Mardi Gras, but the further we get from the excitement, the more the girls’ feet drag.
Soon, Clover swoops Ava up for a piggyback ride, and I gather a very tired Bella into my arms.
She sighs and goes limp on my shoulder, motionless but for one small hand that pats my neck as she murmurs, “Good, horsey. Good job.”
“Thank you,” I say, my heart overflowing again.
“A horsey doesn’t say ‘thank you,’ Daddy.”
“Neigh,” I say dryly, kissing her forehead as we round the corner onto our street.
At the end of the cul-de-sac, Maybelline waits for us on her porch in a long, sparkly purple dress in honor of the occasion. When she spots us coming, she stands, waving as she runs a hand through her long, snow-white hair.
Maybelline could be anywhere between seventy and ninety, I’m not exactly sure, but she’s spry and sharp and seemed truly excited to babysit the girls tonight.
When I delivered their overnight bags this morning, she was already up, pulling old toys from her attic from before her daughters went to college.
As we climb her porch steps, Ava tugging beads from her “taco pocket” to show our neighbor, she coos in her thick southern accent, “Boy howdy, looks like you two cleaned up! Did you have so much fun?”
“So much fun,” Ava says, catching her second wind as she bounces into Maybelline’s outstretched arms for a hug. “And we had cake and candy and danced and danced until my toes hurt.”
“My toes don’t hurt.” Bella lifts her head from my shoulder, yawning again. “I want to dance some more. Let’s play your records, Maybelline.”
Ava claps her hands. “Yes! Oh, yes! Can we play ‘Hound Dog’? I love ‘Hound Dog.’”
“Of course,” Maybelline says, looking nearly as excited as the girls. “I’ve already got the record player all warmed up for you two.”
“But maybe some dinner first, girls? And a bath?” To Maybelline, I add as I set Bella on the porch, “This one is very sticky.”
Maybelline laughs. “Great! That means she had a good time.” She takes Bella’s hand. “How about bathtime with my daughters’ Sesame Street bath toys, then macaroni and cheese with bacon crumble and a side of steamed broccoli, and then a dance party with Edgar until we all fall down?”
The girls cheer, and Bella does a little spin, announcing, “I love this sleepover, and I love broccoli!”
“I heard that about you,” Maybelline says, winking at me as they start inside. “Clover told me it was your favorite new vegetable.”
“It is. Because it looks like trees and tastes so yummy,” Bella says.
“Bye, girls,” I say. “I’ll be over to pick you up tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay? Call me if you need anything tonight, Maybelline, or have any questions. I’ll have my phone on at the party.”
“Will do,” Maybelline says. “But we’ll be fine. You two, go. Have a great time. You deserve some grown-up Mardi Gras fun!”
“But don’t dance too hard,” Ava says, holding the screen door open for Maybelline and Bella. “I wasn’t joking about my toes.”
Clover and I laugh, and I wave. “Bye, see you tomorrow.”
Bella waves over her shoulder. “Bye, Daddy and Clover!”
“Bye!” Ava agrees, letting the door snap shut as she follows Maybelline inside, already claiming Cookie Monster and Ernie as her bathtime toys.
Silence falls in their wake. For a moment, Clover and I stand side by side on the porch, catching our breath from the big day.
“Well, that was fun,” she finally says.
“So much fun,” I agree.
“So much.” She sighs, fluffing her curls with one hand as she adds in a softer voice, “you know what else is fun?”
“A quickie at your place before we get ready for the grown-up party?” I whisper beneath my breath.
Our gazes catch and hold, and her eyes flash as she murmurs, “Hottest mind reader ever.”
Laughing, I grab her hand. A beat later, we’re racing across the street, aimed at the garage’s side entrance in the sunset light. The moment the door slams shut behind us, she’s on me. I’m on her.
We’re on each other because, “Keeping my hands off you all day was killing me,” I groan into her mouth as we tear at each other’s clothes.
“Torture,” she agrees, working at my belt.
Her nimble fingers work their magic, and the leather hisses through the loops.
My shirt is on the garage floor before we’re five steps inside.
At this rate, there’s no way we’re making it up the stairs to her place, but that’s fine with me.
With the girls across the street, there’s no chance we’ll be interrupted, and I’ve been dreaming about getting her out of this jumpsuit all damned day.
“Is it sick that I’ve been thinking about this since nine a.m.?” I pull back, gripping the charm at the end of her zipper and dragging it slowly down.
“Sick and twisted,” she teases, holding my gaze as the fabric parts, baring her bra-free breasts.
I shake my head in mock disapproval. “No bra? Again? Bad girl.”
“You don’t need a bra with thick fabric like this.” Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as I cup her in both hands, rubbing my thumbs over her already hard nipples. “But you know what is bad? Actually bad?”
“What?”
I’m so distracted by her nipples, I almost miss it when she adds in a whisper, “I’m not wearing any panties, either.”
My gaze jerks back to hers. “What?”
“I’m not wearing panties,” she says, making my throbbing balls drag even heavier between my legs at the thought of her pussy bare beneath that fabric. “I couldn’t find my thong, and a normal panty line looked horrible with the silhouette, so I just…went without.”
“Dirty girl.” I try to slip back into my teasing role, but I’m too turned on to be convincing. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Pull my jumpsuit down around my thighs and fuck me from behind?” She bites her lip again, a hungry sound escaping her throat as I pinch her nipples tight between fingers and thumbs. “Show me what happens to dirty girls who don’t wear panties around big, bad men?”
“Turn around,” I grit out, my cock already starting to leak. “Hands on the wall.”
When she doesn’t move fast enough, I grip her by the hips, turning her myself, summoning a sharp gasp from her lips.
But the sound is followed by an eager moan, proving I’m giving her exactly what she wants as I jerk her jumpsuit off her shoulders and shove it down, down, until her firm ass pops free, and I’m free to slide a hand between her legs.
“Fuck,” I murmur into her hair as I tease through her hot, slick folds. “You are a dirty girl, aren’t you? How long have you been dripping for me?”
“All day,” she breathes, pushing back against me. “All day. I’m so bad.”
“So bad,” I agree, ripping open my jeans with my free hand. “And now you’re going to get fucked hard. Right here against the wall.”