Chapter 20 #2
“We’ve got swords.” Remi rummaged in the chest and pulled out three plastic sabers, one pink, one purple, and one silver, and handed one each to the girls. Kelsey took the silver one, and immediately started swishing it through the air with alarming precision.
Remi grabbed his phone. “Alright, Your Highnesses, say formaggio.”
Kelsey raced to him and struck a pose in front of him with her sword raised, and her crown adorably askew. The two smaller girls flanked her in front of him, all of them grinning. Tyrone didn’t even have time to protest before the flash went off, the image captured forever.
“Imma going to add this to the group email, Prince Tyrone,” Remi snickered. “You look mighty fine in a glittery crown, even if you do look like you’d rather be anywhere else.
“Don’t you dar?—”
“Too late,” Remi crowed, “it’s already gone out.”
“You’re an ass.”
Don’t punch him in front of the kids.
The girls were already rummaging through the chest again, this time emerging with plastic trays of nail polish bottles in every color of the rainbow.
Oh fuck my life.
“We’ll do manicures.” Kelsey plopped her tray onto the coffee table.
Jules immediately grabbed a neon-pink bottle. “I want sparkles.”
Ember brought a bottle up so close to her face that she crossed her eyes to peer at it. “Daddy likes green.”
“Of course I do.” How the hell did Remi not flinch or balk?
Levi, already sensing the inevitable, groaned. “Oh, come on. We just did the dress-up?—”
“You said we could do whatever we wanted!” Jules wheedled, batting her lashes.
“Whatever within reason,” Levi corrected, but his protest lacked heat.
Tyrone should’ve seen it coming for himself. Hell, he had seen it coming. But the way Kelsey was looking at him expectantly short-circuited every instinct to refuse.
“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m not doing sparkles.”
Kelsey gasped as if he’d just offered her the fucking crown jewels. “You’ll let us?”
“Let is a strong word.” He might be grumbling, but he already knew he was doomed as his two teammates sat their asses down and placed their big hands in front of their tiny daughters. “One hand, Kelsey, and no glitter.”
“But glitter’s prett?—”
“No.”
Jules slapped some black glittery polish on Levi’s thumbnail. “Your daddy scareds of glitter.”
“Damn right I am.”
Wait, what had she said? Your daddy? He wasn’t Kelsey’s daddy.
But you kinda wish you were.
It was a good thing he was sitting down when that thought slammed into him, because if he’d been standing, he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t have crashed to the floor the second his heart registered the impact of the direct hit it hadn’t been prepared for.
Levi flexed his fingers, watching his daughter work. “You’re gonna regret this, Zorro. Once they start, they don’t stop.”
Remi watched Ember sloppily painting his right hand. “At least it’s not pink.”
Ember beamed. “Green, daddy, like a ninja!”
“Christ.” Remi wrinkled his nose, but kept his hand in place for his daughter to play Picasso on his nails.
Tyrone watched as Kelsey took his fingers in her small hands and unscrewed the cap. The first stroke of the brush was unnatural; this wasn’t something he’d ever imagined in his future. He flexed his fingers instinctively, the movement making her giggle.
“Stay still,” she scolded.
“This is weird,” he admitted.
“It’s pretty.” Her tongue poked out in concentration as she painted his index fingernail.
Across the table, Jules was already moving on to Levi’s other hand, her application significantly less precise. “You’re squiggly,” she informed him.
“That’s because you’re tickling me,” Levi shot back, but he also didn’t pull away.
Remi, meanwhile, was getting the full spa treatment. Ember had somehow produced a tiny buffer and was filing his nails with the focus of a surgeon. “You’re supposed to relax,” she told him.
“I am relaxed.”
Liar.
Tyrone’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. The second buzz was insistent, though, and he glanced at the screen—Gunnar. He hesitated, then swiped it away. Whatever it was, it could wait.
Kelsey noticed. “Who was that?”
“Nobody important.”
She gave him a look that said she knew exactly how full of shit he was, but mercifully went back to her paint torture. She blew on his nails, her breath warm against his skin. “There. Perfect.”
He examined the result. It was uneven, slightly smudged, and very, very blue. “Huh.”
“See?” She grinned. “You like it.”
He didn’t dislike it. Which was somehow worse.
Remi’s phone went off next, the screen lighting up with Sugar’s name. He answered on speaker before Serena could even say hello. “Baby, I am currently getting a manicure?—”
“What?” Serena’s laugh spilled through the line.
“Don’t ask,” Remi said, but he was smiling.
“Oh, I’m asking,” Serena shot back. “Put it on video.”
“No.”
“Zipper.”
Kelsey, ever the opportunist, grabbed Remi’s phone. “Hi, Aunt Serena! We’re doing makeovers!”
Serena’s delighted squeal was loud enough to make Tyrone wince. “Put me on speakerphone. I want to hear everything.”
Remi groaned. “Traitor.”
Kelsey just grinned and hit the button.
By the time Serena hung up, she’d extracted promises of pictures, Tyrone’s nails were dry enough to stop sticking to everything, and the girls had moved on to hair braiding.
Jules climbed onto Levi’s lap, already sectioning his hair with the focus of a drill sergeant. “You get two braids, Daddy.”
Levi didn’t even protest. Just leaned back and let her work.
Remi, sensing his fate, grabbed his beer and chugged half of it in one go. “I am too sober for this.”
Tyrone knew right then that he should’ve taken the out. Should’ve claimed duty, or a perimeter check, or anything. But Kelsey was already standing in front of him, comb in hand, eyes wide. “Can I do yours?”
He opened his mouth to refuse. Hell, his hair was short enough that he had no idea if a fucking braid was even possible.
“Please?”
Fuck.
“One,” he said. “One braid.”
Her delighted smile was almost worth the torture of a makeover performed by three tiny girls. The comb caught on the shorter strands near his temple. The tug was painful enough to make him wince, but he sat still, hands resting on his knees. “Have you done this before?”
“Uh-huh.” She was clearly concentrating hard. “Mommy used to braid my hair every night.”
That doesn’t mean you know how.
I’m doomed.
Jules suddenly gasped, pointing at the window. “Daddy, look, Auntie Petra’s doing the weird walk.”
They all turned in time to look out the window and see Petra stumble sideways on the path, catch herself on the railing, and then give a thumbs-up to someone they couldn’t see, so enthusiastic she nearly toppled over again.
Levi groaned. “Oh, damn. They’re drunk.”
Remi smirked. “We are so feeding them bullshit stories about this night.”
The bottle Petra clutched to her chest came into view as she staggered back toward the kitchen, its label a blur of stark black and white.
Tyrone squinted. “Koskenkorva.”
“Oh, shit.” Remi whistled softly. “That’s Talon’s Finnish death juice.”
Levi rubbed his temples. “He’s gonna murder ‘em.”
Petra waved the bottle before tripping over the threshold into the main kitchen and disappeared from view.
Kelsey giggled and settled in against Tyrone’s side. “Auntie Petra’s silly.”
“Very silly.” he shifted so he could scoop her up. The little girl’s eyelids drooped as she nuzzled into his shoulder. He was more than a little grateful that Petra’s drunk alcohol retrieval trip had distracted her from the painful attempt at braiding his hair. “Alright, principessa. Bedtime.”
Remi scooped up Ember with a sigh. “I’ll put this one to bed before I go retrieve my hopefully-not-that-drunk wife.” Remi nodded toward the main kitchen. “I’ll call Tal to come get his very drunk woman, because I’m not responsible for everyone.”
“Good luck with that.” Tyrone figured he might as well get Kelsey home and put her to bed.
“Don’t know what you’re saying, bro.” Levi looked him dead in the eye, then gathered his daughter with one arm. “You’ll probably have one who’s just as drunk when she gets home.”
Shit!
He could deal with a drunk Glenna. “I’ll figure it out. Later, dudes.” He left Remi’s and walked to the family apartment that Glenna had been given to stay in. There was something so damn right about having Kelsey sleeping in his arms and her breath warm against his neck.
Don’t even go there.
Nope.
Not your kid.
She’s Dwight’s.
From the scent clinging to the pillows to the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, every inch of the apartment smelled like Glenna.
Damn. I’m never telling the guys that girlie shit smells sexy as fuck.
He carried Kelsey to her room and carefully laid her on the bed, pulling back the sheets before realizing she was still in that ridiculous blue dress.
Fuck.
That can’t be comfortable.