“LILAAAA!” The kids are yelling again, fists slamming against the wood door without reprieve. “ARE YOUHOMEEEEE?”
“Shit!” I panic, searching for a pair of jeans at the bottom of the box. They’re nowhere to be found. “Shit,shit,shit!”
Two big hands settle on my shoulders. I go instantly still beneath his touch, frozen in place as his mouth moves down to rasp inmyear.
“Babe.Breathe. Put on some pants. I’ll go distract the kids for a fewminutes.”
My eyes widen and I whirl around to face him. I instantly regret it, since he’s only about three millimeters away, which means I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. For the record, it’s hard to make someone take you seriously when you’re staring up at them like one of the munchkins fromThe WizardofOz.
“Do you know anything about kids?” I askskeptically.
“I was one, about twenty years ago. Does thatcount?”
“No.”
He smiles, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Relax. Kidslikeme.”
I wrinkle my nose at him in doubt… and, I shit you not, he actuallyleans in and kisses the tip of itwith a smirk. It’s such a casual move you’d think he did it every day ofhislife.
My knees lock to keep me fromfallingover.
When he sees the shell-shocked expression on my face, he full ongrins, like he’s in on a joke I’m not privy to, then turns and starts walking towardthedoor.
“They’re going to be terrified of you,” I callafterhim.
Heignoresme.
Great.
With a renewed sense of urgency, I restart my search for jeans. My hands land on a pair of dark-wash skinnies. Pulling them on as fast as possible, I shove my feet into a pair of rubber flip flops I’d usually never be caught dead wearing outside a spa swimming pool area, and race toward the sound of voices. I’m held up momentarily in my hallway, when I catch sight of my hair in the mirror — it looks like something out of an ’80s porno, thanks to Luca’s hands, and unless I want to be the one to introduce the concept ofsex hairto a pair of five year olds, something must be done about it. I smooth the mussed strands into a slightly less hedonistic style, then take off running toward the front door again. As I round the corner into the foyer, I brace myself theworst…
And am promptly stunned to find Harry and Potter sitting on the floor with Luca, totally at ease as they pet Duncan’s puppy. The trio is chatting like a group of long lost friends. They’re so wrapped up in their discussion, they don’t even notice meenter.
“Right now we only have a fishy.” Potter quirks her head at Luca. “Do you fink a fishy counts asapet?”
“Definitely,” he agrees solemnly. “What’sitsname?”
“Dumbledore.”
Luca’s lips twitch as he glances from her to her twin. Harry, the shyer of the two, is staring at Luca’s muscles in silent awe, as though he’s just met a superhero in person. Or Hagrid. As soon as they make eye contact, Harry flushes red and returns his gaze to thepuppy.
“I’m sure Dumbledore the fish is lucky to have you two as owners,” Luca says in a sincere tone that makes Potter beam withpride.
“It’s myjob to feed Dumbledore every day. But only two pellets. One in the morning and anovver before bed.” Speech impediment aside, Potter sounds more serious than I’ve ever heard her. “Cause, one time, Harry dumped the whole bottle of fishy food in his bowl and Mommy gotrealmad.”
Luca chuckles. “I’llbet.”
“Mommy says we can’t ever getadog—”
“‘Cause she’slergic!” Harryinterjects.
Luca smiles, but doesn’t correct hismispronunciation.
“Very lergic,” Potter confirms gravely. “ButDaddytold me we’re gonna get one anyway and name it Remus.” Potter pushes her bubblegum pink glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. “For Christmas or somefing. Daddy says we haf to keep it a secret from Mommytillven.”
“Your Daddy sounds like a brave man.” Luca’s toneiswry.
I swallow alaugh.