by Sadie Grubor
"I love you, girls."
"We love you, too, Dad," they reply in unison.
Lyra is the first to pull out of the embrace.
Tilting my head, I press my cheek to Cass' knit hat.
"We get that, but…" She bites her bottom lip.
Cass pushes from my chest, drawing my attention away from Lyra.
"But, Sid…" she adds.
And it clicks. They're worried about me being with someone. They've met a girlfriend or two in the past, but none of them were ever more serious than meeting my kids a couple times. And knowing the girls love having Gil as their stepfather, they never had that parent reuniting dream. But they also have never come to the cabin to find me alone with a woman. It makes sense they would be a bit weirded out and worried.
"You're different with her," Cass continues, pulling me from my thoughts.
"There's nothing to worry about, girls," I assure with a grin. "Sid's just a friend, and—"
"She makes you happy again," Lyra blurts.
"Dad, you're…" Cass starts, and then looks to her sister for support.
"You're how you used to be," Lyra explains.
My brow furrows. Am I so fucking different now?
Anger and guilt burn in my stomach at the thought of letting my girls down.
"It's like all the fun…" Lyra starts, and Cass finishes, "You got your happy back."
A sharp pang stabs at my chest.
"She's just a friend," I say quietly.
"Don't let her friend-zone you, Dad," Lyra says with a snort, pursing her lips.
Cass giggles and leans into my side.
Well, what the fuck do I say to that? And what the hell does my baby girl know about being friend-zoned?
They have no idea what Sid's been through, or what she's currently dealing with. Hell, I'm not completely sure. I only have a general idea supported by some pretty damn convincing evidence.
The physical attraction is far from a problem, her figure being one of the first things to catch my attention. A woman with curves is right up my alley. But that mouth of hers—fuck me. The first time she set her tongue loose, I wanted nothing more than to strip her down and fuck her so hard, she couldn't form one more insult.
The feisty hellcat she turns into with just a touch or word drives me to fucking insanity in the best possible ways. And this week, alone and comfortable with each other, it's like she's always been there. She just fits a space I didn't know was so empty. Hell, I didn't even realize it was there, but it is and it's fucking Sid-shaped.
I might have been happy to just get the Sid experience before, but now I've got a taste of her crazy and I'm afraid I want a lot more of it—of her. Something she isn't anywhere near ready to give anyone.
Nate and Ian drive up, park, and look the three of us over.
"Everything okay?" Nate asks, shoving his goggles on his head.
"Yeah," I say, giving a nod, "everything's pretty awesome."
I pull my goggles down over my eyes and clap my glove-covered hands together.
"Let's head back," I announce, throwing my left leg over the seat and starting up the snowmobile.
Instead of getting off, Cass situates herself against my back and wraps her arms around my waist. Lyra rushes to her machine, climbs on, and starts it up.
Once everyone's ready, we begin the trek back to the cabin, but we take the long way, racing around trees and through snow drifts. I need this time to clear my mind and to make sure my girls know they are my happy.
On arrival, I realize it's closer to dinner than lunch and the road to the cabin has been cleared. It's now passable for driving.
Inside the cabin, Em and Mom stand ready to help with suit removal. They also have food laid out.
The boys rush straight for the food while the girls choose to warm up by the fire first.
Instinctively, my eyes seek out Sid.
She's no longer where I left her hours ago. She's at the end of the dining room table with files open and papers fanned out.
Under the weight of my stare, her eyes meet mine over her laptop.
"Can you braid my hair?" Cass asks, walking up next to Sid, touching one finger to the dark braid around her head.
Sid breaks our connection and turns to my baby girl.
"Sure," she says, "after you eat, go grab a comb, bobby pins, and a hair tie."
"Okay," Cass responds, smiling so big, my heart melts.
A fucking Sid-shaped hole aching to close around her.
Movement behind Sid draws my eyes. Lyra stands there, silently gesturing.
She mouths the word 'friends' and makes a big X with her arms. Dropping them, she raises her brow, a silent question to make sure I got her.
I can't help it. I laugh out loud. What the hell am I going to do with that girl?
Ignoring the way everyone's looking at me, I step into the kitchen for food.
"Stop moving," Lyra growls.
My stomach full, I sit in the overstuffed worn leather chair near the fire, nursing a beer. I watch Lyra hold the nail polish brush over her sister's foot. Her scrunched up face makes me smile. Fuck, the whole scene thrills me.
I can remember Maria doing their hair, painting fingernails, and doing makeup with them when they were little. For the past couple years, they haven't gotten this. Their mother has been too sick to do much except watch while they did girl shit together, and that was if she could stay awake.
"I can't help it," Cass says, giggling. "You keep touching my toes with your fingers."
"Well, you're messing up the design." Lyra shoves the brush back into the bottle of polish.
"What's it supposed to be?" Sid asks, looking down as she twists Cass' hair in an intricate weave around her head.
"A butterfly?" Cass says, more a question than an answer.
"It's a flower," Lyra exclaims.
"It looks like a purple vagina," Sid states, fingers still working through my daughter's hair.
"It does not," Lyra laughs out.
Cass bursts into giggles, adding, "It has glitter."
"Great, that makes it a purple stripper vagina," Sid mumbles, earning more laughter.
This time, the laughter includes my nephews, sister, and mother.
"Oh my gosh," Lyra gasps, "I can't believe you just said that."
Concern flashes on Sid's face and her eyes snap to my sister.
"Sorry," she says, "I'm not used to being around so many kids."
Em gives her a smile, which visibly relaxes Sid.
"It's fine. You didn't say anything worse than they already hear."
"Are you selling your business?" My mother's question draws all our attention.
Sid stiffens.
Mom stands, wine in hand, looking over the papers on the dining room table.
"Mom," Em exclaims.
"Jesus, Mom, that's her personal business," I yell, scowling at her nosey ass.
"What?" She looks up at us and shrugs. "They were just lying out," she defends, waving her hand over the mess. "I didn't go digging through the files."
Knowing her, she definitely did.
"It's alright," Sid sighs, finishing Cass' hair and handing her a mirror. "And to answer your question, I don't know."
"You don't—"
"Mom, how about we drop it?"
The look my mother gives me is all too familiar. It's her don't-make-me-slap-you-boy look.
"I'm just curious," she snaps.
"I'm trying to decide a game plan. Buying out my partner, finding someone to buy me out, or just trying to sell the business to a third party."
Sid leans back into her chair, her eyes on my mother.
"But this is your baby, correct?" my mother presses.
Sid nods. "Yes, but I have a feeling a third party buyer is going to be my only option in this situation."
"To get rid of this…" mom pauses, looks over the papers, and looks back at Sid, "Paul person."
Sid's body goes rigid, the muscles in her jaw tightening.
"Yes," she says through clenched teeth.
"I see," my mom says.
I don't miss the look on my mother's face. The wheels are turning. She's planning something.
Most people make the mistake of thinking my mother's a bimbo without a brain. It's an assumption that's followed her most of her life, and even more so when she started doing porn. What people don't realize is mom is kind of a badass. She doesn't think like everyone else and it's why she's a porn star and not just an actor doing porn—and there is a difference.
"I'm hungry," Nate announces, pushing off the couch.
"Let's make smores." Cass stands from the floor, following her cousin.
I glance back at my mother and find the kids have distracted her from the conversation with Sid. She trails after them, telling them where the chocolate bars are.
After two hours filled with smores, hot chocolate, popcorn, and the longest game of Life in history, the kids are cleaning up and planning to watch a movie on the projector screen in the game room.
"Dad, you always end up with two sets of twins." Lyra puts the little pegs back in the baggie.
"Yeah, I noticed that, too." Cass folds the game board.
"Maybe it's his destiny," Ian says with a ghostly voice, wiggling his fingers in the air.
I chuckle and carry my beer to the chair near the fire. Settling in, I add another log and stoke the flames.
"Don't be an idiot." Lyra rolls her eyes, placing the lid back on the box. "Help clean up so Nate doesn't choose one of those car racing movies."
"I still can't believe I didn't see the projector." Sid shakes her head, stuffing her laptop into a black bag.
"It's a miniature one in the ceiling," Ian explains, pointing up. "And the screen retracts too."
Pushing away from the table, he stands and starts for the stairs. On the way, he hooks a finger into Lyra's mouth and pulls. Then, he runs for his life.
"You jerk!" she screams, chasing him.
"Ian," Em yells after her son. "What did we talk about!"
Laughter pours from Sid. So much, she holds her stomach.
"I better go stop her from killing him." Cass sighs and walks in the direction of the arguing.
"You're just going to sit there?" Em glares at me.
I shrug and take a drink from the bottle in my hand, raking a hand through my hair.
"Your son started it," I tease.
Growling, she gets off the couch, walks up, and messes my hair.
"Was that really necessary?" I set the beer on the floor and use both hands to push the hair from my face.
"No," she sighs, "but it made me feel better."
With quick strides, she reaches the top of the stairs, descends, and starts yelling at Ian.
No matter how many times I comb through my hair, I can't keep it out of my face. Damn sisters.
"Do you have a hair tie over there?" I glance toward Sid.
With her bag over her shoulder, she starts digging through a smaller pink bag the girls brought down and grins. The grin scares me.
"I'm afraid just this one." Using the fingers of both hands, she launches a neon rainbow hairband.
It hits the side of my head before falling to the floor. Her laughter follows.
I grab the tie from the floor, knot my hair at the crown of my head, and bring my eyes back to her.
She's grinning, wide and beautiful. All evening, she sat across from me, her smile, quick wit, and laughter taunting me, seducing me.
Fuck, I want her and she's not in a good place, but…
"Sid?" I call out before I can stop myself.
"What?" she asks, hesitant, and gives me a side-eye.
"Come here," I say, and it's not a request.
"Oh, do you want the nail polish, too?" She drops her bag and starts digging into the pink bag again.
She pulls out the same purple color the girls used and holds it up.
"Come here," I say again, growing impatient.
Does she realize what she does to me?
Her teasing, the smile she's wearing, and the amusement in her eyes makes my body burn. Need courses through my veins and it's hotter than the flames roaring next to me.
"Are we going to braid each other's hair, tell each other our secrets, and paint purple vaginas on our toes?" She feigns excitement.
My need bursts beneath my skin, soaking into my muscles. I tense and push out of the chair. Our eyes meet and what she sees in mine makes the smile fall from her lips.
Holding her gorgeous stormy blue eyes, I stalk toward her. She takes one step back and bumps into a dining table chair.
With only inches between us, I reach out, snag her waist with my left arm, and cup the side of her head with my right. Her hands come to my chest, one palm flat and pressing, the other fisted around the nail polish. I tip my head and tilt her face, my thumb resting beneath her jaw.
"Listen, tiger, if you're asking me to have a girls night with you, I'm saying fuck yeah. You think I haven't done that shit with my girls? I paint an awesome toe."
Her mouth pops open and a heavy breath escapes her lips.
Moving closer, I brush my lips over hers before turning my head and placing my lips near her ear. "As for my secrets," I rumble, and my hand slips around to the small of her back, pulling her closer, "you want them, they're yours, but I'll be confessing them between your thighs."
My next move is as hard as my cock.
I release her and step back, putting space between us.
Her body sways forward, but she catches herself.
"You just say the word and I'm there," I say, dropping my eyes to the juncture between her thighs to make my point.
I rake my eyes back up her body and lick my lips, praying she'll say the fucking word.
Eyes wide and hands shaking, she rubs them over her hips and clears her throat.
"So, you're in touch with your feminine side," she clears her throat again, "good to know."
Twisting, she grabs her black bag from the floor and hauls it back onto her shoulder. She starts to walk away, but spins around to set the purple nail polish on the table before going upstairs.
"Any chance you can give Andrew lessons?" Em asks, teasing.
"Oh, please, your husband's Italian. I know how hot Italian blood can run," Mom admonishes Ember.
I swing my gaze toward them and see her and my mother seated at the island, both holding a glass of wine and wearing large grins.
"You're just like your father," Mom exclaims.
"No way, Dad?" Em gasps.
Mom nods emphatically. "Oh yes, he's quite skilled…with his mouth." She smiles and takes a sip from her glass.
"Mom," Em and I shout at the same time.
"Oh, shut up," she says. "You're both adults and it's not like there isn't video as proof."
She waves her hand in the air, draining the last of the red wine.
Chapter Twelve
Sidra
I place my bag on the floor when I really want to slam it down, and move to the closet. Pulling my clothes from hangers, I move to my empty suitcase and throw the pieces in without folding.
Damn him and his hot and cold bullshit! Who in the fuck does he think he is?
I stomp to the dresser and empty each drawer, one by one, into the luggage. Kneeling down, I yank out underwear, some jeans, socks, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. The pants and shirt are comfortable enough for the trip home tomorrow.
Throwing them into a pile, I start shoving everything else down.
This morning, he couldn't get off me quick enough, and now, in front of his mom and sister, he pulls that shit. Stupid overgrown hairball.
With one last shove, I stand, and remember I didn't take out pajamas for tonight.
"Ugh," I groan, loud.
"What are you doing?" His voice surprises me, but it also inflames my anger.
"What's it look like, genius?" I snap before leaning down and digging
into the clothes to pull out shorts and a t-shirt.
"Why are you packing?" He sounds closer, but I refuse to look at him.
"I'm leaving," I state, shoving the clothes back down.
"You're not driving down the mountain tonight," he orders, and it pisses me off more.
I straighten, whip my body around, and glare up at him.
"If I wanted to leave right now, I would, and you wouldn't fucking stop me," I growl.
He steps closer, towering above me, trying to intimidate. It does the opposite. Furious, I move closer, press my chest to his, and raise a brow in challenge.
"You aren't driving, in the dark, down a snow-covered mountain, city girl." His brow furrows above his angry eyes.
"Stop telling me what I can and can't do, Sasquatch!" Using my index finger, I poke his chest.
He catches my finger in his hand, his chest heaving, nostrils flaring.
Fuck, if it isn't hot as hell. And I'm all kinds of stupid to think so. Like every other man in the world, he wants the challenge to conquer. When they know they can have it, they no longer desire it. Proven just this morning when I stupidly offered myself up like a sacrifice to this King Kong sized bastard.
"Let go," I shout, pulling my finger from his grip.
His eyes burn into mine, the heat of his gaze penetrating me in powerful waves. My body absorbs them like it needs him to live. Fisting my hands at my sides, I fight between the urge to hit him and the desire to rip his clothes from his body.
The fact that I want this impossibly confusing and bossy man sends a sobering chill up my spine. He doesn't want you—just the challenge. Not trusting myself to touch him, I settle for turning and walking away.
"I'm leaving in the morning," I mumble, grabbing my pile of clothes from the floor.
His silence annoys me, but I don't look back as I enter the bathroom and close the door.
I jump in the shower and take my time going through the full routine of shaving, washing, scrubbing, and conditioning. Then, sitting on the edge of the tub, I rub my favorite lotion into my skin.
"Damn," I grumble to myself when I get a splat of lotion in my palm.
Shaking the tube, I try again and get what little is left.
I sigh and make a mental note to visit Wendy's shop when I get home. Wendy, the owner of Wendy's Organic Emporium, turned me into a devoted member of her overpriced products when we were in college.
