“Oh, no you don’t.” Connor is suddenly behind me, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me back. The way his arm is positioned, it’s touching under the swell of my breasts, and I quickly scramble out of his hold, realizing I’m not wearing a bra.
If Connor noticed I was wearing one or not, I have no idea. He turns and with great ease¸ yanks Kenzie off of Mark and sets her on her feet. Now that she’s standing, I can see she is soaked from head to toe, her eye makeup is smeared down her face, her clothes are plastered to her. Looking back I find J.J. and Mary-Anne scrubbing my car with sponges and Grayson sitting on the ground a few feet away nibbling on animal cookies. None of them seem at all phased by Mark and McKenzie. I guess this is a norm for them.
Mark hops up and brushes his chest. “You are craayyzzyyy,” he yells at McKenzie.
“You dumped an entire bucket of soapy water on me, asshole!”
“McKenzie!” I scold. “Watch your mouth!”
“I won’t watch my mouth!” she seethes. “He is an asshole!”
“McKenzie Tuffman, don’t make me call your mother!”
“Ohhh,” she laughs with disdain as she raises her arms and flaps her hands, feigning fear. “Don’t call Mommy.”
“Okay,” Connor interjects. “Everyone needs to calm down.”
“Good luck getting her to calm down,” Mark snorts. “Kenz is bat-shit crazy.”
McKenzie darts toward him to attack, but Connor reaches out an arm and stops her, pulling her back. She growls and pushes away from him as she stumbles back. “Don’t touch me,” she snaps. Connor raises his hands in apology, his brows rising in shock. “My parents talk about you, ya know?”
“Shut up, Kenz!” Mark yells. But Kenz is on the maddening and often runaway train of teenage hormones. There’s no stopping her.
“You killed a man, right?”
My heart drops as I watch the ridiculing glare she gives Connor. I don’t know where it comes from or why, but my need to protect Connor from such rude scrutiny seizes me. I lurch forward and grab her arm, yanking her, so she’s facing me.
“This is my house,” I growl, through gritted teeth. “That,” I point to the garage apartment, “is Connor’s house. You are a guest here, and you will speak to both of us with respect. Do you understand me?”
Kenzie yanks her arm from my grip and backs away. “I hate this house,” she affirms, her tone angry, but far lower than before. “My mom knew it, too.” With that, she spins around and sprints inside. I shake my head not understanding why she’d hate my house. She used to love sleeping over here.
“This is her every day, Dem,” Mark comments, but flinches a little when I whip around on him, my anger apparently quite evident in my expression. “No more cursing and leave her alone. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” he answers quietly.
“Now go in and start making bologna sandwiches for everyone.” He groans under his breath but does as I ask. Turning to Connor, I shake my head. I can’t believe McKenzie said all that. I’m so embarrassed.
“I’m sorry—”
“Not your fault,” Connor interrupts holding a hand up.
“She was out of line and—”
“Let’s just drop it Demi,” he interrupts me again. He won’t make eye contact with me. Realizing that maybe he’s embarrassed, and I’m only making it worse, I push aside the urge to press on and make him hear my apology.
Instead, I try and change the subject hoping to smooth things over. “That’s nice of you to wash my car.” The three youngest Tuffman children are still busy with car washing and eating animal cookies.
“Thought I’d keep them busy,” Connor snorts. “Didn’t realize it would start World War III.”
He finally looks at me, his mouth quirking on one side, and I smile at his joke. “I don’t know how Wendy and Jeff do it.”
He sighs loudly. “Me either.”
“Demi!” J.J. yells and as I turn to acknowledge him, I’m blasted by cold water. J.J. hits me right in the chest with the jet stream setting on the nozzle, soaking me. Connor rushes and yanks the hose from J.J.’s grip, cutting it off, as J.J. giggles and points at me. As I shake my arms out, still shocked I got hosed down, Connor looks up at me and his brows rise.
“Demi,” J.J. laughs and points. “Why are your nipples all pointy like that?”
My jaw drops as I look down. White T-shirt and water; I’m pretty much topless right now, and my nipples are hard because I’m cold. My mind is moving in slow motion because I look up to Connor again, who’s still staring directly at my chest. His eyes meet mine and lock. His eyes are wide and it’s not hard to see his struggle: to look or not to look.
“Shit!” I mumble as I slap my hands over my breasts and rush into the house. Connor Stevens just saw my hard nipples. So did J.J. Oh my God. J.J. will be scarred for life. I’ll never be able to look at Connor again. I practically fly by Mark, who’s making sandwiches in the kitchen and rush back upstairs to the bathroom where my shower is still running. I’m red all over with embarrassment as I tear off my sopping wet pajamas and climb in. The water is freezing now, but I stand in there anyway, wondering if Connor can man the kids alone for the next twenty-four hours, so I never have to come out.
When I finally emerge, Connor and the kids are cleaning up lunch, minus McKenzie. She still refuses to leave the guest room. Grayson is sitting in his seat repeating “baby dinosaur” over and over again. My heart breaks a little. Something is not right, and I know it’s the last thing Wendy and Jeff will want to hear. But I have to say something. Grayson needs help, and the sooner they get it for him, the better.
“Thanks for handling lunch.” Grabbing the sponge from the back of the sink I start wiping the table down. It doesn’t look like it needs a wipe down, but I’m desperate for a reason to avoid eye contact with him.
“I just wiped it off Demi,” J.J. volunteers.
“Oh, well you did a great job,” I say. “Thought I saw a little spot. Guess my vision is getting bad in my old age.”
“I want to see Mr. Jenson. He said he’d give me candy,” Mary-Anne pipes up.
“Maybe later,” I tell her as I run a hand over her blonde hair. “But don’t go over there without me, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can we go outside and play?” Mary-Anne begs. “I brought sidewalk chalk to draw on your driveway Demi.”
“If Mark will go with you and keep an eye on the three of you, you can go out. And I want to see my entire driveway covered in art. If you do a good job, I’ll have a treat for you.”
“Yay!” The two barrel off to find Mark, arguing who will draw the most or best pictures, and Grayson, noting the commotion, climbs down off his chair and runs after them.
“How many hours until bedtime?” Connor chuckles as he does his signature head rub.
“Approximately nine,” I jest. “You’re saving my life this weekend, ya know? Thank you for all the help. I’m afraid I was incredibly ambitious to think I could handle them by myself.”
“It’s been pretty fun, minus the sibling drama. They’re good kids.”
“Yeah, they are. I love them to pieces. They might be the closest thing I’ll ever have to children.”
Connor cocks his head slightly and looks at me. “Why do you say that?”
The comment was off-handed. I hadn’t meant it to sound like I was throwing myself a pity party. “Who knows if and when I’ll remarry? Maybe children aren’t in the cards for me.”
His mouth quirks up in a smirk, a smirk conveying disbelief. “No way. A woman like you Demi . . . you need babies. Lots of them.”
He always says the kindest things to me. And every time he does I find myself eager to hear another compliment or praise; somehow his opinion of me has come to matter much more than it should.
I laugh a little. “I don’t know about lots of them. I think this weekend has proven an effective method of mental birth control. But one,” I smile faintly at the thought, “one would be nice. But maybe it’s not meant to be, eh? What about you? You want kids?”