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She gives my chest a playful smack. “Stop.”
Pulling her back to me, we rock together, grinning like fools. “It’s true, but they can’t have you, can they? You know why?”
“Because my apology pancakes are a choking hazard to unsuspecting men?”
This cheeky girl.
I place my lips on her ear and purr, “Because you’re mine.”
A faint moan comes from the back of her throat. “Alright, Casanova. When you pick Isabel up, come back here. We’ll have lunch.”
“Can’t get enough of me, hmm?” Is it needy that I just want to hear her say it?
“Maybe Jay will take the baby, and you can fulfill that ‘bending me over my desk’ fantasy.” Oh, the minx.
“You’re so mean. Sending me away with that tease.”
She winks and pulls away, our hands staying connected until they physically can’t any longer.
For the next hour, I literally skip around town, with the cheesiest grin on my face.
I dial my sister. “Hey, booger face.”
“God, you’re such a dick.” I hear the clickity-clack of her working on her computer. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“Good to talk to you too, sis.” More click-clacking. She certainly doesn’t make it easy. “Remember the older woman I was talking about. The one I’m into?”
“Yeaaah,” she draws out the word.
“I want to introduce her to you guys. Will you be around later tonight?” The line is silent except for the clicking, of course. My sister is such a ballbuster. “We’ll bring Giordano’s.”
“See you at seven. Bye.” She hangs up.
I laugh, whistling my way to Isabel’s school. I make a mental note to pick up Aretha from the waffle house later.
As soon as Isabel spots me from the playground, she runs to the fence with her teacher trotting after her. “Emmie! Emmie!”
Opening the gate, I swing her in the air and hug her to me. “How’s my girl? Did you have a good day at school?”
“Yeah. Owiver twied to kiss me. I pushed him.”
“Attagirl. You tell them boys to leave you alone until you’re thirty.” I wave to Miss. Deidre as I leave the school.
“Tirty?? Dat…” She holds up her hands, trying to count her fingers. She’s too cute. “Too many.”
I kiss her forehead. “That’s the point.” Setting her on the sidewalk, I keep hold of her hand as we walk. “We’re going to pick up some lunch, and then we’re going to visit Mommy at work.” She swings my hand. “How does that sound?”
“Gweat!” She skips a little in excitement. Just like her mama. “Cat, Emmie. Cat!”
Isabel points her chubby finger in the direction of a caged-in area on the sidewalk, confining a few cats. There are balloons and tables set up with a sign that says, Life is better with a rescue cat. It must be some kind of adoption event at the shelter.
“Cat!” She’s full on pulling me now, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to deter her from the meowing puff balls. Tenacious, like her mother.
“Okay, okay. Slow down.” I manage to get her to stop dragging me. “We can pet the cats, but we can’t have one.”
“Why not?” Her nose is scrunched, and the stink eye on this one is a killer.
I crack up. “Because we have to ask Mommy first. You don’t want to pick a cat without Mom around. We don’t want to leave her out.” I’m praying she sees reason in that. She likes everyone to always be together.
