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“Who said I didn’t?”
“So you’ve made a trap like this before?”
“Not exactly, but pretty close.” He glanced over at me with a grin. “When you have kids who drop food on the floor and leave wrappers under their beds, you get mice. It’s just part of the deal.”
Seeing him so competent, so patient, and a little amused and steady reminded me that he wasn’t just the man I wanted to lose all control. He was a father, a protector. He had built a life around his family, and it showed. He was a wonderful, hands-on kind of dad who loved his kids without condition, even when it wasn’t easy.
Like all kids, there were times when they didn’t make it easy on him, but it never rattled him, apparently, even when they brought mice into the house. “So, you’ve used this kind of trap before?”
“Not exactly.” He cocked his brow. “But I’ve never really been worried about hurting one before.”
He cut a hole in the pretzel container, then slid the bottle he’d just cut into the opening. The plastic pieces came together like a funnel, letting the mouse in, but the frayed plastic from the cut top kept it from coming out. He added a few nuts and some peanut butter to tempt our unwanted houseguest, then positioned it at the end of the sofa.
“That should do it.”
“You think it’ll work?”
“Absolutely.”
“And what if it doesn’t?”
“It will.”
He sounded so confident, but he always was. It was one of the things I found most attractive about him. He stood and brushed his hands off on his jeans before asking, “You got any more of that wine?”
“Sure. There’s more in the fridge.” I pointed to the top left cabinet. “The glasses are on the second shelf.”
He opened the cabinet and pulled out a glass before pouring himself a healthy portion of wine. Before returning it to the fridge, he topped off my glass. “I thought I could only have one.”
“That was before.”
“Oh.” I pulled the blanket over my shoulder as I asked, “Does that mean the lesson is over?”
“I think there’s been enough excitement for one night.”
“You might be right.”
“But it wasn’t a complete waste.” His eyes skirted over me. “You’ve proven you know how to dress the part.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, but you already knew that.”
“What?”
“You didn’t really think I bought all that ‘I don’t know how to dress sexy’ bullshit you were giving me the other day, did you?”
“Well… maybe a little.”
“I’ve seen how you dress for club parties. The short skirts, low-cut tops, and the boots.” He cocked his brow. “The shit you wear when you have your little troublemaker with you.”
“Chrissy isn’t a troublemaker.”
“She convinced you to hook up with Coop.”
“But I didn’t actually do it.”
Something flickered across his face, something darker than playful teasing but too quick for me to name. I wondered if he was bothered because he thought Coop wasn’t the right fit, or because I was inexperienced. Or if maybe, just maybe, the thought of me being with someone else got under his skin.
