style="font-size:15px;"> But a few minutes later, it was over.
“Okay, girls,” Josh said from the doorway. “Time to get your shoes on.”
“That’s my cue to head out,” Tristyn said to them.
Josh looked slightly panicked as she made her way toward the door. “Do you have to go?”
“You’re leaving, too,” she pointed out.
“But I was thinking—hoping,” he admitted, “that you might come with us.”
She didn’t delude herself into thinking that he wanted her company. The simple and obvious truth was that he had no clue what to do with the three little girls left in his care and he was desperate for help with them. And yet she couldn’t resist turning his own words around on him.
“Why is that?” she asked, blatantly fluttering her eyelashes. “Does keeping up with three females require more stamina than you possess?”
Josh slid an arm around her back and drew her closer. So close that her breasts rubbed against his chest. Even through the layers of clothing that separated them, she felt her nipples tighten and strain against the lace of her bra. She lifted her eyes to his, and the intensity in his gray gaze nearly made her shiver.
“Do you want a demonstration of my stamina?” he asked.
She wanted to push him away, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affected her. Instead, she rolled her eyes. “Not even in your dreams.”
His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “You have no control over my dreams.”
“Then definitely not in any version of reality,” she amended.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, finally releasing her.
“Positive,” she said, taking just a half step back so that she could breathe without his proximity short-circuiting her brain.
And clearly her brain had short-circuited or she wouldn’t have baited him in such a way. Because even if she was no longer a teenager experiencing her first infatuation, compared to Josh Slater she was still a novice when it came to the games that men and women played.
“In that case, there’s no reason you would object to accompanying me and the girls,” he suggested.
He was right. For the past dozen years, most of their public interactions had been civil—if occasionally adversarial. It was only when they were alone together—which she tried to avoid, if at all possible—that they tiptoed around one another. But if she went along, they would have the barrier of three little girls to prevent them from rubbing one another the wrong way and creating a familiar and dangerously tempting friction.
“Let’s go get you a phone,” she agreed.
* * *
As soon as they stepped through the doors of the electronics store, Charlotte and Emily made a beeline toward the video games on display. Josh opened his mouth to call them back just as a young salesman stepped up and Hanna announced, “I has to go potty.”
With an apologetic glance toward the store employee, he shifted his attention to his youngest niece. “Why didn’t you go before we left home?”
“I didn’t has to go before,” she said with unerring logic. “I has to go now.”
He looked at the salesman, who shook his head. “Sorry, we don’t have any public restrooms here.”
“There’s a coffee shop next door,” Tristyn pointed out. “I’ll take her there.”
“Thank you,” Josh said.
As they turned around and went back out the door, he caught up with Charlotte and Emily. “You can stay here to look at the games or whatever,” he told them. “But stay together.”
“Okay,” they agreed, each already with a controller in hand and attention fixed on the demo game system.
The hopeful employee was still hovering beside him—no doubt working on commission. “Can I help you find something, sir?”
“I need a new phone,” he admitted, and handed over his dead—albeit squeaky clean—iPhone 7.
Tristyn returned with Hanna just as the tech guy—who had been attempting to work magic on Josh’s SIM card—gave him the bad news: none of the information could be salvaged. Which wasn’t really a surprise but a disappointment nonetheless.
“All of those names and numbers...gone?” Tristyn asked, feigning horror. “The cute little messages with kissy-face emojis from all of your girlfriends...gone? Your electronic little black book...gone?”
He slid her a look. “No worries—I have a real little black book for all of the important names and numbers.”
“I have no doubt,” she said.
Josh passed his credit card to the salesman. A few minutes later, he walked out of the store with his new phone, which indicated the time to be 5:26 p.m.
“I’m hungry, Uncle Josh,” Emily said.
“It’s not even five thirty,” he noted. “What time do you guys usually eat?”
“Five thirty,” Charlotte told him.
“I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” he acknowledged, mentally inventorying the contents of his refrigerator to determine if he had anything left to feed them. “What do you like to eat?”
“Pizza,” Emily announced.
“Chicken fingers,” Charlotte countered.
“S’ghetti,” Hanna chimed in.
“Well, at least we have a consensus,” he said drily.
“What’s a sen-sus?” Emily asked.
“It means agreement,” he told her.
Her little brow furrowed.
“He was being sarcastic,” her older sister explained.
“Oh,” Emily said. Then, “What’s scar-tas-tic?”
“Sarcastic.” Tristyn enunciated the word for her. “And it’s your uncle Josh’s way of trying to be funny, but he’s not.”
“S’ghetti,” Hanna said again.
“You had pasta for lunch,” Josh reminded her.
“Not s’ghetti,” she argued.
“What’s your vote, Tristyn?”
A
