This time, when he started to leave, she was the one to stop him. “Wait. One more, for luck.” She pecked him on the lips, then ushered him off.
As he exited into the chilly afternoon, Michael had to laugh. He’d never be on the front foot when it came to Bex Cane. Now, he needed to cool off, so he set a direction for The Den to rent a wetsuit and surfboard.
Chapter Thirteen
“Mummy, wake up.”
A pint-sized hand shoved Bex’s shoulder, and she rolled over, tugging the blankets higher.
“Mummy, can we go back to the fair?”
Bex groaned, and wondered if she could pretend to be asleep. It had been a long night of staring at the ceiling and alternately recriminating herself for the kiss, and then reminding herself she was a badass bitch who could do whatever the hell she pleased. Unfortunately, ignoring her daughter wouldn’t be the responsible and motherly decision, even if it was—she cracked one eye open and peered at the alarm clock—before eight.
Pulling her head beneath the covers, Bex wriggled right over to the edge of the bed beside Izzy and, when her daughter giggled, she grabbed her around the waist and dragged her under the covers.
“Mu-um,” Izzy shrieked, as Bex pounced on her with tickling fingers. “Stop it.”
“I’m not Mum,” Bex growled in a fake-deep voice. “Mum is gone. I’m the tickle monster.”
“Let me go, tickle monster!”
“Never.” She channeled her inner Disney villain. “Mwahahaha. I’ll tickle you forever.”
“Eeeek!” The high-pitched squeal pierced the apartment, too close to her ear for comfort, and Bex released Izzy, flopping onto her back.
“Okay, Mum is back.” Izzy snuggled into her side and Bex tucked her closer. “We can’t go to the fair today, Iz. It was only there for one day.”
Izzy shuffled up the bed so they were at eye level. “Where’d it go?”
“Well, honey, everyone who had a stall there packed up and went home. They’re probably all sleeping. The Winter Wonderland Fair doesn’t happen every day.”
Izzy seemed to think about this, then brightened. “If we go to their houses, will they be there?”
Bex sighed. Her daughter was irrepressible. “Yes, but they won’t have all their goodies.”
“Oh.” She looked so disappointed that Bex rolled onto her side and gathered her up for a hug, nuzzling the top of her sweet-scented head, and getting a face full of fluff in the process. “When will they be back at the fair? I wanted to get that tutu.”
“Not until next year,” she said, cursing that Izzy hadn’t forgotten the tutu as she’d thought. “But guess what? Mr. Briggston is coming over for brunch.”
Izzy yanked free of Bex’s hold and jumped onto her knees, bouncing excitedly. “Can we make pancakes?”
“Are you going to help?”
“I’ll mix and cut them into special shapes,” she said.
“Okay, then.” Bex gave up on the idea of sleeping in. Sunday was typically the only day of the week when she didn’t book any training sessions with clients, or bother painting unless it was for herself. It was her down day, but that didn’t mean she got to sleep more than usual. Izzy dictated her schedule, and her daughter was an early riser. “Why don’t you change out of your pajamas, find the recipe, and set up your tea party table? I need to shower, but I’ll be out soon.”
“Will you make hot chocolate with mini marshmallows?” Izzy asked.
“If you behave yourself while I’m in the shower.” Her entire life had been reduced to bargaining with a child. Ridiculous perhaps, but she kind of loved it. Izzy was a born negotiator. Bex supposed she’d inherited that trait from her father. Her daughter could make a kickass lawyer one day.
“Okey-dokey.” She started to slide off the bed, but Bex stopped her, tapping her cheek. Izzy dutifully bent and kissed it.
Once Izzy had gone to get ready, Bex showered—and also shaved her legs, waxed everything that needed to be waxed, and slathered moisturizer over herself afterward. She hadn’t been so well-groomed in months, if not years, which was not, she told herself, because of her insane attraction to Michael. It was because she loved the silky feel of her hairless thighs.
In the living room, Izzy had set up her miniature table, which only reached Bex’s knees, and had little plastic cups and saucers atop it, along with a collection of different colored cookie cutters. Bex heated milk on the stove, added drinking chocolate, and served the hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, as Izzy had requested. They sat around the table and were sipping their drinks when there was a rap on the door.
Nearly knocking her chair over, Izzy shot up and raced to answer. “Mr. Briggston!”