Happily This Christmas (Happily Inc #6) - Susan Mallery Page 0,31
She stood. “Come on. Let’s clear the table, then we can go play video games. I bet I can beat you again.”
“You didn’t beat me. I let you win because you’re new. Tonight there’s no mercy.”
Garrick was more caught up in the fact that Joylyn was being pleasant and voluntarily helping.
It took them only a few minutes to get the leftovers into the refrigerator and disappear down the hall. He watched them go before returning his attention to Wynn.
“You worked a miracle.”
“I’d love to take credit, but I didn’t do anything.”
“She was almost nice.”
Rather than smile, Wynn shifted in her seat. “I’m going to say something that may get me in trouble.”
“I doubt that.”
“You haven’t heard what it is yet.” She moved her wineglass around the table. “Garrick, you need to have expectations when it comes to your daughter. Joylyn is pregnant, but she’s not sick. She can do something around here. Tell her she has to cook two meals a week and, I don’t know, manage the grocery shopping. Whatever. You can come up with the list, but don’t let her just sit on her butt and brood all day. It’s not good for her.”
“You’re right,” he said, wishing he’d thought of that himself. “She should do more. I don’t look forward to the fight, but it’s the right thing to do.”
She stared at him, as if waiting for more. “That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. I thought you’d be mad.”
“Why? You’re helping. You gave her a job. You have good advice.” He held up the wineglass. “I have dishes because of you. Even more important, you’re raising a great kid. Of course I’m going to listen to you.”
“Thank you. I just think she’ll be happier when she has more to do.”
“I’d like that. Not just for me but for her. She’s really different these days. She’s constantly in tears. I know she misses Chandler, but I worry she’s too emotional. She was always so easygoing as a kid.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is indulged.”
“So harsh,” he teased, then glanced at her empty glass. “More wine?”
“Thanks, but I need to get Hunter home. It’s a school night.”
“For us, too.”
They both stood. He reached for her empty glass at the same second she reached for his. Their hands bumped and their arms tangled. They both pulled back, and he looked at her.
She was beautiful, he thought absently. High cheekbones and a full mouth, the soft glow of her light brown skin. Plus all that long, curly hair.
Without considering he might be crossing a line, he reached out and fingered one of the curls. Her hair was as soft as he’d imagined. Her gaze met his, and he read interest in her brown eyes. The kind of interest that got a man’s attention and turned any day into a very good one. Awareness crackled between them.
He released the curl and drew her close, then slowly, deliberately settled his mouth on hers.
Her lips were soft and warm, igniting heat in his body. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. He felt the imprint of her breasts on his chest, the brush of her thighs against his. When he touched his tongue to her bottom lip, she parted and he eased inside.
It was a great kiss. All sexy and hot as they discovered the rhythm of the dance. He teased her tongue, liking the heat flaring and the way she hung on.
He wanted to pull back just enough to kiss his way along her jaw, then down her neck. He wanted to lift her up on the table so he could move between her thighs and start to explore her incredible body. He wanted to move her toward the bedroom and figure out at least fifteen ways to make her come before burying himself inside her and finding his own release.
And none of that was going to happen.
They broke apart at the same time. Her eyes were slightly glazed, which was gratifying considering his massive erection.
“If only we didn’t have kids in the next room,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Why is life all about timing?”
“Rain check?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
* * *
JOYLYN CAREFULLY APPLIED a thin layer of glue on the tiny black hat, then set it on top of the snowman’s head. She held it in place for a count of ten before moving her fingers and studying the finished snowman.
The work wasn’t very interesting. She’d taken the morning to plan