I stopped, sucked in breath and looked down at him.
“You sleep okay?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. I own the Spring Deluxe,” I answered, feeling his fingers burning white hot into the skin behind my knee.
At my answer, his eye smile went full facial and a whoosh slid through my belly.
Then I asked, “Did the kids let you in?”
“No. Found your extra key and nabbed it.”
I flipped the switch on my retinal laser beam repeatedly hoping it would engage. No go.
Then I asked in an unhappy voice, “You helped yourself to my extra key?”
“You said make myself at home.”
I clenched my teeth.
Then I stated, “That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”
Mitch made no response and Billie, who had been looking back and forth between us as we talked, look back at me expectantly.
It was then something occurred to me so I asked, “Do you, by chance, know why my alarm clock didn’t go off?”
“Could be because I turned it off,” he answered.
My body went solid at this knowledge. I studied him trying to decide how I felt about him coming into my house and then into my bedroom while I was sleeping to turn off my alarm clock. Then I tried to decide how I felt about him getting the kids dressed and taking off with them to get donuts. Then I tried to decide how I felt about him hanging out with the kids and their donuts while I slept in.
He held my gaze while I came to a decision. And my decision was, I didn’t like it much.
“Perhaps we need to have a chat in the breezeway,” I suggested and Mitch burst out laughing. For some reason, Billie did too. I yanked my leg from his hold and stepped out of reach. “Seriously, Mitch, we need to chat,” I pushed.
Mitch was still smiling huge when he stated, “Happy to chat with you, sweetheart, but there’s no way we’re doing it in the breezeway.”
“Fine,” I snapped, whirled and marched to my bedroom.
It wasn’t a great option but it was the only option. The kids’ room was their room and I wanted them to think of it that way. The bathroom in the hall was too small. So my bedroom was my only choice.
By the time I dumped the paper towel in my bathroom bin and Mitch made it to my room, I was in the bedroom. I had my arms crossed on my chest, a foot out and my mind focused on not tapping my toe mostly because if my mind focused on anything else, I might be moved to acts of violence.
Mitch closed my door and then leaned against it, crossing his arms on his chest, his eyes moving the length of me.
“Cute nightie,” he muttered, my head shot down and my hands moved immediately to close my robe over my little, cream, stretchy-cotton nightie with the tiny pink flowers on it.
I tied the robe tight, rethinking my actions of rushing out of my room in a tizzy before donning seven layers. Then I crossed my arms on my chest again and leveled my gaze on Mitch.
I opened my mouth to speak. Then I closed it. Then I opened it again. Then I closed it.
Then I said, “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“How ‘bout you begin by comin’ here and givin’ me a good morning kiss?” Mitch suggested.
I felt my eyes narrow.
Then I announced, “I know where to begin.”
His lips twitched before he invited, “Have at it.”