Jett (Arizona Vengeance 10)

At any rate, if I had more time, I’d offer to walk Felicity to school today but as it stands, I have only a few minutes to bring my ladies—yeah, I said it—breakfast and then I have to get to the arena for a short 8 AM skate since it’s game day. I’m going to be cutting it close as it is.

Using the hand with the donut bag, I knock on the door—making a mental note to replace her doorbell this weekend—and wait for someone to answer.

It’s actually Felicity and after she blinks in surprise at me, her grin is wide and welcoming. “Jett,” she exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

I rustle the bag and hand it to her. “I brought chocolate donuts for you.”

Just as Felicity takes my offering, Emory emerges from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. She’s completely made up for work in a slim, navy blue skirt and a white silky blouse tucked in. She’s rocking a pair of dark blue heels that do amazing things to her legs—which look equally amazing wrapped around my waist, and it’s been far too long since that’s happened—and her hair is back in the tight bun she prefers for work. As usual, she’s sans contact lenses and has her black frames on, and I have no clue why she’s so hot this way, but she is. We really, really need a night alone, and soon.

I was hoping it would be tonight after our game, which seems to be the best time for Emory to stay over with me, but unfortunately she’s got a lot of work to do tonight. I don’t like it, but I understand it. It’s no different than me having obligations to attend an away game. There are going to be times when work will take precedence in our relationship.

We’ve got plans for tomorrow night when Shane takes Felicity to the daddy/daughter dance, and that will be soon enough.

“What are you doing here?” Emory asks, the same question as her daughter, as she tilts her head and puts an earring in her lobe. I notice the other one is already filled.

This time, I hold up the box. “Croissants for breakfast. But I can’t really stay. I’m just dropping off treats to you.”

Her eyes light up, because… well, the flaky French pastries are her favorite.

“You came all this way just to bring us breakfast?” she asks in wonder, moving past Felicity to me. The look in her eyes has changed from mere joy to something a lot more serious.

Fuck if I don’t like it.

Just as I like, and relish, when she steps right into me, one hand to my chest, and lifts up to press her lips lightly to mine. I accept the kiss, eyes closed for a moment, then open them out of curiosity to look at Felicity.

To gauge her reaction.

She just stands there with a goofy smile—not distress, thank fuck.

The kiss is brief, because we are in a child’s presence and Emory takes the box from me. “Are you sure you can’t just stay for one? Or a cup of coffee?”

Glancing down at my watch, knowing I will incur Coach’s wrath if I’m so much as ten seconds late to step on the ice, I decide to risk it. I’ll just have to cut down on my stretches a bit and hope I don’t pull a groin muscle which would suck not only for my gameplay but also for my bedroom play.

As Emory pours me a cup of coffee, I sit at the table and watch as Felicity takes a chocolate donut from the bag. I ate a hefty omelet about half an hour ago, so I’m not hungry.

“Guess what?” Felicity says exuberantly while chewing on the donut. A crumb falls out onto the table and I resist the urge to put my fingers under her chin to close her mouth, because I don’t want to temper her excitement.

“What?” I reply to the little girl sitting across from me. Emory returns to the table, sits coffee in front of me, and takes the chair to my left. She reaches for a croissant and picks a tiny piece off to lay it delicately on her tongue, I quickly avert my eyes from that very pretty, and very talented, tongue.

“Mummy found a place for me to take lessons.” She’s practically bouncing up and down in her chair. “Miss Nora knows a place not far from here and I’m going to start next week.”

“That’s fantastic,” I reply, offering my fist across the table for her to bump. She does, and leaves a dab of chocolate on my knuckle, which I surreptitiously wipe on my track pants.

“I know,” she says, and then jabbers for a solid three minutes about horses. Without sucking in a breath and ignoring her donut, she then launches into a story about a girl in her class named Cicily who is mean to her. Her mum says she needs to ignore the behavior, but her dad says she should confront her. “What do you think I should do?” she asks me.