I Want You Back (Want You #1)(71)

I had no problem finding the middle finger emoji.

    JL: ? C U in 30





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? ? ?

I was still in my robe when they showed up twenty minutes later.

At least I’d managed to toss the empty prosecco bottle in the garbage so it didn’t look like I’d been lounging around having a liquid supper even though I totally was.

Mimi bounded over and hugged me. “Daddy said it wouldn’t be fair to have ice cream without you.”

“Did he now?” I said, smoothing her hair down.

“Uh-huh. And I sorta forgot my hockey bag.”

I gave her a smacking kiss on the forehead. “Lucky thing Daddy didn’t have anything better to do than to go for an ice cream run and bring you over here to fetch it.” I still hadn’t looked at Jax, but I felt his burning gaze on me.

“Are you mad, Mommy?”

“Not at all. I’m always happy to see you, sweetheart.”

She grinned. “You’re still coming to my hockey practice tomorrow? Even though you don’t have to bring my bag?”

Then it clicked. My eyes narrowed. “Milora Michelle. Did you forget your bag on purpose so I’d have to show up at the ice rink?”

“Uh . . . maybe. But I really, really want you there, and I don’t want Daddy sitting alone.”

I saw no machinations on her earnest face. She just didn’t want to leave me out—or maybe she didn’t want me to opt out. “You sweet, sweet girl,” I murmured. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“Yay! Can I eat my ice cream in my room?”

“Sure,” Jax answered. “Take your time. Your mom and I have to talk anyway.”

Mimi’s gaze moved from her dad to me and back to her dad. “You’re not gonna fight again?”

“Nope. We’re past that, aren’t we, little mama?”

“Absolutely, big daddy,” I cooed back.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Jax crossed the room and loomed over me.

I blinked up at him.

But his focus wasn’t on my face; he’d glued his gaze to the gap in my robe. A gap that left no question about what I had on under the fluffy terry cloth.

Not a damn thing.

“Where’s my ice cream?”

That caused him to shift back.

“Right over there. I’ll go get it.”

As soon as his back was to me, I scrambled off the couch and rounded the corner into the kitchen, where I oh-so-nonchalantly leaned against the counter, waiting for him.

Jax handed me the plastic cup with a muttered, “Here,” but he didn’t give me the space I expected.

“Thanks.”

“What’s going on with you?”

I plucked the cherry off the top and ate it. Then I dug my spoon in for the first taste of ice cream. “Nothing is going on.”

“Then why did you need a mental health day?”

“Why did you choose today to disclose every moment we’ve spent together to Annika? Yes, she’s your cousin, but she’s also my boss. So I had to field questions about what’s going on between us.”

“What did you tell her?”

I scooped more chocolatey goodness onto my spoon and slipped it into my mouth. After I swallowed I said, “Damn, this tastes so much better than I remember.”

“Lucy. Stop hedging.”

“Jaxson. Stop badgering. I’m trying to enjoy the ice cream that you insisted on bringing me.” Hah. He couldn’t argue with that.

But the man reached over, plucked the cup out of my hand and held it out of my reach.

“Hey!”

“When you answer my question to my satisfaction, I’ll give you a bite.”

“And if I don’t answer to your satisfaction?”

“Then I get a bite.” Smirking, he brought the ice cream–filled spoon to his mouth and ate it. “That was a penalty shot. Now . . . mental health day?” he prompted.

“The truth? You confuse the hell out of me. Annika noticed my distraction and demanded details. But since I don’t know what’s going on between us, how can I explain it to someone else?”

He held the spoon in front of my mouth.

After I sucked it clean, he didn’t shoot off another question. Hmm. Seemed Mr. Nosy was having difficulty concentrating.

Then he snapped out of it. “You aren’t happy that things are undefined between us?”

“They’re defined; you’re Mimi’s dad and I’m her mom.”

“Try again.” Jax overfilled the spoon with ice cream and a good swipe of whipped cream before he popped it in his mouth.

I made a frustrated noise. “I hate when you push me. Hate it.”

“I hate when you throw up a wall.”

Had we made any progress in changing our communication style or were we back to square one?

“You told me something you hate about me. Now tell me something you love—and I mean love, not like.” He held the spoon to my lips again. “Have a taste while you’re narrowing down the list—I know it’s hella long.”

I laughed. “That, right there, is something I’ve always loved about you. You have a quick sense of humor.” I eased forward to take the ice cream. “Your turn. Tell me something you love about me.”