The Mummy Makeover / Mummy for Hire. Cathy Gillen Thacker

turned onto their block and sent a quick look Stormy’s way. “Are you two going steady?”

      Stormy wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”

      Obviously that whole concept was passé. “Are you two a couple?”

      “He’s going to be at the party next Friday.”

      She pulled into the driveway much faster than necessary and managed to stop before plowing into the garage door. “What party?”

      “Kaylee’s birthday party. Don’t you remember?”

      No, Erica didn’t, but then her mind had been wandering quite a bit lately. After putting the car in Park and turning off the ignition, she shifted to face her daughter. “This is a boy-girl party?”

      Stormy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Mom. We’re too old for baby parties.”

      Erica didn’t consider not quite eleven as too old for anything except perhaps a tricycle. “I might not remember you mentioning this party, but I do know I haven’t given you permission to go.”

      Stormy put on the pouty face that she wore so well. “I have to go, Mom. Everyone in the fifth grade’s going. It’s not like Kaylee’s parents won’t be there.”

      Erica found little comfort in that fact considering she’d only met Kaylee’s mom maybe twice. “I’ll talk to her parents and then I’ll let you know if you can go. Okay?”

      “Okay.” Stormy fell silent for a moment before she asked, “Was Daddy the first boy you kissed?”

      He’d been the only boy she’d kissed until they broke up for about five minutes their senior year of high school. She’d made the mistake of going out with Bobby Frank Feldon after a football game, a boy who had fast hands and no respect for girls. After that night, she’d appreciated Jeff even more, and they never spent a moment apart again. “Yes, Daddy was the first boy I kissed.”

      “Do you miss kissing him?”

      Until tonight, she hadn’t given kissing much thought. She’d intentionally not thought about it for several years, because if she did, she’d only be inviting the familiar ache, the sense of loneliness she’d tried so hard to discount. “I’m missing my favorite TV show, so let’s get into the house.”

      Stormy scooted out of the car while Erica retrieved her gym bag and followed her inside. She was incredibly tired, extremely hungry and somewhat bewildered. Things were moving too fast in her life, with her relationship with her child and her indisputable attraction to a man who was basically off-limits.

      She wondered if Kieran had given her any thought since she’d left the club—given their kiss any thought. More than likely, he’d probably blow it off and go about his business, never to think about it again.

      “That was one hot redhead you were ‘working out’ with, Kieran.”

      As predicted, Kieran would be forced to defend himself before he’d even entered the door of his parents’ house. He’d already given himself a sufficient chastising for letting things get out of hand with Erica, and for reliving that kiss over and over in his mind most of the previous night.

      “I told you, Aidan, she’s a client. End of discussion.”

      “If you say so.”

      At least his brother had enough class to make sure no one else was standing in the driveway before he’d started hounding him. Speaking of driveways…the minute he’d pulled up, he’d noticed the place wasn’t the usual parking lot. “Where is everyone?” Kieran asked as he followed Aidan up the steps to the porch.

      “It’s just me, you, Corri and Dad. Devin’s on call and Stacy’s at her parents’ house with the boys,” he said. “Since J.D.’s with his dad, Jenna and Logan went away for the weekend.”

      “Which means she’ll be pregnant by tonight.”

      Aidan laughed. “Probably. Anyway, Kevin’s—”

      “Not around.” Nothing new there. Kieran never expected to see his twin at family gatherings these days. “Where’s Mom?”

      “She went over to Mallory’s to deliver chicken soup because Whit and the girls have colds, and that means we get sandwiches.”

      “No pot roast?” Their mother’s cooking was the high point of Kieran’s week and one of the primary reasons he made an effort to be there.

      “No pot roast today. But I don’t care as long as the twins aren’t here to expose the kid to a virus.”

      “Which kid?”

      Aidan frowned. “My kid. Emma, in case you’ve forgotten.”

      Maybe he did need a chart. “Oh, yeah. I remember her now. Cute baby, curly blond hair, looks like her mother, thank God.”

      “You’re damned hilarious.” Aidan pulled the screen open but continued to block the entry. “By the way, Emma’s asleep in our old room, so be quiet.”

      Kieran could handle quiet. His father, on the other hand, didn’t know the meaning of the word.

      He stepped inside to find Aidan’s wife, Corri, seated on the sofa, a tray of sandwiches set out on the coffee table before her, and his dad, good old Dermot, fast asleep in his favorite lounger.

      Corri straightened and smiled. “Hey, Kieran. Glad you could make it. We were beginning to feel like pariahs.”

      Aidan dropped onto the sofa and rested his hand on Corri’s thigh. “I was kind of enjoying the silence for a change.”

      After grabbing a soda from the fridge in the kitchen and a ham sandwich from the tray, Kieran took the chair kitty-corner from the TV, focusing on the football game in an effort to ignore Aidan, who’d started nuzzling Corri’s neck. He sure as hell didn’t need to see overt displays of affection. He did need to finish eating, get out of there fast and go to the club to work off some excess energy while considering his current predicament—Erica Stevens. Maybe even fantasize about Erica Stevens. A little fantasy never hurt anyone, as long as he didn’t go down the reality road again.

      “Aidan tells me he met your girlfriend, Kieran,” Corri said. “Is this the former gymnast Mallory mentioned to me a few days ago?”

      If he hadn’t already swallowed the bite of sandwich, he would’ve choked. “Yeah, she’s the former gymnast. And no, she’s not my girlfriend. I’m her personal trainer.”

      “I’m thinking you’d be a wise man to make her your girlfriend, son.” Apparently his dad had been roused from his nap by his normal curiosity, as well as his penchant for making his opinions known.

      “Why is that, Dad?” Aidan asked, although Kieran wished he hadn’t.

      Dermot released a gruff chuckle. “Because I hear gymnasts are a flexible lot.”

      Aidan and Corri laughed in response. Kieran didn’t. Nothing about the remark was funny. Neither were the explicit images of Erica now running through his mind. Images he pushed away for the time being.

      After wolfing down the sandwich and soda in record time, Kieran escaped to the kitchen to discard the trash. If he played his cards right, he could be out the door before the next round of verbal grilling.

      “Leaving already, Kieran?”

      Kieran glanced to his right to see his brother hovering in the doorway. So much for a fast getaway. “Yeah. I need to stop by the club before I head home.”

      Hands in pockets, Aidan strolled into the room. “Another floor-mat training session with the gymnast?”

      A few years back, Kieran would’ve attempted to knock the smirk off his brother’s face, even if Aidan did have three inches on him. They’d all learned how to fight by fighting each other. But he was more mature now, and throwing a punch in his mother’s kitchen wasn’t