"Oh, and the guy called me a girl too," Calder added.
"What do you mean he called you a girl? I thought you ran and hid?"
"Umm, after I started to get away from him he said, ‘Hey little girl' and I turned to tell him that I wasn't a girl."
"What did this guy look like?"
"A giant. With lots of muscles."
"Light hair? Dark hair?"
"Light hair. Long, kinda like mine."
No wonder Jensen Lund had knocked on my door looking so pissed off. "Did you apologize?"
Calder lowered his chin. "I forgot."
"Did you happen to see where he lives?"
"Right across the hall."
"First thing after supper you're going to apologize to him."
"Okay."
"Second thing: Is being bored an excuse to break my house rules?"
His head dipped again. "No."
"We've lived in this apartment building a week, Calder. Everyone is a stranger. You know better than to go anywhere by yourself."
He glanced up at me, his pale brown eyes full of remorse. "I'm sorry, Mommy."
"We'll figure out your consequences after we eat. The last question . . ." I paused. "Since when do you call your penis a pee-shooter?"
"Uncle Martin said to call it a pee-shooter when I'm a little dude because all it's good for is shooting pee. He said when I'm a big dude, I can call it a love gun."
Jesus, Martin, really? You had to break it down that much for your nephew? "In our house, it is not called a pee-shooter."
Calder's eyes took on a defiant glint. "Uncle Martin said you'd say that. He told me that since I have one-and you don't-I should get to call it whatever I want."
Seriously. Martin had to have been high during that conversation. But now wasn't the time to argue terminology with a hungry six-year-old. "We'll talk later." I pointed at the hallway. "Wash your hands."
Sagging against the counter, I considered my options with the Alicia situation. Did I call her now or wait until I'd calmed down? Would I be calmer before or after I marched my son across the hall to face Jensen Lund?
I wasn't looking forward to that.
• • •
Calder and I both dragged our feet until we reached Jensen's door. I knocked briskly four times.
A minute later the door swung open.
He seemed as shocked to see us as I was to see him. Half-naked. He'd answered the door bare-chested, in just a pair of athletic shorts.
Holy crap.
Every day I worked with athletes and their honed physiques, but this man's upper body was on a whole different level of perfection. Every inch smoothly sculpted from hours of repetition to get the maximum benefit of those massive muscles.
Thankfully he hadn't noticed me staring slack-jawed at his killer chest. He was too busy eyeing Calder and placing one knee over the other as protection from another groin shot.
Calder blurted out, "I'm sorry that I ran into your pee-shooter and ran away."
Jensen's focus moved to me and his eyes narrowed. "Slamming shit without explanation or apology must be a family trait."
I raised my chin. "I tend to get annoyed when a stranger knocks on my door demanding to know who I am."
"Your door?" His gaze flicked to our apartment then back to me. "When I left a little over two weeks ago, Martin and Verily lived across from me."
"I'm subleasing their place."
"Does Bob know?"
"Bob the apartment complex manager? Yes, he knows."
He frowned. "Why didn't Martin tell me he planned to move out?"
"Martin hates saying good-bye. It's a thing with him. He's always been like that."
"How do you know Martin so well?"
"He's my brother."
"Seems there's a lot I didn't know about Martin." He took his hands off his hips and scrubbed them over his face before running a hand through his hair.
I watched the flex of his biceps and triceps. Talk about arm porn.
Knock it off, Rowan.
But my gaze dipped to that gorgeous eight-pack. I swallowed a sigh and a tiny puddle of drool that'd formed in my mouth.
"Can we come in?" my snoopy son asked.
Jensen absentmindedly stepped back to allow us access.
A small entryway funneled into the living area, which was completely filled with the biggest couch I'd ever seen.
"This is totally cool," Calder exclaimed. "Do you ever jump on it like a trampoline?"
I'd bet Jensen has tested the bounce factor of every piece of this couch multiple times, but not in the same way Calder was thinking, I thought snarkily.