Page 26 of Caught Up In You

He’s sitting across from me as I type this and seems to have no idea I’m on my phone. Or that I’m even here

I think I’m the DD on this date

Owen

Call him an Uber and get the hell out of there

Wyatt

You’re a genius

MARCH 11 AT 8:29 PM

Wyatt

A very weird thing just happened. I tried to pay the bill for the worst meal in history and the waitress told me it had already been taken care of

Owen

Lucky you

Wyatt

Yeah…you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?

Owen

Have a good night, Wyatt

CHAPTER 10

WYATT

March 17

“The party’s here!” I call as soon as I wrestle the stroller through the front door of Dog-Eared Books, Grace’s new bookstore.

“My favorite ladies!” Grace hustles out from behind the counter. She immediately drops to her knees in front of the stroller, chucking Eden on the nose and cheeks and eliciting the most delicious belly laugh.

“We’re hitting the town so Mama can do her online botany class without that pterodactyl screech you’ve been working on, right?” I say to her gummy little smile, and in reply, she gives us a perfect demonstration of the ear-splitting scream she’s become so fond of.

“Good lord, you’re gonna be a loudmouth just like your auntie Wyatt, aren’t you?” Grace says.

“The world should be so lucky,” I reply.

The bell on the door of the shop tinkles, and in walks Carson, fresh from school dismissal. Or at least I hope she is and thatthe red tights, red bubble skirt, and red blouse aren’t some new monochromatic fashion statement.

“It’s color week at school,” Carson says before I can even ask. “Today was red day, and that’s why I look like a jar of marinara.”

“That skirt is cute, though,” I tell her. It emphasizes the way her round butt narrows to her nipped-in little waist. With her long, loose strawberry-blond curls and dangerous curves, she looks like she was painted by Botticelli.

“Thanks, my mother thinks it’s too short,” Carson replies.

“You’re twenty-five, what could it possibly matter what your mother thinks of your clothes?” I ask. Lord knows I’d be tempted to throw hands if Libby uttered one word about the contents of my closet. Of course she’s too buys stealing my clothes to get on me about them. I’m damn near ready to put a padlock on my closet door.

“It’s hard to claim the high ground when I’m still living in her house,” Carson grumbles, and then she groans. “I’vegotto get out of there. Ever since my dad retired it’s like micromanaging my life is their new hobby. Don’t they know they’re supposed to be playing pickleball, not trying to set me up with every eligible man at their church?”

“If you can hang on until our house is done, you can move into my apartment,” offers Grace. She and Decker bought a few acres out near the quarry and are in the process of building their dream house, complete with a half-size indoor rink out back. As soon as the season is over—and we’re all hoping that doesn’t happen until the Stanley Cup Finals—he’ll be back in Cardinal Springs for good.

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