Page 75 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

“Like the diner, but?—”

“Everyone who works there is a family member, and?—”

As they go on like this, finishing each other’s sentences, arguing about one point, agreeing on another, it suddenly hits me. They remind me of Leia and Eli back in high school. And that mouth twist Owen just did—that was Eli too.

Son of abitch.

Riley gasps. “Aunt Avery! Did you just cuss for real?”

“Um, no.” I jump up from my seat and move papers around. “I said son of a biscuit, like I always do, but that’s bad enough. Thanks for the info, guys, but I just realized I’m supposed to…”

I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with this info. If it is actually information. If Leia wanted me to know that Travis isn’t the twins’ father, she would’ve told me. Maybe not back in high school, when the year and a half age difference made her seem much older, but surely she’d have confessed at some point in the past fourteen years.

I could be way off base, anyway. The two men have similar coloring. If Eli worked out, he’d have the same build as Travis. And even if it were true, Travis and Leia do an amazing job of co-parenting the twins; they always have. No need to stir up a hornets’ nest for no good reason.

“Are you okay, Aunt Avery?”

“Of course. Thanks again for your help.”

After a shared glance that makes it clear they know something’s up, they say, “Ohhh-kaaay” in tandem before Riley pushes Owen out of the way so she can beat him out the door.

“Does this look like a penis?”

I never had a one-on-one meeting with the mayor of Climax before, but this is not how I imagined things would go. The woman looks more like a New York fashionista than a small-town bureaucrat, but that makes her query and the picture she’s holding up even more confusing.

“Um, rocket ship is the first thing that came to mind, actually,” I fib. Not saying the p-word to the mayor, even if she said it first.

“Ugh. This damn artist we hired to create a new logo for Climax keeps making the clock tower look like a pecker.”

“Maybe if they made those bushes less prominent,” I suggest, pointing at the rounded forms at the base of the tower.

“Those don’t even exist in real life! I told her I need more City of Love, less City of Dying by Mercury Poisoning, but I can’t have a logo that looks like a schlong! And the neon glow? It’s like we’re selling radioactive sex toys or something.”

Muttering obscenities that would make a sailor blush, she slaps the paper with the offending image face down on her desk before looking up at me like she forgot I was here. With a flick of her hand, she orders me to sit.

Flinching slightly, I perch on the edge of a chair. But before I can hand her a copy of my proposal, she folds her hands in front of her and leans closer. “Speaking of our clock and its magical properties, how was your”—she waggles her eyebrows suggestively—“weekend away with Climax’s newest eligible bachelor?”

Since Eli was the one who was supposed to go to the conference, I ask, “You mean Elijah Ransom?”

She huffs. “No, not Ransom. He’s obviously hung up on someone from his past. I mean the adorable, widowed father. Find any harmony with Mr. Harmon?”

“But Josh wasn’t even supposed to go on the trip. Nor was I, for that matter. How do you?—”

She waves an irritated hand in the air. “It’s my job to know everything that goes on in this town, missy.”

High school civics was a long time ago, but I’m pretty sure that gossiping about town employees’ love lives is not in the mayor’s job description.

“Especially when it means I might get a fresh story for the CCC.” She picks up a copy of the town’s weekly paper and opens it to point at a column on the second page. “The Climax Clock Column, see? I’m hoping to revive interest in our town as a romantic getaway with tales of the clock that predicts true love.”

I clear my throat, needing to get back on track. “Mr. Harmon and I did indeed have a fruitful weekend?—”

The mayor gasps, a hand to her heart.

“Not that kind of fruit,” I assure her, even as my cheeks heat just saying his name. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am here to talk about a proposal for a new after-school childcare program at CPR. Inspired by a workshop at the conference,” I add, in response to her frown.

“Fine,” she says on a sigh. “I guess that’s important too.”

Fifteen minutes later, I have the mayor’s stamp of approval. Problem is, she pointed out that Trede will have to sign off on it, since it requires a shift in resources. I’m not ready to talk to Josh, so I suppose that means I’m going straight to the top.

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