Page 25 of Whiskey Wednesdays

I swatted my dad’s arm to get him to stop talking. “Okay, braggy parent. Enough.”

Connor eyed me. “You weren’t lying when you said you’d be busy.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“And you’re going to be a PA.” He leaned back. “How old are you?”

“Old enough,” I retorted.

Dad took a sip of water. “She’s twenty-three. She’ll be twenty-four in March.”

I pointed at him. “Hey, diarrhea of the mouth, he doesn’t need to know everything.”

Elodie wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Gross, Belly.”

Connor chuckled. “Yeah, Belly. That’s gross.”

They both laughed. Connor’s laugh was as nice as his smile. I really needed to stop noticing things like that. And stay the hell away from this man. He looked at me and cocked his eyebrow, like he knew exactly what I was thinking, and he was having none of it.

Chapter 8

When Connor came by Dad’s house to pick Elodie up a few days later, I met him at the door.

“We need to talk.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “Okay. About what?”

“Elodie and her hair. She starts school next week, and she’ll be the new kid.”

He straightened and frowned. “I know.”

“You let her pick out her own clothes.”

“Yeah, and that’s not going to change. It seems important to her.”

I nodded and moved back so he could come in. “Good. I think it helps kids develop a healthy sense of self. But her hair needs some love.”

“I thought about getting it cut,” he admitted, following me into the kitchen.

“How’d she like that idea?”

“She didn’t. She yelled at me for the first time.”

I snickered. “I wish I would have been there.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I looked away. “I can, uh, show you a few cute and easy hairstyles if you want.”

His lip twitched. “It’s hard for you to be nice to me, isn’t it?”

I didn’t even try to deny it. “Yep. You’re like fingernails on the chalkboard of my soul. But she’s worth it.”

Connor grinned. “She is. She reminds me of you in some ways.”

I didn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant. Elodie skipped over and grabbed his hand.

“How’re you doing, sweetheart?” he asked her.

“Great! Shawnda only scratched me once.”

He looked down at a small scratch on her arm. “I guess that’s good?”

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