Page 23 of Single-Minded
“I better get going,” he said.
“Sorry.” I stood too. “When can we meet to start talking details about the shop?”
“If you can be here tomorrow at quitting time, we could head over then. I can ask Allie to stay until five thirty.”
“I can do that.” We walked through the house together as we talked.
“I can put in a full day on Sunday,” he said. “I promised my girls I’d take them to the Honeysuckle Festival Saturday.”
“I heard about that.”
We reached the door to the garage, stopped, and faced each other. “You’re a resident now. Better check the festival out. It’ll force you to take a break from working, at any rate.”
“True.” He didn’t need to know how everything in me detested that thought. “Tell your cuties hi.”
“Yeah,” he said, but something in his tone told me he wouldn’t, and his openness faded slightly, like a wall went up. “Have a good night.”
I thought we’d gotten to friend-like terms in the past few minutes. We’d bonded over having single moms. I’d told him something no one else knew. But his goodbye felt one hundred percent back to you’re my client.
Because I’d mentioned his girls?
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
Had I said something wrong to them yesterday? Or did he just not want me around his kids?
I’d heard of people not wanting their kids to get to know the person they were dating until they were sure it was going somewhere, but we were working together, not dating.
As I watched him walk to his SUV, my eyes on his perfect ass with every step away from me, a thought popped into my head. Spending hours in bed with a guy like him was one way to get away from working all the time.
Too bad he was giving me signs he wasn’t up for that.
Chapter Seven
Presley
I loved Chloe’s extended family. The Henrys had kindly welcomed me into their group Saturday afternoon on the square to gorge ourselves on food truck fare while listening to live music at the Honeysuckle Festival.
They’d managed to grab a spot under one of the big trees and had spread out several blankets picnic-style in the shade. I sat on one with Chloe, Holden, and Sutton, their toddler daughter. Sutton was more interested in watching her three-month-old cousin Bronte, Cash and Ava’s daughter, than in eating her hot dog.
“How’s the Korean rice bowl, Presley?” Quincy asked me. “I couldn’t decide between that and the chicken and waffles.”
“It was delicious,” I said, “but a lot of food.”
“Maybe I’ll go get one of those,” Zane, Hayden’s husband, said.
“Because barbecue and a burger aren’t enough for one man’s lunch,” Hayden teased him.
“I shared the barbecue with our son,” Zane countered. “Our little man can put down the food,” he told the rest of us proudly.
“Must be a growth spurt,” Chloe said. “You sure aren’t packing on the pounds in a bad way, are you, Harrison?” She tickled the two-year-old’s belly, drawing a laugh from him.
“Don’t talk about pounds, please,” Everly said from her spot resting her back against the tree trunk. “I’ve gained three this week alone.”
“Good,” Ava said. “Baby Beckham’s in there growing big and strong.”
Everly was seven and a half months pregnant but looked fantastic, contrary to her worries about gaining too much weight.
“Judging by the kicks, he’s going to be a soccer player,” Everly said, and her husband, Seth, caressed her round abdomen with so much love and tenderness it made me squirm.
