Page 3 of Single-Minded
Flora: I can get them at daycare.
West: They have a full-time babysitter at our place. Where do you plan to take them?
Flora: Gil wants Dragonfly Diner. We’ll go there.
I clenched my back teeth together. She put her boyfriend’s desires over our girls’. Every. Single. Time.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but she continually disappointed me. That was Flora though. She’d been fun when we first met in the army. She’d gotten pregnant before we’d even thought whether we could make it long-term, but did that stop us from trying? Hell no. If I had a dollar for every bad decision I’d made where relationships were concerned, I could retire.
West: Pick them up at my place. Have them home by five.
Flora: We’ll be done before that. Gil needs to be in Nashville by six.
Fucking fantastic.
I didn’t respond. I had nothing else to say, at least nothing civil or productive.
I drove by Max’s house and verified his house number was two lots down from my target.
When I spotted the right numbers on a mailbox, my brows went up. Ms. Holiday’s house was cottage-style, but that term was misleading because cottage made you think small. There was nothing small about this place.
The exterior was white siding with gray stonework. The structure was an L-shape, one side a connected three-car garage with a bonus room above it, complete with a cupola. On the garage.
Definitely seven figures, I thought as I pulled up along the curb and killed the engine. I could see why Levi claimed this was gonna be a showpiece.
As I climbed out of the truck, I got another text message.
Flora: Tell the girls I’ll see them tomorrow.
“Go to hell,” I said under my breath, my irritation flooding right back in. Flora had that effect on me.
I pulled my tool belt out and put it on, catching myself in a scowl.
The bitch of it was, while Flora annoyed me with everything out of her mouth—or her fingertips in this case—I was more pissed at myself when it came to her. She was Exhibit A in the case of me rushing in with a woman.
When we’d met, we’d been all about lust and cutting loose. We’d had fun together. Just before I was discharged, we found out she was three months pregnant. Flora’s discharge was two months after mine.
I’d known she wasn’t ready to settle down, but I also knew everything changed when babies came into the mix. I convinced her to give us a chance and move to Dragonfly Lake with me.
Looking back, I could see she was never going to be content in a small town. She likely wouldn’t be happy in a big city either. What Flora apparently preferred was roaming, living on the road, and avoiding responsibility.
I should’ve seen that early on. When we’d started having problems, before the twins were even born, I should’ve faced that and let her go. Instead we were on and off for years, long enough for Nova to be conceived. My youngest daughter was the sole reason I couldn’t regret being a stubborn dumbass who didn’t know when to throw in the towel.
As I walked up the driveway, I fought to shove my irritation away. This job was important. My chance to prove myself. To prove that, while I was shit at relationships, I had value when it came to my career.
I rang the doorbell and eventually heard someone approaching inside. I stood taller and forced my mind away from my ex, toward exceeding expectations on this project.
When the door opened and I laid eyes on the client, my heart skipped a beat.
Holy shit balls.
Ms. Holiday was not a sixty-year-old widow.
I’d seen this woman before. I’d noticed her at Chance and Rowan’s party a couple of weeks ago before I’d had to run out for a kid emergency. How the hell could I not notice her?
She was beautiful, with piercing blue eyes beneath long lashes, unadorned lips that curved into a sexy-without-trying smile, and an air about her that spoke of money and class, in spite of her casual outfit of cutoff denim shorts that revealed gorgeous legs, a sleeveless top with a halter neckline that showed off sexy, delicate shoulders, and blinged-out flip-flops my daughters would drool over.
Ah, hell.
