Page 39 of Single-Minded
“I’d love to,” I said easily, thinking it sounded much better than going home to an oversized, half-empty house. I really needed to look into a dog.
“Sam’s got a babysitting gig this evening. I’m in,” Rowan said.
“You know I’m in,” Magnolia said.
“The Diner? Humble’s? Henry’s? The Cove? What sounds good?” Chloe asked.
“I could use some of Cash’s hummingbird cake,” I said. If we were celebrating, we’d need dessert.
“I’m up for a splurge,” Magnolia said.
“Henry’s is always good,” Rowan agreed.
“I’ll text Seth to get us a table if he’s still there.” Chloe sent another message off as we stood.
I turned off the lights and picked up my keys and cross-body bag.
“Ladies?” Magnolia said as we prepared to leave. “Thank you. This means the world to me. I’m more excited than terrified now.”
We collapsed into a group hug. Once I locked the door, the four of us walked along the wet sidewalks toward Henry’s, laughing and making predictions for our two new businesses, then suggesting girl names for Rowan’s baby. We started out serious, but then we turned to outrageous suggestions, trying to one-up each other with bad ideas.
As we crossed Honeysuckle Road to Henry’s, I thought about how I hadn’t had a group of girlfriends since high school, had mainly just had Chloe, and then she’d moved here to Dragonfly Lake.
I loved this. It felt good to laugh, to be lighthearted, to think of things besides investments and finance. Things like coffee and startups and friendships that meant everything.
For the first time since I’d moved to Dragonfly Lake, I had the feeling I might be able to belong in this little town.
Chapter Eleven
West
Jagger McNamara and I had been friends since kindergarten, but we didn’t get to hang out often anymore, thanks to work schedules and me being a dad.
He might’ve been a wild child growing up, but he had a good heart and a soft spot for my princesses. He made a point of taking us out on his boat at least a couple of times each summer. This evening was our first such ride of the season.
I’d finished work at Presley’s and left at four to pick up a picnic dinner from Country Market’s deli—cold fried chicken that Sienna would turn her nose up at, cheese cubes, dinner rolls, and grapes. Wanting to give the girls an extra treat, I’d stopped by Sugar and bought a dozen cookies. Then I’d relieved Allie a few minutes earlier than usual.
Jagger had zipped us across the lake in his bowrider to a quiet cove where we swam off the back of the boat then devoured our dinner.
I’d managed to keep the bakery box hidden until now, so as I slid it out of a Country Market bag, Scarlet gasped.
“Daddy got cookies!” she hollered.
“Yummy,” Nova shouted.
“Did you get us Esmerelda’s favorite kind?” Sienna asked, blessedly quieter than her sisters.
“I got something even better,” I said, holding the box up, the lid still closed.
The three little piglets, who’d eaten big dinners—even Sienna had filled up on everything but the chicken—their appetites undoubtedly increased by swimming, clamored around me as if I hadn’t fed them for a week.
“Go sit in your places in the bow, and I’ll bring the cookies,” I said, hoping to limit crumbs to that section.
I didn’t have to tell them twice. All three bounced to the front, sat on the cushioned benches, and looked up at me expectantly like little birds. I bent down and flipped the lid open with fanfare so they could see.
Nova’s mouth popped open.
Sienna sucked in her breath.
