Page 44 of Single-Minded
“Tell me about it. Bedtime will be fun tonight,” I said. “Actually between the swimming and the boat ride, odds are at least one of them will pass out on the three-minute drive home from the marina.”
Jagger laughed, and I was pretty sure it was at my expense. “It never gets old,” he said.
“Your day will come,” I told him. To Presley, I said, “We’ll get out of your hair. Thanks for welcoming my three little tornadoes.”
As Jagger headed down the hill, calling out a challenge to the girls to see who could get to the dock first, she flashed me a heated look and said, “Anytime. If they ever want to kayak in pretty boats, let me know.”
“As many boats as you bought today,” I told her, “we’d still be one short.”
“I can fix that.” She said it with a challenge accepted tone.
“Don’t you dare,” I said, unsure whether she was serious, but I could easily imagine her trekking back to Lake Life Outfitters tomorrow and picking up yet another kayak.
We got the kids on board and said our goodbyes. As Jagger eased the boat backward and the girls chattered in the seats at the bow, I watched Presley pick up her paddle and make her way up the hill in the waning light of dusk.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Jagger said. “You didn’t mention your client looked like that.”
“Why would I?”
“The bigger question is, why didn’t you?” He said it as if that meant something.
Which, if I was honest with myself, it did, but honesty with oneself might not always be the best policy.
The thing I couldn’t hide from though? The one that was maybe even more alarming than how much I was physically attracted to her?
I liked how kind she was to my daughters. I liked that she called them the smart-girl brigade. I liked that she could handle the chaos of an impromptu visit with grace and friendliness. I…
Fuck.
I just plain liked her.
It would be so much easier if I didn’t.
Chapter Twelve
Presley
I’d met Kemp Essex a couple of years ago, when Chloe had moved back to town and married Holden, Kemp’s business partner and best friend.
Kemp was a flirt with the goods to back it up—he was a tall drink of water to look at and had a body that probably inspired fantasies in a lot of women. I liked him a lot, but as for attraction, he was more like a brother to me. I couldn’t explain it, just like I couldn’t explain what it was about West Aldridge that drew me in like an ant to honey.
Kemp was my date for Harper and Max’s wedding tonight, encouraged by Chloe and Holden since both Kemp and I had planned to attend solo. Now I had a dance partner for the evening, one who would hopefully keep my mind off West, who was also in attendance.
The five-p.m. wedding ceremony had taken place on the lakeside terrace at the Honeysuckle Inn. The weather had been about as good as one could expect in Tennessee in June—clear skies and hot. They’d kept the ceremony itself short. Guests had then enjoyed a cocktail hour on the upper terrace, which was shaded and slightly cooler. We’d later moved inside to the air-conditioned ballroom for a memorable sit-down dinner.
Now I stood between Chloe and Kemp, lining the dance floor with the rest of the guests, watching Max and Harper’s first dance as husband and wife.
The thing that struck me about Harper and Max was the unmistakable connection between them. Some newlywed couples seemed to perform their first dance for the guests. These two? They were lost in their own world, oblivious to the dozens of people watching, talking intimately, as if it were just the two of them.
“They’re gorgeous,” Chloe said.
“They’re practically sparkling with happiness,” I said, my eyes on the bride and groom—until I spotted West on the opposite side of the dance floor.
I’d seen him sitting with Luke, one of the guys in the dad group, at the ceremony. At dinner, West had been on the opposite side of the large room from me, so while I’d definitely noticed him, it’d been from afar, with a side view as he sat at his table.
Now? I got my first full view of my brawny contractor in dress clothes. Once I noticed him in his light-colored dress pants, white open-collar shirt, and slightly darker jacket, I forgot the bride and groom were even dancing.
I couldn’t ignore how his arm muscles bulged in his jacket sleeves or the way that open shirt made my fingers itch to trail downward, unbutton the rest, and strip it all off.
