Page 14 of Summer Escape
"Whatever." Hayden slumped on the kitchen stool.
I poured a glass of orange juice and placed it in front of her. "I'm working outside. Let me know if you want to take a look at the program in a bit."
She straightened, her eyes more focused. "That would be great."
I was secretly pleased that she was interested in my work. I'd spent my time since college graduation employed by a PR firm where we worked long hours, competing against each other for assignments. It was cutthroat and kind of exhausting.
I slipped outside, leaving her to herself. When I turned to close the door, she'd lifted the glass to her lips. Maybe the trick was to put things in front of her and not ask what she wanted. I'd have to share my suspicions with Marshall.
I was engrossed in my work for a while. Then Marshall brought out a sandwich with chips and an iced tea.
I smiled up at him, shielding the sun from my face. "You didn't have to feed me."
"Hayden said I should because she wanted to come out to ask about that program and didn't want you to be cranky."
I stood up and stretched, noticing that his gaze followed the slight lift of the hem of my shirt when my arms raised above my head. I lowered my hands and moved my laptop out of the way. "Are you eating too?"
"I don't want to bother you."
"I could use a break."
He grinned. "I'll be right back then."
He was lonely, probably not used to the extra time on his hands now that he wasn't working and Hayden didn't need him. Maybe this arrangement would work out after all. I could be Marshall's friend and help him out with his daughter.
We were completely capable of being platonic despite our history. I just had to ignore the shot of electricity that went through my arm whenever our fingers brushed or he got too close.
Chapter Five
Marshall
I ate a quick lunch with Saylor before Hayden came outside and asked if she'd show her how to use the graphic-design program. Hayden brought her laptop with her, and they quickly set up on the table.
In the kitchen, I took care of the dirty dishes, pleased that Hayden was interested in something besides her phone and her room.
Hopefully, this summer was going to be better than I thought. Maybe double-booking this cottage with the girl I used to love was going to be smooth sailing.
When I decided to leave my career in the military, I had visions of long days at the beach, minigolfing, and dinners at the local restaurants with Hayden. There'd be plenty of family events interspersed in there too. But so far, my family had given us space, and Hayden wasn't interested in quality time with her father.
I carefully rinsed each plate and set them in the dishwasher, keeping an eye on Hayden and Saylor through the window. Their heads were bowed over Saylor's laptop, but I couldn't see what was on the screen.
Saylor was talking animatedly with her hands, and Hayden was nodding. Maybe I should take Saylor up on her suggestion about introducing Hayden to other teenagers on the island.
I sent a text to the family message chain, hoping someone would have a suggestion. It was Hudson who responded first and suggested I talk to Saylor's grandmother, Blaire. Apparently, she knew everyone in the area and could give us some direction.
Grateful for the advice, I typed out a thanks and sat on the couch to read my book. Between Saylor's advice and my research, I was feeling more confident about tackling this teenager thing. I'd always wanted a sibling for Hayden, but my relationship with Billie wasn't a long-term thing. Neither of us wanted more, and now her mother had met someone new and had twin five-year-old boys.
I'd read that one parent starting another family could be difficult for a child, but Hayden hadn't given any indication of that. Instead, she usually spoke of her brothers with affection in her voice.
I must have nodded off because when the sliding door opened, I startled awake. I swung my legs around so that my feet were flat on the floor and scrubbed a hand over my face.
I heard someone come into the room. When I lifted my head, Saylor stood in front of me. "My grandmother has requested our presence this evening. She wants us to take her out to dinner so we can discuss our"—she used quotes with her hands—"living arrangements."
I frowned. "Why would we need to do that?"
"She wants to talk to the man who's living with me." Saylor's eyes danced with amusement.
"We're not living together, at least not like that."
