Page 6 of Big Bad Single Wolf Dad

I watch the pale man brush his hands on his jeans before slapping a toothy smile on his face.

“What was I just doing?” Mike runs a hand through his perpetually disheveled hair. “More dishes, right?”

“Less dishes, more lights.” I point to where the gazebo’s outer frame could use more lights. Or in Lily-bear’s vocabulary, dazzle. As this is one of my daughter’s favorite places, I expect the decorations will be up for weeks if not longer.

“Got it.” Mike spins on a heel and fast-walks through the garden. “Back in a flash.”

“Feel free to avoid the koi pond at all costs!” I yell, then distract myself by picking up the plates on the ground. I roll the table to the gazebo’s second entrance and lock the wheels. No need for another fall from Mike on my conscience.

I look down at the colorful rug at my feet and wonder if it needs another deep clean. I want Sarah to smell the garden and food, not whatever dirt still lingers in the near-priceless fabric. I wonder if Sarah is a rug girl, then smirk at myself. A rug girl? Really? I can think of better small talk than that…

Just not right now. “Damn,” I whisper under my breath as Mike limps my way.

I hold a hand over my brows and squint in his direction. The zombie’s wet leg slaps against his dry one, which is just about all I can see of him.

Boxes of fairy lights shroud his view and mine. I close the space between us quickly and grab all but two boxes.

“Only one fallen soldier!” Mike says, kicking his wet leg and shaking the two boxes as he passes me to the gazebo. “I can go back and pick –”

I know it’s the dishes I just picked up before my head has a chance to turn. I flinch and sail up the steps just in time to see Mike rolling off the tipped table.

“I thought… I thought my plan was foolproof,” he huffs. I don’t know what else to do but watch and pat his shoulder. It’s not like Mike’s a kid.

“What plan?” I help him up as he gulps for air, slipping on a box as he regains his footing.

“To go around.” He’s smiling, but I’m not sure how much he means it.

“You need a second?” I ask, gesturing to the plethora of cozy cabana seating.

“Maybe two…” he breathes, and I chew my lower lip. The guy could use a drink.

“Tell you what,” I say, gesturing to a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. “Let’s split this baby and finish faster.”

I pour two generous glasses and hand one to Mike.

“You sure?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle. “That’s just about the only thing in here not broken besides the furniture.”

“I know. Why do you think I’m pouring?” I hold a glass out for Mike, which the zombie giddily grabs, somehow knocking the entire bottle out of my other hand. We rush for cover as the bottle falls with a loud clack, spinning and spewing across the brightly lit gazebo.

4

SARAH

What am I doing? It feels too soon. I know that sounds ridiculous. If this many years without Hunter aren’t enough to move on, then how many will it take?

I want to say I’m thinking of my children. What happens if I get in too deep and it doesn’t work out again? I don’t want to put them through that.

But I also need to face the fact that I may be using them as an excuse. Mia and Ethan have been without a stable father figure for so long. Heaven knows Hunter has little to no interest in stepping up when they need him. What if this works out? What if I open my heart and Greg makes it worth my time and effort?

What if indeed.

I look at the bouquet still sitting in its cardboard delivery box on the kitchen counter.

A note attached to the stems reads, To a beautiful woman. Love, Eric. He’s laying it on really thick, but I’m not sure I’m completely buying his gestures. He seems a lot more interested in just me, and not the entire package of me and my two kids.

I don’t want to give him the time of day. The idea of two men pursuing me at once makes me dizzy and a little overwhelmed.

“Mommy, you look pretty!” Ethan cries as he wanders into the room with his stuffed cat toy held tightly in his arms.

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