“Well, hello.” Jordan, with the twins still wearing their swimsuits and cover-ups, noisily entered the store. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Dillon. Painting something?” He leaned on the paint counter with a curious expression.
Before she could answer him, the twins yelled out happy greetings, running over to hug and greet her, treating her like their long-lost best friend, and giving Dillon an excuse to momentarily ignore their dad. “Did you girls get your ice cream treat for doing so well in class today?” she asked them. “Because you were both fabulous.”
“Nope.” Emma firmly shook her head. “Not yet!”
“Silly Uncle Jordan said we had to come here first,” Chloe explained with equal exasperation. “He’s s’posed to check something.”
“Uncle Jordan?” Dillon couldn’t help but repeat this.
“Yeah.” Chloe nodded. “He said no ice cream till we’re done here.”
“Hurry up, Uncle Jordan.” Emma poked him in the back. “We need ice cream.”
“Patience, please.” He turned around, kneeling to look at the girls. “Tell you what, ladies, I’ll let you pick one thing from over there.” He pointed to the snack rack beside the register. “As long as you promise not to tell your mother.”
They gave their word and were immediately distracted with the colorful assortment in the snack section, instantly arguing about which was the best choice.
Now Jordan smiled at Dillon. “So Ryan tells me you’re painting your Oasis.”
Too flustered to answer, she simply nodded. Was Jordan really the uncle—not the dad? Not Janelle’s husband? Had Dillon simply jumped to the wrong conclusion?
“By hand?” he persisted.
“Well, I was planning to use brushes and rollers,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I figured that much.” He pointed to the can already mixed. “Well, you’ve got the right product for it. As long as you follow the manufacturers’ recommendations, you should be okay.”
“What recommendations do you mean?”
“For instance, you need the right temperature. Not too hot. Not too cold.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Well, I plan to start painting tomorrow. And I think the temperature is supposed to be fairly moderate this weekend.”
“Need any help?”
“Help?” She still felt off-kilter. “What kind of help?”
“Well, to be honest, I’d like an excuse to see the old Aloha Oasis. But I can be a pretty hard worker too. Two of us painting would make it go a lot faster. Might even wrap most of it up in a day. A long day.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
He nodded. “Sure. It’d be fun.”
She still felt uncertain about his relationship with Emma and Chloe. Sometimes divorced moms would call their boyfriends “uncles.” What if that was the case here? She glanced to where the girls were still making their selections. “So Emma and Chloe are your nieces.” She tried to sound casual. “I kind of assumed you were their dad.”
He grinned. “Well, I’ve probably stepped in like a dad at times. Especially after Janelle’s husband stepped out a couple years ago. I try to make myself available.”
“So Janelle’s last name is Atwood too?” Dillon hoped she didn’t sound nosy, but she’d double-checked the roster the day after Jordan had picked the twins up. “Does that mean she was married to your brother then?”
“No. My baby sister was married to a jerk. She took back her maiden name after an unhappy divorce. Can’t say I blame her either.”
“I see.” Dillon felt a rush of pure joy. So Janelle was Jordan’s sister. Of course, it all made sense now.
“Paint’s ready,” Ryan announced.
“Great!” Although Dillon no longer felt the need to hurry, she turned to pick up the cardboard box of paint cans, but Jordan beat her to it, carrying it over to the register. “Have someone help her out with this,” he instructed the cashier.
“Thanks,” Dillon told him.
“So what time then?” He waited.
“What time . . . ?” She still felt dazed.
“When do you plan to get started tomorrow?” His eyes brightened. “Or maybe I should ask, when’s breakfast?”
“Breakfast.” She nodded. “How does seven sound?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” He went to check on his nieces, and still feeling stunned, Dillon paid for her purchase. But as Ryan carried her paint out to her car, she wondered . . . This news still didn’t guarantee that Jordan wasn’t married. What if she’d simply jumped from one wrong conclusion to another? She opened the hatchback, waiting as Ryan set the box in. “Thanks.” She smiled nervously. “Uh, can I ask you a question?”
“You bet.” He nodded.
“Is Jordan Atwood married?”
“Nope.” Ryan laughed. “He’s not. Some people claim he’s the most available bachelor in Silverdale, but if you ask me, the dude’s unavailable.” He closed her hatchback.
“Unavailable?”
He nodded. “No girl’s been able to catch him. And, trust me, plenty are trying. Including my older sister—until she gave up. Now, instead of calling him an eligible bachelor, she calls him an eternal bachelor.”
“Oh, well . . .” She smiled stiffly, trying to think of something else to say.
“Yep. We see it all the time in the store. Females coming in here for random items that we doubt they really need.” He laughed. “One lady will buy something one day then return it the next. She really gets some bang for her buck.”
“Well, you don’t need to mention that I asked.” She attempted to appear nonchalant. “I was just curious. You know, because his nieces are in my swim class, and I’d mistaken him for their dad. Anyway, have a nice day, Ryan. Thanks.”
By the time she got behind the wheel, her cheeks felt overly warm and flushed. And it wasn’t from the sun either. In fact, her sunburn had settled into a nice golden tan. But as she drove through town, she could imagine Ryan informing Jordan of her inquiry. And why not? They could share a good laugh over it.
Well, at least she knew the whole truth now. Jordan Atwood was not married, and according to Ryan, he was not available. As she turned down the farm road, she wondered if Jordan was simply another Brandon—emotionally unavailable and afraid of commitment. The eternal bachelor. Leave it to her to be attracted to another guy like that! When would she learn?
CHAPTER
14
Since Dillon had renovated and taken up occupancy of her little Oasis, she hadn’t spent much time inside Grandpa’s house lately. And to be honest, she didn’t want to. She still helped with meals and KP, but assuming that Margot had moved to the farm in order to “help out,” it was only right to let Margot take responsibility for running the household. Besides, Dillon figured Margot was probably glad to have her out of her hair.
Despite her trailer focus, Dillon still maintained her grandma’s garden, which was coming along nicely. And with the trailer in good shape, she’d decided to spend the rest of her Friday afternoon catching up on some garden chores. After the weeding and a few other things, she sat down on the lawn swing, determined to leisurely enjoy the rest of the pleasant summer afternoon. She was overdue for a break—and trailer painting tomorrow might be a long day. Stretched out on the lawn swing, she was just dozing off when she heard the slow creak of the garden-gate hinge.