“I wanted to,” she says, sincerity swimming in her dark eyes. “I offered to help in any way I could and, if that means making a few calls, I’m happy to do it.” She smiles softly and I can’t help but return it.
“Thank you.” God, she’s an angel. “And thanks for running out to Greta and Bob’s, too. What do I owe you for their lunch?”
She laughs. “Don’t be silly. That was on me.”
“You don’t even know them.”
“Greta and I have talked at least a dozen times over the past few days. I know her better than anyone else in Cole Creek, at this point.” Our eyes lock for a moment, before her gaze sweeps down my body. “Other than you, of course,” she adds, her voice a little breathless, and I grin.
“Anyway, I’m almost done here. Just need to finish up a couple of things and then head out to get Jett from your mom.” She shuffles some things around on the desk, turns to my computer almost reluctantly, and then blurts out, “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?”
Dinner? With potential for that alone time I’ve been daydreaming about?
“I actually need to run over to Jim Burton’s to check out a job.” I tap the time sheets against my palm and she nods quickly, the prettiest pink rising in her cheeks.
“Oh, okay. No big deal. I just thought maybe—”
“It shouldn’t take too long. An hour, tops.”
Her quick intake of air and the fact that she’s holding it is unmistakable. The hope in those big eyes is hard to miss, too.
“Will that work?” I pray to God it will, because if not, I’m going to have to call Jim and tell him I’ll be by tomorrow, instead. No way am I missing out on this opportunity.
Her sigh is pure relief and—I’m not going to lie—there’s something seriously gratifying about her sudden nervousness. Especially if it means what I’m hoping it does.
“That’s perfect. I have to grab Jett and run to the grocery store, anyway. Let’s say six thirty, if you think you’ll be done at Jim’s by then.”
“Can we make it seven so I can grab a shower first?”
Her cheeks stain pink again as she pushes a loose lock of hair from her face. Imagining me naked, city girl? Go on.
“Of course.” She wets her lips and swallows. “Jett will enjoy having you over.”
Oh, I’m going to enjoy it, too, and not just for Jett.
“Can I bring anything?” I ask, and, like the last two minutes of nervous blushing never happened, she pulls her shoulders back and shakes her head.
“Absolutely not. It would defeat the purpose of the invite.”
“The purpose?”
She simply presses her lips into a smile. “Just be there at seven.”
HAYDEN
I can’t believe I actually invited him over. Like, a real invitation, not just him showing up at the door and me making him eat.
I wanted to extend an invitation on Wednesday, because worrying about whether or not he’s eating dinner before midnight has become a new obsession.
But I held back, needing a little time to figure out what I wanted to say when I got him alone again. Because there are things we need to talk about before I can even think about what happens next.
Because I want what happens next. Sooner than later.
I knew the second I read his letter, but didn’t want to get my hopes up that he’d still be interested. Four years is a long time and, though our lives are intertwined, we’ve lived separate ones since he penned those words and offered me his heart.
By the grace of God or maybe that dang universe knowing what we need better than we do, there’s still something there. I’ve seen it in his eyes and I’ve felt it in his touch, and I want more of it.
It’s just… I can’t rush this.
It’s only been a week since Lane and I broke things off. Our engagement may have ended because of the man who’s due to knock on my door any minute now, but the last thing I need is to say or do something that ruins yet another relationship. A relationship that my son’s happiness and well-being depends on.
The oven timer goes off just as headlights flash outside the kitchen window and my heart begins to race. Here we go, Hayden. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“Guess what, sweet pea?” I shut off the timer and smile at Jett as he practices his name at the table. “Someone special is here to have dinner with us tonight.”
He glances up, a crease of concentration between his blue eyes. “Santa?”
“What? No! It’s barely June.” I laugh. “But he does have a beard.”
“Papa?”
“Try again, baby doll.” I grab the potholders, pull the casserole dish from the oven, and set it on the island next to the guacamole, salsa and chips, just as there’s a knock at the door. “See? Why don’t you let our visitor in while I check the rice?”
He slides off the chair and heads for the door, struggling a bit with the knob before Jesse finally helps him. Then, he shrieks with excitement and the next several minutes are filled with giggles and tickles and a thorough discussion about the machinery Jesse used at work today. They also talk about Jett’s day with Grammy, and by the time they stop to catch their breaths, I have dinner set out and ready to go.
“Sorry about that,” Jesse finally greets me with an almost boyish grin. He’s dressed in a white T-shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of Nikes. The dark shadows still linger beneath his eyes, but he’s visibly more relaxed than a couple of hours ago. He smells amazing, too. Freshly showered with some kind of spicy body wash that makes me want to close my eyes and just breathe him in for a little while.
“Sorry for making our little boy’s night? Never apologize for that.” I return his smile and tip my head toward the buffet of food. “I hope you’re hungry.”
His eyes dart from me to dinner and back again. “Tell me you didn’t go all out for me.”
“It’s just chicken enchiladas.” Which, if I recall correctly, are his favorite, though he’d never tell his mother and break her Polish heart.
The playful sparkle in his eyes says I got it right. “Wow. Thank you.”
I wipe my hands on a towel, straighten the hem of my top over my leggings, and begin to dish up Jett’s plate. “How did everything go at Jim’s?”
“Good. I’ll be working most of the weekend, but it’s a pretty simple load and dump job.” He shuffles toward the island, hands in his pockets. “God, city girl, this looks amazing.”
“Thanks. I almost made fajitas, since Jett and I didn’t have them on Sunday like we normally do, but then I remembered how much you liked these and since tonight is about you…”
“About me?” He pauses at the end of the counter, frowning. “What do you mean?”
I shrug, despite my sudden nerves. He’s already here and there’s no going back now. Might as well tell him.
“You’ve been working really hard this week. I wanted to do something nice.” I flash a quick smile and go back to fixing Jett’s plate to avoid additional eye contact. “Oh, and there’s beer in the fridge, too.” Also his favorite.