he’d been the first boy to stick his tongue in her mouth, she hadn’t liked it one bit and if he was still single after all these years it’s because he was still a letch.
She couldn’t tell her mother that. Gwen Callahan did not like to discuss “intimacies,” as she so delicately referred to them. But then straight out of the blue, Kristi had a better idea.
“I don’t think so, Mom. I’ve actually just met someone.” It wasn’t a lie, really. She had just met someone. Nate McTavish. So it was only the teeniest of lies. Just a fib, really. “It’s nothing serious or anything but I don’t think we should give Bernie…Bernard…the wrong idea.”
It took her mother five full seconds to respond. “You’re seeing someone? When did this happen? Why haven’t you said anything? Has Jenna met him? Are the two of you—”
“Mom, stop. It’s recent, very recent, and like I said, it hasn’t turned into anything serious. And no, Jenna hasn’t met him so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to her.”
“What’s his name? What does he do?”
“Oh. Nate. His name’s Nate and he’s a… He works in landscaping.” And in a blink the fib turned into a terrible lie that she would, without question, live to regret.
“Well, this is certainly a surprise. Where did you meet him?”
“Through work.” That part was true. “And I’m at work right now, Mom, so I really can’t talk.”
“I’ll call you tonight so we can make plans. You’ll have to invite him to Wanda’s barbecue so we can all meet him. So Jenna can meet him. Or you can give me his number and I’ll invite him.”
And there came the part where she would live to regret this…right on schedule. “No! No. Thanks, Mom. I’ll talk to him about it. I’m not sure if he’s free, though. I think maybe he mentioned something about having plans with his family.” Stop. Talking. The hole she was digging would soon be so deep, she’d never climb out of it. “I have to go, Mom. I’m working with a new client this afternoon. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I’ll call you tonight,” Gwen said again.
Kristi couldn’t tell if there was a subtle threat in her mother’s parting words, or if the guilt she was feeling had skewed her perception. Most likely a little of both.
Over the years her mother and Aunt Wanda had tried to set her up with more eligible men than she could count. She’d managed to avoid going out with most of them, but occasionally they’d caught her off guard, like the times they had invited someone like Bernie Halverson to a family event. Not one of those men had come close to looking like Nate McTavish. Not that looks were everything, but there hadn’t been any chemistry with any of them, either. Shaking hands with Nate had left her insides bubbling like a beaker over a Bunsen burner.
Even his T-shirt has chemistry written all over it.
She rolled her eyes at that thought. She had no business getting all dreamy-eyed schoolgirl over her new client. She had a job to do.
From somewhere in the house, a phone rang. She counted six rings before it stopped, unanswered.
She quickly scrolled through her photographs of the living room. Satisfied she had everything she needed for now, she crossed the room, opened a second set of frosted glass doors and walked into the dining room. Another unused space, judging by the cool temperature and drifts of gift wrap and empty toy packaging littering the floor. There were more yellow-and-mauve streamers and dejected-looking balloons, but everything else about the dining room was neat as a pin. It was spacious, with plenty of room to maneuver around a table that would comfortably seat ten. The furniture was a little too flea-market-finds-meet-grandma’s-attic to really suit the house, but some of it was solid and in good condition. She always liked to keep her budget as low as possible, so she would make it work.
From the moment she’d driven up, she’d loved this house, but now she felt a little sad for it, having its beautiful rooms closed up and uninhabited. This house deserved to be lived in by someone who would love it at least as much as she did.
At the back of the dining room was a third pair of opaque glass doors, closed like the others. She pulled them open, stepped into a spacious and very messy kitchen, tripped over the dog’s water bowl and sent a small tidal wave gushing across the tile floor.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Who puts a bowl of water in front of a closed door?” Apparently a frazzled single dad did. She had no idea where to look for a mop and she couldn’t leave this huge puddle on the kitchen floor. So much for working through the house on her own. Now she had to find that distractingly sexy and very single dad and ask him for help.
Nate herded the girls and the dog through the family room.
“Why can’t we stay with the lady?” Molly asked.
“Because I have work to do.”
“We can stay with her.”
“She has work to do, too,” he said, sliding the patio door open.
“Taking pictures?”
“Yes.” And he was happy to leave her on her own. It was one thing to stand with her in the living room, or almost any other room, while she made notes and took photographs. But eventually they would get to his bedroom, and the idea of going in there with her had brought on a mild state of panic.
“She has a pretty purse,” Molly said.
“Does she?” He shut the patio door behind them. He had only noticed her bag was huge. And stuffed full.
“It has cupcakes on it.”
“Does it?”
Martha pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “I yike cupcakes.”
“I know you like cupcakes. Why don’t you two go in the playhouse and have a look at the new dress-up clothes Aunt Britt dropped off this morning.” He’d asked Britt to bring them out here because the girls’ bedroom already looked like Toys “R” Us had tangled with a tornado. “Maybe she brought you some purses.”
His sister, a self-proclaimed clotheshorse, frequently cleared out her closet to make room for new things and bestowed the items she no longer wanted on her nieces. The girls loved it, but their bedroom, the family room and now the playhouse overflowed with toys and Britt’s cast-offs.
“Come on, Martha. Let’s see what she brung us.” Molly snagged the dog by the collar and tugged. “You, too, Gemmy.”
At the entrance to the playhouse, she let go of the Saint’s collar and skipped inside. Martha straggled in behind her, and Gemmy sprawled across the doorway, head resting on her paws.
After they were settled, Nate turned his attention to the rows of potted asters in his makeshift greenhouse and tried not to think about the beautiful woman with the ginormous cupcake purse who was discovering that he was not the world’s greatest housekeeper. How had he not remembered to put a reminder about this meeting in his calendar? If he had,
