Miss Fix-It

“Oh dear, Kali.”

“Oh dear is a nice way to put it,” I agreed. “I put my foot in my mouth and chewed up to my damn ankle. The twins’ mom died two and a half years ago.”

“Poor thing,” she murmured. “And those poor babies. Is he here for a fresh start?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t exactly carry on that line of questioning. I figured I’d screwed up enough for one meeting. Besides, it’s none of my business.”

“Does he work?”

“He mentioned it today. Something about his boss wanting him to go back. He’s struggling with daycare options. I think he’s used to having a nanny back in Denver.”

“Hmm.”

I side-eyed her. “What’s that mean?”

“A nanny. If he can afford that as a single parent, he must be quite financially comfortable.”

“No.” I stopped smack-bang in the middle of the aisle and pointed my finger at her. “No, absolutely not. Do not even go down that line of thinking.”

She giggled, a fake, tinkly laugh tickling the air between us. “What line of thinking, honey? I wouldn’t dare.”

“Work, Mom. It’s just work. Besides, I have a date on Saturday night.”

She stopped and jerked her head toward me. “You do?”

“Yes. I was giving up hope after a builder asked if we could hammer something else into the wall—”

“Ha!” she barked out. “That’s a good one.”

I shot her a withering look. “—When I got an email from a perfectly nice young man—”

“You sound seventy.”

“—Who might actually be worth two hours of my time.”

She rolled her eyes, carefully laying eggs at the end of her cart. “Whatever you say, Kali. You know as well as I do you’ll reject him, too. I don’t know what you’re waiting for, but unless you lower your expectations, I doubt you’ll ever find it.”

“What’s the point of lowering my expectations? I’m worth more than that. Look at me. Anyone would be lucky to have me.”

“Your self-confidence is admirable,” she admitted. “But you should make sure you don’t have paint in your hair before you proclaim that to the world.”

I stopped. Again. “I don’t have paint in my hair…Do I?”

Mom leaned over and picked a loose curl out from my low ponytail. “Right here.”

I grabbed the same lock of hair and tugged it into my eyesight.

Damn it. She was right. And the bright, white paint stood out like a sore damn thumb against the darkness of my hair.

Sighing, I flicked it back over my shoulder. “Well, I can’t be perfect all the time.”

“Yep,” she said to herself, grabbing a bottle of wine. “You’re your father’s daughter. No doubt about it.”

I smirked at her back.

Really…She shouldn’t have been surprised.

I wasn’t.

***

Friday came and went without fanfare. I didn’t see Brantley at all. That wasn’t ideal, since I’d taken over ordering the furniture for him to make sure Dad could match it, and it was all due for delivery the next day.

A week ahead of my schedule.

The house was still covered in boxes, and I was a total loss of what to do. There was nowhere to put it, as far as I knew. I had no idea what the garage was like or if there was any room there. It was obvious his cross-country move had been done by movers, so I had no idea how much stuff there was in this house.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early. Too early. My mom had plied me with her homemade sangria at family dinner, and once again, I’d made bad choices.

At least I didn’t have such a huge headache…This time.

A text message at nine-thirty alerted me to the fact the furniture would be delivered in an hour. This was at odds—surprise, surprise—with the three-to-five p.m. window they’d originally given me when they’d told me it would be delivered early.

Because why not? I loved getting my whole schedule screwed up twice.

I filled my take-out coffee cup and tugged up my shorts. It was hot as hell outside, and I wasn’t happy about having to work today. I’d planned to not actually do a thing except help Dad with Ellie’s bed.

I sighed as I got in my truck. I dialed Brantley’s number again, but the call rolled over to voicemail after ringing.

Awesome. I loved showing up at client’s houses unannounced. Unexpected guests were about as enjoyable as a bout of hemorrhoids.

God, I was pessimistic this morning.

Ten minutes later, I pulled up outside the Cooper house. His car was in the drive, and my stomach rolled as I got out of the car.

I hoped that was because of last night’s sangria.

Dear god, let it be the sangria.

I grabbed my coffee before I shut the car door and went to the front door. It swung open before I could knock.

“Kawi!” Ellie grinned. “Hiya!”

“Ellie!” Brantley stalked out from the kitchen, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants, slung low on his hips. He fiddled with a t-shirt, turning it the right way around. “What have I told you—Kali. Hi.”