“I’m good, thanks.”
I keep my eyes averted, telling myself that I shouldn’t be hurt because he doesn’t want to try my muffins. Feeding people has always been part of my love language. I started not long after my mom passed away, maybe because I remember her always making treats for us. Every day we’d come home from school and there would be some kind of baked goodies: fresh bread, healthy muffins, and on Fridays there would be cookies or what she called “treat muffins.” I stopped eating them when she passed away and started making them instead.
“Seriously, have one.” Van holds the plate in front of Aaron, and he caves, probably because he doesn’t want to be rude.
Two seconds later a low groan comes from the other side of the room.
“I told you. Teag makes the best muffins. And cookies. And biscuits. And bread. If there’s flour involved, she’s basically a wizard.”
I laugh at that. “It’s a hobby.” But I feel a tinge of pride as they both reach for seconds. I might not know what I want to do with the rest of my life, but at least I know I’m good at a few things that make people happy.
I add the throw pillows and take a step back. I still need end tables, a coffee table, and some art, but it’s coming together.
Dillion stands next to me, her hands on her hips. “This really brightens it up.”
“Thanks. I wanted to delineate the space since it’s all one big room, and the best way to break it up is with some color and pattern.” I’m planning to paint the wall behind the bed, too, to give it some dimension, and I’d like to get one of those room dividers to make the bed feel separate from the rest of the living space.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I don’t have anything planned.”
“I have a meeting with a homeowner on the other side of the lake. They’re renovating their pool house. Maybe you want to come along and see if you have any ideas on how to make the most of the space?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I can do that.”
“Great.” Dillion beams. “I can tell them what kind of wood to use and what cabinet styles would work, but I don’t have the eye for color that you do.”
I wave the compliment away. “I spend a lot of time on Pinterest.”
“Pinterest terrifies me. I’ll start looking at cabinet ideas, and three hours later I’m staring at bare-chested guys.”
“Ahh, yes, it can be a rabbit hole for sure.”
The ping of a phone has us all checking our own.
“I should head out.” Aaron shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“Thanks for your help today.” I motion to the couch.
“No problem. Thanks for the muffins.” He kneads his neck. “Sorry I ate so many of them.”
There are only two left on the plate.
“Don’t worry about it. I can always make more, and they’re best when they’re right out of the oven.”
“Not gonna argue with that. I’ll come by tomorrow morning and get the baseboards up so I’m not in your way.” His gaze shifts to Dillion. “Then I’ll head over to the Winslows’ and work on finishing up the landscaping there since it’s supposed to be a nice day.”
“Works for me,” Dillion says.
“See y’all later.” And with that he’s out the door.
“Is it me, or has Aaron been throwing out the vibes?” Van points at me, but he’s looking at Dillion.
“I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the muffins.” Dillion nudges me with her foot, as if to say, See, I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
CHAPTER 8
GIVE ME THE DIRT
Teagan
I get up extra early the following morning and make a fresh batch of muffins, then leave them on the counter with a note for Aaron to help himself to as many as he’d like.
Dillion drops Van at the office since he is in the middle of consulting on a project for Footprint, and we drive around to the other side of the lake for our meeting with the homeowner. “Okay, so what’s Aaron’s story?”
“I was wondering how long it would take you to bring him up.” Dillion grins as she taps the steering wheel to the beat of the music coming through the speakers. “We grew up together, and he hung out with my brother, Billy, in high school, but he got a scholarship and went to Indiana for college.”
“Really? What college?” He doesn’t strike me as a city boy.
“Notre Dame.”
“Oh, wow! For what?”
“Structural engineering. And he played for their football team, at least for the first couple of years. He never finished his degree as far as I know. Dropped out in his last semester.”
“Why? Was he struggling to keep up or something?”
“I don’t know. I was in Chicago at the time, going to school and then working, but when he dropped out and came back to Pearl Lake, my dad hired him, and he’s been working for him ever since.”
“Wow, that’s an expensive education to walk away from in the last semester of your degree.”
“Agreed. I don’t know what happened, and I’ve never asked. And no one seems to know. It’s a bit of a closed subject. He’s always happy to give his input on project designs and layouts, but his résumé doesn’t even have his education on it.” Dillion chews her bottom lip for a second. “I always wondered if maybe it had something to do with his mom.”
“She works at Harry’s. She’s the one who hired me. Does she live in town?” I don’t know why I’m so intrigued by these little facts about him.
“Just outside, actually. She moved when Aaron went to college. And she raised him on her own.”
I’m trying to paint a picture of the man I’ve met so far. Went to school out of state but never finished. Has most of a structural engineering degree but chooses to work with his hands for the only contractor in town. Loves apple fritters and muffins and apparently has an epic smolder that he uses to get things he wants—like apple fritters. “What happened to his dad?”
Dillion shrugs. “From what I know, his mom got pregnant and decided she wanted to keep the baby. I think there was a scandal there.”
“Scandal how?”
“The town’s gossip is that Aaron’s father was renting one of the houses on the nice side of the lake and Aaron’s mom got involved with him. Like a fling maybe? Apparently he was married, though, so that’s where the scandal is. Like I said, it’s all rumors. I don’t have the whole story, so don’t take anything I’m telling you as gospel.” Dillion isn’t big on gossip, which makes sense, seeing what her family and Van have been through. “Anyway, Aaron’s been known to ride more than the lawn mower on the other side of the lake. He’s a compulsive flirt. Charming, always has the right line. Except with you, anyway. He was all flirty at the office when you brought the fritters and then awkward when he helped move the furniture.”
“He was probably only flirty because of the fritters.” I run my finger along the edge of the window, gathering dust on the tip.
“I guess it’s possible, but why would he have agreed to come help move the furniture? He easily could have said he was busy.”