“Nope,” I said, enunciating the word. “It was a rhetorical question. Get your butt in gear, and let’s go.”
Chapter Sixteen
I stood on my porch, watching Jamie chase Garrett across our yard, hollering. The day after his first game, we’d come home to find a brand-new soccer ball waiting for him on the porch. Jamie had instantly dropped his bag to the cement and snatched it up, running his hands over it like he’d found the heart of the ocean.
I’d felt Garrett before I saw him, that familiar tingle running along the back of my neck. But it was the feeling that had run through my chest that worried me.
He’d been leaning against his Nova, which was finally out of the shop, watching us with an expression I couldn’t name. With a hat pulled low on his head and a leather jacket sitting over his hoodie, he’d looked off limits in the most enticing way.
The swift putter of my heart as his eyes had locked with mine had me questioning how smart it was to continue our friendship. He didn’t walk over, nor did he say a word. He’d just winked at me, sending that quivering beat lower than my stomach, and pushed off, making his way into his house.
Now here we were a few days later. Garrett had been outside when Jamie and I got home, and the kid hadn’t batted an eye about asking him to kick the new ball around. Garrett scoffed, making some playful comment about wiping him across the ground, and they’d started up a competitive game of one-on-one.
Incessant whining behind me demanded my attention, and I stepped back inside. Both dogs were at the door, beside themselves wanting to go play. Layla was out for the evening, and neither of them appreciated being left alone.
Pulling out the bag of treats we kept in the kitchen, I tossed one to each, shooing them out before digging into the fridge for dinner.
I heard Jamie’s laughter before I heard the click of the door opening, and it was one of best sounds in the world. As much as I worried about my growing feelings for Garrett, I could never regret having an extra person give my child the time and affection he deserved.
I poked my head around the bar, scrunching my nose at their flushed faces. “Ya’ll better not be sweaty and filthy.”
A smirk formed on Garrett’s face, and I knew better than to let him reply. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Go wash up, bud, dinner’s ready as soon as the potatoes are.”
“’Kay!” He took off, contentment oozing from him in such waves, I couldn’t help but smile.
“Garrett, would you like a baked potato or a sweet potato? I’m cooking two of each, and I can eat either.”
He was kneeling, in the process of giving Sadie a belly rub, but at my question he lifted his head. I realized I hadn’t even asked if he wanted to stay for dinner, just assuming he would.
“You don’t have to—”
“Sweet potato.” He stood, not taking his eyes off me while he slowly slid his jacket down his shoulders. He had two other layers on underneath, but the motion was unintentionally seductive, and I had to turn toward the stove to hide the heat creeping up my neck.
An hour later, I was curled up on the couch. The still-unfinished baby blanket was sitting in my lap, and I had a crochet hook clenched in my fist, but I wasn’t focused on a bit of it. My eyes were too busy watching back muscles flex and shift underneath a white shirt while Garrett moved about my kitchen, cleaning up dinner.
After we’d all annihilated our meals, he’d pushed back from the table, grabbing each of our plates and all but told me to get lost. I’d argued, demanding he was my guest, and I could clean my own dishes, but he’d turned that intense, unblinking gaze on me until I relented.
“Go relax, Maddie. I mean it. No homework. No cleaning. Go put on your PJs and curl up. I got you.”
So here I was, curled up on the couch, “relaxing,” while a man took care of the cleaning. It reminded me of my parents. For as long as I could remember, my dad had always said if my mom cooked, he’d clean. Watching Garrett do the same felt domestic. But more than that, it felt normal and right. And that scared the hell out of me.