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“Daddy, faces!” East points animatedly at his plate, and Parker comes up behind him, shooting me a grin.
“Your talents really do know no bounds, Ms. O’Shea.”
Winking while East is preoccupied, I say, “You have no idea.”
Parker hands me a cup of coffee before he cuts up East’s pancake for him.
“What are your plans for today?” he asks as I swallow a mouthful of caffeinated goodness.
“Not a lot. Probably get some studying done. Maybe some washing. My life is so exciting.”
His soft laugh lights me up inside, and I want to hear that carefree noise every day.
“I have an appointment to go house hunting this morning. I could use an expert’s opinion, if you wanted to tag along?”
East has clearly had enough of his pancake and is smooshing the remainder into his plate, enjoying the mess he’s creating. I laugh at how content he is. Like I said, a house doesn’t make a home. It’s the people. And Parker is this little man’s world.
I’m almost scared to admit how quickly he seems to be taking over mine.
“I’d love to.”
* * *
We pull up behind the Realtor, and my eyes widen at the place in front of us. It’s stunning, contemporary architecture at its best. All neat lines, glass walls, and dark wood. But is it really a family home? Glass walls and a toddler don’t mix, not to mention the open-plan layout. Nowhere to hide the mess.
As Parker carries Easton inside, I follow and take it all in. The hardwood floors, open floor plan, and panoramic views from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. It’s breathtaking but impractical. It’s not my place to say, so I tag along for the tour.
The next place is better; it just needs work. It has a huge yard, open rooms, and high ceilings. It’s the perfect mix of modern and charming.
By the time we’re back in the car and heading back, I’m exhausted. Granted, the late night and mind-blowing sex I had yesterday may be partly to blame. But we’ve seen multiple houses this morning, and between walking around them all and trying to keep Easton from trashing them, I feel like I’ve run a marathon.
“So, what did you think?” Parker asks, looking over at me with his aviators hiding his expressive eyes.
“Me?”
“Well, yeah. You’re the designer, right?” he teases, and I blush, touched that he remembered.
“Honestly?” I ask, biting my lip and wondering if I should stick my nose in.
“That’s usually the idea.” He chuckles as he brakes at a stoplight.
“Did she know you have a kid? Those places were incredible, don’t get me wrong. But they’re classic bachelor pads. They’re not where you raise a family. You need a yard to play soccer in, a big dining table to do homework at, a big kitchen for family dinners. You need character and warmth. Not a f—” I cut myself off, remembering Easton is in the car. Looking over my shoulder, I smile at the little cutie, who returns it with a toothy grin. “A place to entertain lady friends.”
Parker barks out a laugh. “Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?”
With an exaggerated eye roll, I say, “You wish, boss man.”
With a wink, he adds, “It’s hot that you’re jealous and trying to hide it, but I know what you mean.”
“I liked the last one. It has a lot of potential.”
“It needs a lot of work. It’s a blank canvas.”
“Not everything has to be easy. It’s a fresh start. An interior designer’s wet dream.”
“Well, if you’re offering to help…”
“That’s not what I was getting at.” Shaking my head, I look over at him.
