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I take one step, stop, and spin around, forgetting to breathe in the process. “What exactly are you betting on, and with whom?”
“Bondage, discipline, submission, and masochism.”
“Oh!” My mom’s eyes are wide as her cheeks flash red. “Oh….” She fans the front of her floral button-up blouse away from her chest. “I didn’t know they were into that kind of kinky stuff.”
“They are.” Layla winks, and if I could grab one of the frosted cupcakes without getting backhanded by my mom, I’d smash it into her face.
“Wow.” Her eyes are round as she returns her attention to her phone. “Nolan is going to be shocked by this one.”
“Stop.” I grab her forearm. “Who are you betting with and why?”
“Your father, of course.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind for even questioning who would be involved with her in such a crazy bet. “I bet him years ago that you and Cole had feelings for each other, and were fighting it. But your dad agreed, so that one was a no-go. Then I bet him that you two would get married before your brothers, and he was sure Ledger would make it to the altar first.”
“Mom, that’s ridiculous. Cole and I….” I trail off before I lie to my mom. I’m not a perfect child, but I rarely lie to my parents. At least not intentionally. “He doesn’t have feelings for me. And if he did, Connor would throw a fit.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let me take care of him. That boy isn’t going to mess this up.”
“Nothing is going on!” I yell louder this time as exasperation sends my blood pressure skyrocketing.
“Yet…” Layla bites her bottom lip. “Just wait until you’re rolling around on top of each other.”
I march away before shaking them and causing the marbles in their heads to smack against their skulls.
Seriously. I rotate my shoulders and unclench my hands as I march to the facepainting booth where I’m volunteering for the next three hours. I get Layla pushing me to make a move on Cole. But my mom? And my dad? That never crossed my mind.
And why do they think Cole felt the same way? My mind swirls with possibilities as I settle at the table, setting up the paint, glitter, and other sparkles that will top off the artwork. What if they’re right? Do I pursue something with him in hopes that he’d agree to move to San Francisco?
A little boy approaches the table and grins. “I football?” His big blue eyes are surrounded by lush black lashes, and a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.
“Okay.” I laugh at his adorable expression as he climbs onto the chair. He’s wearing a long-sleeved green T-shirt matched with a pair of jeans and boots. If I had to guess, he’s probably a little over two and cute as a button.
“Where would you like it?”
“Here.” He points to his right cheek with his chubby finger. Under his finger is an adorable dimple that looks vaguely familiar.
I sit back and study him with my best serious expression. “Perfect choice.” I dip my brush into the brown paint. I’ve always wanted children, but that possibility seems years away at this point.
“Tanks.” He grins like he’s won a prize as I survey the crowd looking for his mom, but I don’t see anyone rushing over to the table or frantically looking for their missing child. Not that there’s too much for parents to worry about in Meadow Bay. It’s what makes it a perfect place to raise children–small, laidback, carefree, welcoming, and full of goodwill.
We’re not stupid. We know bad things happen, but everyone has each other’s back which lessens the likelihood that something unfortunate will happen. So, I’ll entertain the boy until his family realizes he’s trotted off to get his face painted.
I brush the tip along his cheek. A few months ago, I’d have moved back in a heartbeat if Cole said he wanted to date me, but now things are complicated. I have a dream job that was dropped in my lap, and I can’t walk away from it. There’s not another job like it here. And commuting 2 ½ hours both ways is not an option.
After wiping a smudge from his cheek, he swings his feet back and forth. Why does he look familiar? I study the curve of his cheekbone. When his parents show up, I guess I’ll know who he belongs to. I rock back into my seat. “Perfect.”
“Tanks.” He slides down from the chair until his feet hit the ground.
Shit. I need to figure out who he belongs to before he disappears.
“Nice work.”
I spin around so fast that I nearly fall off my chair. Cole stands behind me, holding a little girl on his hip. Mom and Layla are wrong. Cole is already in a relationship with someone. Someone with a little girl who looks suspiciously like the boy with the football on his cheek.
“Thanks.” My heart drops to my feet as the little boy launches himself at Cole, who manages to boost him up while not dropping the girl.
His muscles bulge as he jostles them, but there’s no evidence of strain or discomfort. The man is gorgeous. Mouthwateringly gorgeous. And he’d look phenomenal wearing leather and tying me down to the bed.
Holy shit. I swipe my hands on my jeans. What’s wrong with me? He’s dating someone. It’s not like he’s ever been interested in me and never will be.
