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I set my wine on the table and go to check on my daughter. I creep down the hallway. When I stop in front of her bedroom, Indigo bumps into me.
I glare at her. “What are you doing?”
“Checking on Isla.”
I place a finger over my lips before opening the door. Isla is curled up in her bed, cuddling the stuffed horse Fender bought her the day we went for a trail ride. I shut the door and creep back down the hallway.
“You are one lucky woman,” I tell Indigo once we’re settled back in the living room.
She grins. “I am. Have you seen my boyfriend?”
“Dylan is way sexier than Cash.”
They’re both wrong. Fender is the sexiest member of the band. The other four can’t hold a candle to him. Especially when he brings out the dimples. Sexy hot and dimples is one lethal combination.
Indigo clears her throat. “Leia thinks Fender’s the sexiest.”
I scowl. “Do not.”
“Liar.”
“I hate to agree with Indigo on pretty much anything,” Virginia begins. “But it is obvious you think Fender is hot. Why don’t you want to go out with him? Are you worried about him being a rockstar? I was worried about Dylan not wanting me since I’m a lowly librarian and he’s this big hot-shot rocker.”
“I don’t care if Fender is a rockstar. I don’t want to date him. End of story.”
“Sure, you don’t. What bologna excuses did you give Fender when you told him no?” Indigo asks.
“They’re not bologna excuses.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“He thinks I’m a crappy mom.”
Indigo narrows her eyes on me. “Anyone with eyes can see you’re a great mom. Did he actually say you’re a bad mom?”
He did.
And he apologized.
“He also thinks I work too hard.”
Indigo motions to the computer and papers on the coffee table. “He might have a point about the overworking thing.”
Virginia stands. “I believe we’re finished here.”
“We are not finished.”
“Leia explained her reasons for not wanting to date Fender. Mission accomplished.”
Indigo grabs Virginia’s arm and pulls her back down. “She’s making excuses. I want to know the real reason she said no.”
I consider fighting with her, but she’s right. The reasons I named are excuses. I can’t keep using them after Fender apologized. “I don’t want a relationship.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have time for a man,” I hedge.
Indigo wiggles her eyebrows. “You can use him for sex.”
