* * *
By evening, I landed somewhere that would’ve made me laugh out loud six months ago—shopping at Home Depot with my VP’s old lady. Eva seemed thrilled to supervise something as menial as selecting paint colors. Chaos rode like royalty in the cart, wagging her tail as shoppers passed and trying to guilt them into treats and head scratches.
“Jessa’s going to be good for you,” Eva said as I tried to figure out the difference between eggshell, linen, and alabaster.
“She’s great. I just hope I can give her the stability she deserves.”
I held up two paint samples that looked identical. How were there this many shades of white?
“You’ll be great,” Eva assured me. “You’re giving her a home and a family that cares. All of us are here to help.”
I picked up a warm gray paint swatch. “What about this one?”
“Really? Millennial gray?” Eva asked with pretend exasperation.
“No, this says ‘Agreeable Gray.’” I showed her the swatch.
She shook her head, laughing. “Any warm gray tone is consideredmillennial gray. And you are”—she poked me in the chest—“definitely a millennial.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t you one, too?”
She scoffed. “Barely. I’m a baby Millennial.”
I raised my brows. “What about Reaper?”
She laughed. “He’s definitely an elder millennial. A grumpy one.”
I groaned, holding up a half-dozen nearly identical gray-beige cards. “Can you just pick something for me? They all look the same.”
Eva plucked two colors—Mindful Gray and Forest Green. “You need calming tones if you’re going to have a hormonal teenage girl in your home. A green accent wall will give the place a pop of color. We can get matching throw pillows.”
“No throw pillows,” I grumbled.
“You’re such a boy,” she teased.
I shook my head and glanced at the pup watching the world go by from the cart. “Chaos eats throw pillows.”
Eva scratched the pup’s head. “She’ll grow out of it. What color for Jessa’s room?”
“She said lavender.”
Eva sifted through six almost-identical purple samples and picked one decisively. “We still need something for your room.”
“Anything’s fine.”
Her grin turned sly as she lifted a cheerful yellow card. “How about this? It’s calledMerciful Joy.” She enunciated the Merci part of the paint color name, all innocent-like, but there was a gleam behind it that told me she knew damn well what she was doing.
I controlled my expression. Reaper complained that Eva was too damn smart sometimes, and now I could see why.
“How about we not choose a paint color based on myfriend’sname?” I emphasized “friend” with a glare.
My response only encouraged her.
“Friend, huh? Not the vibe I’ve been getting lately.”
I snorted and turned back to the paint rack, pretending to befascinated by a collection of blues. “That’s because you read into things that aren’t there. You and Rhetta, I swear. Constantly trying to play matchmaker. Merci and I are just friends.”
“Sure,” Eva drawled, clearly enjoying herself. “Kind of how you and Kenna were friends? And then you kissed her? I’m just saying that maybe this time there could be something there. You and Merci would make a cute family.”
