Page 84 of My Husband Problem

“Let’s take the snacks over there,” Nora says, suddenly perky again.

I can’t help but smile. It’s not so much the chance to unload the pudding cups as it is that she wants to be a part of the big social gathering going on in town. Nora’s never met a party she didn’t want to be a part of.

And make bigger.

“Oh yes!” Sutton is suddenly all in as well.

I look at the phone and yep, Lawson Landry, Sutton’s crush, is there working on my house.

Then I remember that Declan is there too. In that T-shirt.

“Okay,” I agree.

I mean, I’m hosting a party. I might as well be there.

When we get to my house, it’s exactly what I expected: pure pandemonium.

People are sitting in lawn chairs, a few on blankets on the ground, several standing around. Everyone is talking and laughing, watching the guys do the hard work. And I quickly realize that I’m not just having two windows and a door replaced.

My two front windows on either side of my front door are also brand new.

My front porch has been torn out and is being rebuilt.

A portion of my front pathway has been torn out and carefully taped around so no one steps in the fresh concrete.

And Everly is actually running Gardening Club right in my front yard. She has about six people gathered around where she and Quinn are on their hands and knees working in my front flowerbeds as she explains what she’s doing. Those six peoplehave pruning shears and small spades, and one has a shovel and is digging a hole.

At first, I don’t know where to look or what to watch. But then Declan comes around the corner of the house.

I am ninety percent sure this man has never done a home renovation project—at least not one for which he put on work gloves and a tool belt—yet he has the air of the man in charge here. My mouth actually goes dry at the sight.

He stops when he sees me, our gazes clashing.

For a moment, he looks like he has no idea what to say or do. I feel the same. Considering my house is surrounded by nosy neighbors, gossipy citizens, and a good portion of my hockey team, with much of the exterior of my house torn apart, I suppose that’s a fair reaction.

Then I glance from side to side, find an empty chair, and take a seat, crossing my legs and accepting a glass of something that someone hands me.

His mouth doesn’t just quirk up at the corner in one of his little, satisfied, half-smiles. No. He full-ongrinsat me. And even across the yard, past more than a dozen people, my lower belly swoops and my nipples bead.

I bring the straw to my lips and take a long suck.

He gives me a lingering look, then turns and heads up the front porch steps.

“How’s the lemonade?”

I look to my right to see who I’m sitting next to and who handed me the glass.

Andi is grinning at me.

“Did you even realize that was lemonade you’re drinking?”

I didn’t, as a matter of fact. I laugh. I’m surprised to see her, but I’m not sure why. “What are you doing here?”

Andi has a small studio down on Main Street where she does her welding work. She paints and sculpts and sketches morethan she welds, though, and most of that work happens in a small building out behind her cottage. But no one really knows what that looks like since she doesn’t invite people out to what she calls her swamp witch hut. She’s trying to be a recluse since her husband cheated on her and left her in his hometown, but it’s not really working.

She won’t admit it, but she likes all of us, and she doesn’t have to work, having taken her ex for half of his considerable bank account and many of his investments—evidently, while he was a crappy husband, he was great at finances—so she always seems to be around when interesting things are happening in town.

“I was at Perks and Rec when this—” She gestures around my yard. “Happened. Of course, I had to stop by.”