AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Who the hell cared?
But her litany ran through my mind. Country bumpkins. Stereotypes. Dress for success. Wasn’t that what I did with my clothing? Dress shirts for in-person and video meetings, polos for audio meetings? “Since we’re going to the store, go put on some nicer shorts. Maybe a plain shirt.”
His nose scrunched up. “Why?”
If I told him we dressed for the job we wanted, he’d claim he would love to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Or he’d go put on a Spider-Man shirt. “Just while we’re out, okay?”
He rolled his eyes and disappeared from the doorway.
Why couldn’t we go to Hummingbird’s again?
They need to learn responsibility, Alcott.I closed my eyes against the onslaught of parenting mantras I’d heard throughout my marriage. She was gone, and it was up to me to raise responsible, educated, worldly kids.
Then you should’ve gone somewhere for the summer other than Crocus Valley, Alcott. It’s barely larger than Buffalo Gully. The small Montana town where I was born and raised had been a purgatory for Meg.
I should’ve taken the kids to New York. London. Rented a villa in France.
I had no one in New York, London, or France, and I liked towns the size of Crocus Valley and my hometown. My sister was here, and I wasn’t sure I’d have had the guts to go anywhere else. I wasn’t going to lean on her, though. I’d practically raised her, and she had her own life. Being away from the quiet and the memories and the impending change at the end of the summer was enough.
A half hour, a change of clothes for both of them, and one wonky ponytail later, we were wandering the grocery store. I was pushing the cart, and the kids were asking for every product the store sold. My phone gave random notification buzzes, but I ignored them. The morning had been stressful enough, and the clock was ticking for my meeting. We needed groceries and an early lunch, and then I’d lose myself in work.
“Can I get Oreos?” Ivy asked.
“Not today.”
“Ooh, what about fruit snacks?” Grayson asked.
Meg had detested fruit snacks. “We loaded up on real fruit.”
“Pop-Tarts?” he tried again.
Meg would come back and haunt me if I bought those. “Nope.”
“Ugh.” Ivy trailed her hand along all the forbidden items. “How about ice cream?”
“We can go to Hummingbird’s for an ice cream treat later this week.” I grabbed a canister of oatmeal.
Grayson eyed it dubiously. “Do we have brown sugar for the oatmeal?”
Their mom had blamed me for the brown-sugar-on-oatmeal habit. Meg had all sorts of oatmeal recipes—overnight oats, steel-cut oats, and old-fashioned oatmeal—and my eggs-and-sausage ass had a hard time making the switch. My spoonful of sugar might’ve been more like two, and the kids had taken notice.
“Let’s grab another bag.” I tried to do my best, but if I was duty-bound to carry out the oatmeal tradition for Meg, then I needed sugar.
We rounded the corner, and I got an eyeful of creamy long legs and a heart-shaped ass bending over to inspect the different brands of sugar.
My gut clenched, and that damn sex drive that had snuck out of the shadows this morning made itself known again. To be fair, I’d never seen such an amazing behind. Guilt hit me hard in the chest, and I swallowed sour bile. I had no business rating asses.
She straightened.
“Tova!” Grayson called, and when she turned, he dropped into a deep bow.
Her smile was sweeter than the sugar we were surrounded by, and she dipped into a curtsy, flaring out a pretend skirt. Her legs were a mile long, and she’d tied an old Hummingbird’s shirt at her waist, showing a strip of belly.
Christ, but she looked soft in all the right places.
Ivy did both a curtsy and a bow, then rushed to crash into the stomach I’d been inappropriately admiring.
Tova laughed, the sound a tinkle of delighted chimes. She hugged my daughter back, and a knot twisted in my chest. I didn’t grow up in a warm family, and while Meg strived to be the best mother she could be, she hadn’t been a stereotypical warm mother.
