Scarlett made me think again. She made me picture a cozy home full of love and chaos, like the place I’d grown up in.
It figured that the woman who opened my mind to what-ifs was the one woman my son would say “absolutely not” to.
2
Scarlett
Tate Bailey wason my roof. He’d arrived at 9:55 a.m.
I’d been ready since eight. I’d dressed in a loose fuchsia skirt that I wore on not-so-windy days to keep from flashing the playground my underwear collection. The skirt’s dark color helped to hide the yellow polka dots I’d worn today to bolster my confidence.
Other women went to the gym, got highlights, maybe had their nails done. I got fun, quirky underclothes no one would ever see.
Tate wasn’t seeing them today. I knew that much.
I still couldn’t believe he’d invited me to his place. His mountain cabin on the outskirts of his family’s land had been the talk of the break room on more than one occasion. Between the single—and some married—teachers and interns, Tate Bailey had been the center of much break-room speculation on who he’d been out with since he’d been back to town.
No one. And I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
I was just one of the few who didn’t join in on the talk.
I listened, though.Avidly.
And now I was on a date with him.
Did fixing my roof really count as a date?
He wasn’t even on the ground like I was. I bent over my flower beds, pulling weeds and getting my unmanicured nails dirty. Ugh. I’d showered this morning, but I already needed another one. I hadn’t been able to sit in the house while Tate was working.
He’d mowed the lawn in diagonal rows. My neat little yard looked like a checkerboard. And then he’d edged the sidewalk and flower beds. He dumped out bags of landscaping rocks and raked them out. And now he was fixing the roof that my landlord kept saying he’d get to. I should’ve cleared the work first, but maybe I could negotiate my rent down for a month.
That wouldn’t be right. I couldn’t take money for work Tate did. I could donate it to the same charities the auction had been for. Yeah. I’d do that since Tate was functioning as a two-for-one bachelor.
I shouldn’t have turned down going to his house.
I shook my head and tugged another weed. Sweat dotted my brow and my stomach growled. The sandwiches I’d made for the lunch he’d stuffed into his mouth before going to the roof had long burned off.
I didn’t hate yard work. I just wasn’t used to a behemoth of a man joining me and making it look more effortless than paint-by-numbers.
I pushed my hair off my forehead and got a wrist full of sweat. Sophisticated as always.
“Looking good.”
I straightened. His voice came from above me. I squinted up at him. “What?”
“The flower beds.” He grinned as if that wasn’t what he’d meant.
Not for the first time since last night, I got the impression he was flirting with me. I didn’t buy it. I’d heard too much about him from his sisters. He was honorable. A man like Tate would want to make sure the twenty grand was well spent. He’d want me to have a good time and enjoy myself, to feel special even. But he wasn’t flirting because I was special to him.
“Oh. Thanks. My mom gave me the peonies last year, and the hollyhocks came with the house.” Could I sound more undesirable? How many of Tate’s women had waxed on about their flower beds?
“I’m almost done.”
How red was my face? The temperature was approaching eighty, and I burned as easily as I blushed. “Okay. I’ll get us something to drink.”
I took my trowel and hoe to the garage and tucked them into their place. Summer teased me about my penchant for organization, but she didn’t get it. Autumn might, but just because we were teachers didn’t mean we coped the same. The mower and gas can were sitting wonky, so I adjusted those too.
A wall of heat hit my back, and my entire body went into blush mode. He was behind me. I spun around.
