Good thing I did.
“I plan on running to the store tomorrow to pick up a couple of things. I can grab some lights for you and drop ’em off,” he offers.
The offer’s nice but strangely my enthusiasm isn’t what it used to be.
“That’d be nice,” I tell him anyway. “Thanks.”
“Knock, knock.”
Ellyn’s smokey voice interrupts me.
“Who’s that?” Ace asks through the phone.
It takes me a beat to realize I’m smiling at the woman standing in my garage doorway rather than answering my son.
“Neighbor,” I reply.
“Hm,” I catch him say. “Wait, Joel, is that the really pretty one that?—”
“Talk to ya later, son.” I disconnect the call.
Ellyn cocks her head to the side, confusion wrinkling the space between her brows. “Do your children really call you Joel?”
Thrown by the question, I reply, “That’s my name, isn’t it?”
Her brows spike, and I mentally kick myself for being so damn defensive. It’s not her fault she doesn’t know my history.
“It’s just …” I clear my throat, “what they call me,” I manage to say.
She nods.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
She apologizes while my eyes roam over the long, grey cashmere sweater, which she’s paired with a white, body-hugging V-neck and white bottoms. Her hair is styled in a high bun with a few curls on the sides.
And she’s bareface.
In other words, she’s utterly beautiful.
“What the hell are you doin’ out of bed?” is what comes out of my mouth instead of what I truly want to say.
She blinks before her eyes widen. Then she puts her hands on her hip.
“My doctor told me I was cleared to walk around two days ago.”
I toss the lights in my hand back into the box before moving toward her. As I get closer, I allow my eyes to scan her body from head to toe.
“I’ll be the judge of that. These damn doctors don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”
“Isn’t your daughter-in-law a doctor?” she asks.
I grunt. “Physician’s assistant. Something like that,” I say even though I know exactly what Savannah’s job title is.
“I remember,” she says. “Because you told me the day you came over to paint the doorframe. While we were having coffee,” she adds as if to jog my memory.
What I don’t tell her is I remember every conversation we’ve had.
“You mean you didn’t find that information in one of your internet searches about me?”
