What the hell was she going to do now? She had to leave for the lawyer’s office at seven forty-five, the same time the doorsopened at the school. The choir practice, as annoying as it was to wake up early, was why she’d scheduled this meeting today instead of last week.
She turned to go back in the house when the little girl in the back of Ryan’s car suddenly came bolting up the front steps.
“‘Scuse me, can I show Bailey something?” She grinned up at Aelin, and before she could answer, pushed into the house to her dad growling“Amaya!”after her.
Ryan jogged up the path holding a laptop in his hands, the door to his car flung out into the street. “Sorry, can I?—”
“Be my guest.” Aelin moved to the right so he could follow his daughter through the door, but Ryan went left, and before she could correct, his chest slammed into her. Ryan grunted, gripping her barely dry arm with one hand and saving his laptop with the other. His palm was warm and rough, and he smelled like . . . man. Like sea minerals and citron vibes, which she only had a name for because she’d purchased body spray for her nephew in May.
“You pass on the left!” Aelin clutched her towel and steadied herself.
“What?”
“You always go to your right, and then I go to my right, which means you pass people on their left side.”
“Umm, okay. Didn’t realize there were rules.” He dropped his hand and stepped into the entryway. “Amaya!”
His daughter’s voice floated down from the second floor. “Just a second, I’m?—”
“No just a second, I’m already late!” he barked.
“You know, kids really respond better to calm, understanding voices.”
Ryan shot her a look. “I hear they also respond well to not being abandoned before seven in the morning.”
Aelin laughed out loud. “You’re one of those guys, aren’t you? The ones whose wife always does drop off but because there was a change in schedule you decided to be nice and takethe hit, wake up early, and the second you get to the school, you decide you have all these opinions on things. Like ‘why does the drop off lane run counterclockwise, and why did you tell me to park here because this spot is strategically better for getting back on the road and avoiding traffic.’”
“His wife can’t do drop off.” Amaya came running down the stairs holding a tiny stuffed keychain penguin. “My mom’s in the hospital.”
Aelin’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. I’m?—”
“My daughter’s right there.” Ryan shot her a look. “C’mon.” He put an arm around Amaya’s shoulder and led her back onto the porch.
“Dad, you’re not going to make it to work in time for your meeting. It takes more than thirty minutes to get downtown,” she chattered.
“I’m aware.”
Aelin watched them walk to the car. Ryan set his laptop on the hood, lifted the screen, and pulled out his phone. He was trying to hot spot so he could send whatever his boss had been asking for.
“That’s not going to work.” Aelin stepped out onto the mat.
Ryan huffed a breath. “Thanks.”
“No, I meant—” She drew a deep breath. “There’s not a great signal in this neighbourhood. You can use my WiFi if you want. If it would be helpful.”
Ryan glanced up, considering. Finally he nodded and picked up his computer.
Amaya poked her head out the window. “Are you going to be a minute? Can I go see Bailey?”
Ryan started to shake his head, but Aelin said, “Sure. If it’s okay with your dad.”
Amaya’s eyes lit up. His jaw worked, but he nodded. She jumped out of the car and ran back into the house with a hurried, “Thank you.”
Ryan ascended the steps, his brow drawn into a scowl.
Aelin shifted on her feet and motioned to the porch swing. “Sorry. I don’t have another chair out here.” Ryan sat, and the bench creaked. “Um, the network is . . .” She paused, kicking herself for not changing it already. “DarylIsADouchebag.”
Ryan glanced up.
