I don’t react. Can’t react.
“That’s what this is,” I confirm.
She nods slowly. “Right. Of course.”
Tommy appears then, soaking wet and grinning like he just won the lottery. “Mama! Can I have a burger now? I’m starving!”
“You’re always starving.” But Rachel ruffles his wet hair. “Go ask Uncle Jake if they’re ready. And dry off first. You’re dripping everywhere.”
Tommy runs off, and Rachel watches him go with that expression mothers get. Proud and exhausted and fiercely protective all at once.
“He’s a good kid,” I say.
“He’s the best kid.” She turns back to me. “Thanks for earlier. The storage room question thing. I know you were just doing your job, but you didn’t make me feel like a suspect. That meant something.”
“You’re not a suspect.”
“I know. But it’s nice to hear anyway.”
Cole calls her name from across the yard. She waves and starts walking toward him, then pauses and looks back at me.
“You should stay for dinner. Jake’s making his terrible burgers, but the sides are good. And you look like you could use a decent meal.”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a question.” She smiles. “Stay. Eat. Stop lurking in corners like you’re working.”
Then she’s gone, sundress swaying as she walks across the lawn to wherever Cole’s waiting.
I want to leave and get in my truck and drive home and put distance between myself and whatever the hell this is.
But I stay.
I stay and watch her laugh with Jake’s friends. Watch her corral Tommy away from the dessert table before he spoils his dinner. Watch her catch Theo’s eye across the yard and smile in a way that makes my chest tight.
Watch Cole hand her a drink and lean in close to say something that makes her throw her head back laughing.
And I realize two things simultaneously.
One: Cole and Theo are definitely interested in her. This isn’t me reading into things. This is real.
Two: I’m interested too. Despite every logical reason not to be. Despite telling them she wasn’t my type. Despite knowing Jake would lose his mind if any of us crossed that line.
I’m interested.
And that’s a problem I don’t know how to solve.
I leave at seven, making excuses about early meetings that aren’t true. Jake tries to convince me to stay for dessert. Rachel offers to pack me leftovers I don’t need.
I decline both and drive home with the image of her in that yellow sundress burned into my brain.
This is precisely what I didn’t want. Exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do after the mess with Samantha three years ago.
But Rachel Morgan isn’t Samantha.
And that might be the biggest problem of all.
Chapter twelve
