“You tellin’ me, you drove all the way here forthat?”
“Yup.” He nods, a smirk curving his lips.
“That’s ridiculous, Remington.”
“Answer the question,” he pushes, grinding my last nerve.
I huff a breath and grind my molars. “What’s up with that is, the class was a waste of my goddamn time. And I didn’t even enjoy myself, so there’s no point in going back. Waste of money, waste of time. End of story.”
“Well, why’d you go in the first place?”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s obviously a reason you signed up for the class,” he offers. “I wanna know what that reason is.”
“None of your damn business,” I grind out. “What the hell’s gotten into you, boy?”
“Come on.” Remington breathes out a small chuckle. “Humor me, old man. Comin’ to a class for pottery is so far out of character for you. There’s obviously a reason you decided to give it a shot. It won’t kill ya to give me somethin’.”
I should’ve known this line of questioning was coming the second I saw Remington in that room. I’ve known him for most of his life, and he’s never been too good at minding his own business. But fuck, I didn’t plan on sharing any of this with anybody, much less my son’s nosy best friend.
Exhaling a deep breath, I keep my voice low and even. “The reason doesn’t matter because I won’t be returnin’. And next time you decide to show up here unannounced to stick your nose in somethin’ you shouldn’t, do me a favor and don’t.”
Shaking his head, Remington whistles. “It’s a mid-life crisis, isn’t it?”
“What?” I hiss, my eyes narrowing to slits.
“A mid-life crisis,” he repeats, as if I’m stupid. “Maybe you realized that all your life, you’ve never really done anything other than tend to this land.” He shrugs, completely oblivious to the annoyance reverberating inside my chest. “So maybe you wanted to try something just for yourself.”
“Let me get this straight. I’m having amid-life crisis, and my solution is to find a new hobby, and you think, of all the things, I would’ve chosenpottery?”
“Yeah, why not?” He snorts. “I may be biased, but it’s a pretty good hobby.”
“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind,” I mutter. “Did you fall and bump your head before drivin’ over here? Do you have a fuckin’ concussion?”
Remington throws his head back and laughs. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and for some reason, my gaze lasers in on it. My mouth waters and my stomach clenches.What the hell?
“Fuck, you’re grumpier than usual tonight,” he drawls, wearing that goddamn smirk I just know is going to be followed by some flirty remark that’s going to piss me off. “It’s doin’ it for me.”
There it is.
“And you’re more irritating than usual tonight,” I deadpan.
“Hey, side note. I took your advice.”
My eyebrows knit together. “Advice about what?”
“Lukas. The kid who lost his dad recently.”
“Oh?” It comes back to me. “So, you’re lettin’ him move in with you then?”
Remington nods, but this time when he smiles, it’s thoughtful. “He moves all his stuff in tomorrow morning,” he says. “We got his new room all painted last week, and I bought him all new furniture.”
“Wow, that’s generous of you.”
I’m somewhat surprised he’s doing this. Not because I don’t think he can handle it—because I do—but because he seemed so adamant that he couldn’t when we first talked about it.
“Still don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but it feels like the right choice.”
