“It’s okay, Dad. She has sour grapes,” he intercepted in a surprisingly mature tone. “Ooh! This is where we left off last time.Shh!”
“…the wind howled, drowning the ghostly cry of the dark demon and…”
I caught Ivy’s eye in the rearview mirror and winked. She sighed but winked in return, then settled into the leather seats, seeming far more interested in the audiobook than she’d claimed to be.
The chapter ended as we crested the ridge to Wood Hollow. The ghost story had been a perfect reset from my niggling fear and anger and Ivy’s silent stewing.
I muted the volume and turned onto Red Oak Lane, where tendrils of new leaves brushed the top of the truck like a lazy curtain, filtering the afternoon sunlight into spun gold.
And there he was.
A golden man in snug jeans and black tee that showed off his broad shoulders and bulging biceps to perfection.
Silas glanced up from whatever he was looking for in the Jeep’s trunk and gave a friendly wave. Like any neighbor might. But my heart rose to my throat, and my mouth went dry at the sight of him. Jesus, I had it bad. Acting as though we were new friends for the sake of appearances might be a bigger challenge than I’d counted on.
Chase unbuckled his seat belt, craning his neck to get another glimpse of Silas. “Who’s that? Is he the football player?”
“Obviously, genius,” Ivy huffed sarcastically.
Chase ignored her and barreled on. “Mom said she heard he’s here again. We didn’t meet him last time. Can we meet him, Dad?”
“Yeah, but—” He was out of the truck like a shot.
“Ugh! He never listens.”
“Hey, be nice to your brother,” I scolded. “And if possible, leave the bad mood behind. Got it?”
“Okay, fine.” She gave a sharp nod, the garish blue paint shading her pretty eyes like two bruises. She gathered her things and closed the door, her expression softening as she peered through the barrier of trees. “Have you met him?”
“Yes. His name is Silas, and he’s a nice guy.”
“He’s really…big.”
I snorted. Silas would love that.
“Not bigger than me,” I teased.
Ivy pulled a comical face. “I think his muscles have muscles, Dad.”
I hid a grin as we wandered next door, where Chase was lobbing questions at my amused lover faster than a pitching machine on a high setting.
“Did you ever play with Tom Brady? Did you ever go to the Super Bowl? Like, play in it? Did you ever meet Denny Mellon? He’s from Elmwood and he’s a famous hockey player. And Jake Milligan too. Did you meet him? Is that a real NFL football in your Jeep? Can I see it?”
I sensed Ivy wanted to roast her brother for his lack of chill, but the mention of a real football was too intriguing to play it cool. She darted from my side and made it to the Jeep just as Silas pulled a football from his truck.
“Whoa! You’re multiplying,” he joked, offering Ivy his hand to shake. “I’m Silas. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Ivy and this is my brother, Chase.”
“I already told him that,” Chase grumbled.
“And that’s our dad.”
“We’ve met,” I said in a neutral voice…you know, as if he were the mailman, a familiar bartender, or the friend of a friend I’d bumped into more than once or twice.
But this was Silas.
This was the man whose bed I’d been in this morning. This was the man I’d made coffee for and sat next to at the island trading newsworthy headlines while nibbling toast with our knees touching. This was the man I’d kissed good-bye and had apologized to in advance, knowing we’d have to be something else in front of the kids. Strangers.
