It was all he was going to say about his life.
He didn’t want to think he was a failure, but it sure the hell felt that way standing in this nice home in a higher end development that she’d most likely gotten in the divorce from her older doctor husband.
Had he looked up Dr. Tucker Lane? Yep, he had.
Age forty-one, so seven years older than him, now practicing in Wilmington. He’d always heard surgeons had a God complex and he was betting good money Farrah’s ex fit the description.
“I’m done,” Archer yelled, ran past them down a hall, then returned with sneakers on and three gloves in his hand.
“Oh, the laundry room,” she said. “It’s where I store a lot of things off the mudroom.”
He followed down the hall and popped his head in. “Damn. That’s a pretty nice laundry room.”
“Mom loves doing laundry. I don’t get it. Everything has to be sorted, washed and folded just right. It’s worse than sitting in school listening to her talk about it.”
He put his hand to the side of his mouth. “I might be more like you. Toss it in, turn it on, switch it over, dump it in a basket.”
“Oh, my heart,” she said, putting it toward her chest. His eyes followed the movement, maybe glancing over her breasts that were outlined at the same time. Not that he could avoid it. “Then you have to iron everything before you wear it. It’s twice as much work.”
“Or just throw it in the dryer again to get the wrinkles out. That works too.”
She covered Archer’s ears. “Don’t talk that blasphemy in my house,” she said, laughing.
Archer wiggled away and ran out the back door, the two of them following.
“I’m glad you’re still the same as I remember.”
She smiled at him, her long hair tied back in a ponytail that spilled over her back and caught the light. Her soft brown eyes glowed with a mischievous warmth, the very look that had filled the quiet corners of his dreams and left him aching for more when he woke.
He hadn’t felt this alive around a person in longer than he dared to think of.
The fact it was the woman whose kid he was voluntarily watching for a week only made it trickier.
There was part of him that knew he could work this to his advantage, but the other said she might not appreciate that.
So he’d be Archer’s friend and a responsible, reliable adult to Farrah.
Maybe it’d be the boring option, but it’d be the right one.
“I’m just being me,” she said. “Hope you’re doing the same.”
“It’s what I excel at,” he said, laughing.
“Let’s go!” Archer yelled. “You two are taking too long.”
“Guess I’ve been schooled.”
“Don’t let him boss you around,” she said. “I give him some rope because I remember being impatient and excited about things as a kid. And maybe it’s some guilt because he’s not allowed to be that way all the time.”
A breadcrumb maybe? He’d pick it up for a nibble.
“His father?”
She sighed. “Yeah. Long story. They rarely see each other and the cancellation of his Disney trip didn’t go so well.”
“I thought it was a postponement.”
“I’m not getting his hopes up in case it doesn’t happen. This way if it does, he can get excited again. For now, he’s happy he’s got some time with you. There isn’t much more a mother couldask for than to see their child happy.” She reached for his hand for a second, touched it briefly then dropped hers away. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I’m not sure how to repay you.”
