He snorts. “That’s your takeaway from this whole thing?”
“I’m just saying—I could match you at least thirty percent more if you were a lumberjack.”
“Tempting.”
Yes. He’s very, very tempting. “Oh, trust me, itistempting,” I say, then quickly add, since I have to stop myself, “it’s tempting to put that in your bio.”
He tosses me a look—sexy, sly, those green eyes twinkling with amusement. “And is that how you’re going to pitch me for all these matches you’re setting up before I’m out of commission? ‘Looks good as a lumberjack?’”
Evidently, that would do it for me. “You’re getting the hang of things.”
“In your dreams, Isla. In your dreams.”
I jerk my gaze away.
Because oddly enough, hedidstar in my dreams the other night. But I refuse to put any stock in that. Dreams are just your brain sorting through the detritus of the day. For whatever reason, the detritus of my day featured Rowan in candy cane boxers, decorating a Christmas tree.
Dreams are such silly things.
Best to dismiss them fast when reality hits as the day dawns.
But when we’re emerging from the tranquil woods, reality must hit Rowan since he catches a glimpse of his watch, then mutters, “Oh shit.”
12
FOOL ME ONCE
ROWAN
When we leave the quiet Christmas tree forest, it’s like emerging from a time warp. Trouble is I’m praying Isla’s installed a turbo jet pack in her car, since I’m late to pick up Mia.
How the hell did this happen? I play a goddamn timed sport—I don’t struggle with the clock. I’m always on time if not early. But we ventured so far into the woods and—I hate to admit it—I got a little lost in the conversation about the future.
Once we hit the highway, the traffic flips us off, and we’re stuck slogging behind cars until we reach Sausalito.MaybeI can make it home to get my car, then to Mia’s school. But still, I’m tapping my foot, checking the time, and weighing my options.
“I should call my mom,” I say reluctantly, but I feel bad already. “Mom’s probably inking a client right now. Her shop’s not that far from Mia’s school in Japantown.”
“The GPS says we should be at your house in fifteen minutes,” Isla offers, and that should give me just enough time to slide into my car and race to Mia’sschool by the three-thirty bell. But it’s a razor-thin window.
“Oh good. Pretty sure Mom and Dad have a busy day, since every day at the shop is busy. Besides, she always helps out, and I feel like a douche asking again,” I admit, which isn’t something I usually do, but I’m feeling a little…frayed thin.
“You’re not,” Isla says, her tone gentle, but firm too. “Not at all. And I’m sure we’ll get you home on time.”
I’m not convinced though. I roll through other options. The easiest thing is to text Mia and ask her to go home with Tyler or Sabrina when they pick up their kids, but that has ‘bad dad’ written all over it. My job is literally to be there for my daughter.
Isla takes one hand off the wheel and sets it on my biceps. “If I drive you straight to the school instead of your house, we can pick her up together. That’ll save you time, and we should make it, no problem.”
I’ve had to figure out single parenting for close to five years now, and not once have I ever had to ask a woman I’m attracted to to help with my kid. “You sure? You’ve got the tree on the car. Don’t you need to get it in water soon?”
Her smile is reassuring as she says, “Within six to eight hours of cutting, so the tree should be just fine. And yes, of course I’m sure we can pick her up. I’d love to help,” she says as we cruise over the last hill in Sausalito.
I know she means it. I do, but still, some part of me takes over my mouth and says, “But this doesn’t mean I’m going to like dating.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Rowan, just let me do a nice thing.”
Fair point. “Fine. You’re right. I’m a dick.”
“You said it,” she says, pointing at me.
