“Hey,” Tanner calls out in mock offense.
Maeve doesn’t miss a beat. “Not nearly as cute as you, my sweet husband.”
“That’s better.” He grins and sinks his next ball.
Rowyn angles the phone toward Maria. “What do you think? Cute, huh?”
“Very,” Maria says softly. Her eyes flick to mine for half a second. Then she looks away.
“He owns a bookstore,” Rowyn continues. “And he’s working on his second children’s book. He’s a great asset to our writers’ group. Honestly, I don’t know where he finds the time to do all that he does.”
“Single,” I add before I can stop myself.
Shut up, Tuck.
“Probably has lots of free time,” I add, not able to stop myself.
What am I doing?
“If he’s so cute,” I continue, digging the hole deeper, “Why doesn’t he have a partner? Talented, obviously. Successful, evidently. And great with kids. Something doesn’t add up.”
Ash laughs and bumps my shoulder. “You’re one to talk.”
“You think I’m cute, Ash?” I deadpan. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”
He rolls his eyes, but the women laugh.
“I’m single because I’m busy keeping you all in check,” I add.
Lame.
“Anyway,” Rowyn says loudly, shaking her head at me. “I told him all about you, Maria, and he’d love to meet you.”
Maria shifts on the sofa. “I don’t know,” she says hesitantly. I have to physically resist the urge to climb up to the roof and scream hallelujah. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gone on a date,” she adds quietly. “And I’m not sure about a blind date. I mean…my boys.”
“We could double date,” Maeve pipes in. “I would love that.”
Wow, looks like Maeve likes the idea of Maria and Douchebag…I mean Declan.
Maria glances at her boys. “I don’t know…” Her voice drops at the end, like she doesn’t want them to overhear.
Unfortunately, they do.
“Mom, you should do it,” Lucas says immediately. Every head in the room turns toward him. “He’s a really nice guy and he likes kids,” Lucas continues. “He even invited us all to his bookstore and said if anyone has questions about writing, we can email him. He gave us his email.”
“Isn’t that nice,” I say.
Every pair of eyes swings toward me.
Shit.
That came out way more sarcastic than I intended.
I try to soften it. “Did you have questions, Lucas?”
“Nah,” he says easily. “I don’t want to be a writer.” He grins. “I want to build houses. Mom talks about moving one day to a bigger place, and I want to build it.”
My heart tightens as he glances at his mom, and I catch the soft, loving way she returns it. It’s the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever seen—or heard. The way she looks at her boys, the care in every gesture, every small laugh. They’re so lucky to have her. And I can’t…won’t…fuck that up. Not ever.
