“Are you sad that you lost today?” she asked.
“Not too sad. And I’ll feel better after I get some ice cream. Something ordinary like chocolate—no jalapeños, please.”
Gretchen chortled. “No one puts jalapeños in ice cream. That would be so gross.”
“They might,” Viggo singsonged. “I went someplace very strange once that served mustard and ketchup ice cream.”
“No way!”
“It’s true. And they had potatoes and gravy ice cream, macaroni and cheese, lobster, and?—”
Gretchen hooted. “That’s not even possible!”
“If you can put sausage in a donut, someone can put potatoes in ice cream. I’m not saying it’s right, but…what can you do…call the police?”
More giggles. “Yes! Call my dad. He’ll arrest them and make them change back to normal flavors like bubblegum and?—”
“Bubblegum ice cream? Oh, no.” Viggo waved in protest. “Next you’re going to tell me there’s cotton candy ice cream.”
She hopped like a kangaroo, grinning from ear to ear. “There is! It’s pink and pretty and fluffy and?—”
“Pink, pretty, fluffy? What ice cream is this?” His brow was furrowed and his accent was thicker than ever, but the twinkle in his eye was pure sunshine. “I need cold ice cream,ja?”
“Ja!” Gretchen agreed, slapping his outstretched hand for a high five.
I chuckled at their exchange and if my smile was a little too wide, that couldn’t be helped.
Fuck, I liked this guy.
CHAPTER 25
VIGGO
Doctor appointments had become part of my monthly routine. Freya insisted on my presence, and Dexter didn’t mind. We told anyone who’d listen that it was a matter of carpooling convenience, though it hardly mattered if anyone saw us together anymore. The town readily accepted our friendship.
We were free to drive the winding roads leading out of the Four Forest area without worrying the wrong person would get the right idea. Maybe the subterfuge was pointless. No one would care if they knew we were more than friends. But there was no “us” in our future, and that was the part that was going to be difficult—for me, anyway.
There was a baby coming, and that child, this new family Dexter was building, was his dream. I wouldn’t stand in his way or insinuate myself and make unnecessary complications. No chance.
In the meantime, we enjoyed our newfound freedom. Sometimes we had coffee at Rise and Grind, ice cream at Swenson’s, or pancakes or lunch at Log Cabin Diner. Dex stopped by my flag football practices, and I ate donuts more often than I should have. We were drawn into conversations with his employees,my coworkers, and everyday busybodies about the heat in July, the influx of tourists, or what color Dex should paint the nursery.
Everyone had big opinions regarding the nursery, by the way.
“My sister did my nephew’s nursery in cream with deep-brown accents—perfect for either sex,” Davey had pronounced from behind the counter at Rise and Grind this morning.
“Brown? For a baby? Oh, dear. Wait till the baby is born, Dexter, and paint accordingly, pink for a girl, blue for a boy,” Mrs. Galbraith had primly advised. “Davey, the muffins look stale. Are you sure they’re fresh?”
Layla had shared a sympathetic look with Davey over the older woman’s shoulder and whispered, “Don’t listen to her. Pinks and blues are passé…unless you use a light touch and add a hint of gold or seafoam or a soft gray. Lush! Go shopping in Pinecrest. They have the cutest baby store, Bassinettes and Blueberries. You’ll love it.”
Dex had just nodded along in his usual agreeable manner until I’d eventually leaned in and added,
“This is why you should never talk to people.”
He’d burst out laughing and everyone had turned as if hoping we’d let them in on the joke. Not likely.
I had the oddest sensation of being part of a “we” for the first time…ever. Our connection was based on a shared secret, but it had evolved somehow. I knew Dex’s schedule, and he knew mine. He knew the security code to my workshop, I knew the code to his garage and had a designated parking spot for my motorcycle next to his SUV.
Dex said that I snored, and I assured him that he did, too. Except his came in little puffs of breath that sounded kind of adorable. He knew I liked to sleep on the right side of the bed, and I knew that he ran hot and at some point in the night would kick the covers off and a hang a foot off the mattress.
