Page 20 of Falling for Keeps

Do I leave? The man is going to be convinced I’m stalking him at this point.

“Hey there, Emma,” the store clerk says, smiling broadly. Nate Berkeley is polite, tall, dark-haired, and has a girlfriend. “What can we do for you today?”

“I need grout,” I say quietly, hoping he’ll match my volume. “For the bathroom.”

“Still haven’t put that tile in?”

Okay, does everyone have to remember how slow I am at completing projects? Yes, I bought the tiles here at the beginning of the summer. Six months ago I had high hopes for my sunny productivity. But it’s waned, the garden took all my energy, and I do have a full-time career.

Cool it, Emma. He’s not nearly as judgmental as I’m feeling. This is one of those the guilty taketh the truth to be hard scenarios, for sure.

And he didn’t even lower his voice.

“I’m going to do it now,” I say with conviction. “Next trip I’ll be buying paint. Just watch.”

“I have faith in you.” He smiles. “Follow me. I’ll show you where the grout is.” Nate leads me down an aisle and turns a corner, and I know we’re about to pass Carson. It’s only natural that the item I need would be on the same aisle as him. Why would I ever catch a break?

“If that’s the one you want,” Carson says, glancing up. When his eyes fall on me, he smiles pleasantly, but his attention is back on Penny immediately.

She bounces on her toes, nodding.

“But it’s your mom’s favorite color,” he says softly.

“Mine too,” she says defiantly.

Carson looks like he wants to argue, but he drops it, nodding. “Okay.”

“Be right with you,” Nate tells them, leading me to the other end of the aisle. He points out the different kinds of grout and explains what I’ll need to buy. I did research months ago, so I had something in mind. After hearing his descriptions, I feel confident in my choice.

“Aren’t you my Nana’s friend?” Penny asks, looking up at me.

I smile, surprised she remembers me. Our awkward kitchen run-in was days ago. “Yeah. I’m also your new neighbor.”

“Did you buy your own flour?” she asks.

Humiliation washes over me anew, but I push it aside. When I walked into that house, I didn’t do anything I haven’t done a dozen other times. Sharon doesn’t care when I take a cup of flour, because I always bring her a loaf of bread in payment.

Except I still need to do that. Sour Dan has been bubbling nicely. It’s time to bake.

She’s holding a ballerina pink paint chip, so I gesture to it instead of answering her. “That’s really pretty.”

Penny’s smile breaks out. “My dad is painting my room. It was my Aunt Maven’s room, but now it’s mine, so I get to make it look how I want.”

“You’re really lucky.” I hesitate. “You know, I used to be friends with your Aunt Maven in high school. She’s pretty awesome.”

Penny lights up. “She’s my favorite!”

Carson puts his hand on Penny’s shoulder. “We’d better pick out rollers, Nickel.”

“Can I have my own?”

“Sure thing.”

My body freezes while I try to decide if it’s worth interfering, but I can’t seem to help myself. “Your mom already has everything you’d need to paint her room, except the paint.”

He looks up, his green eyes tracking over my face. They’re calculating, and the heavy way his gaze rests on me makes me feel things I have no business feeling in the hardware store on a Tuesday afternoon. His fingers pressing into my waist, his hot breath over my skin, the way he smelled like man, and how warm I was despite the cold outside.

Good grief, I’m flushed just thinking about it. This is no way to think about a person while you’re speaking to their nine-year-old daughter. I shove aside the snatches of vivid memories and smile broadly. “I helped her paint the kitchen, so I know she has all the things you need—drop cloths, tape, rollers, brushes.”