Page 42 of A Simple Life

“Yet you supported me at the city council meeting.”

“I realized Thelma would kick my ass for being a grump. She would want this diner to be brought back to life. By being an ass, I was dishonoring her.”

“So you didn’t object about my silly name.”

“I love the name. It’s exactly right. And I want to kick my own ass for being anything but nice to you.”

She cupped my face. “You are forgiven.”

“Just like that?”

“I forgave you when you supported my request. And since then, I’ve grown quite fond of you,” she said with a wink.

Unable to resist, I kissed her again.

“Can I help you with something so you can go home?”

“I just have to put the roast in the slow cooker. It’ll cook low and slow all night.”

“May I come over once I finish for the day? Spend some time with you and Abby?”

“Oh, she would love that!”

“And her momma?”

She linked her arms around my neck. “She’d love that too.”

“Good.”

After my chores were done, I stopped by the farmhouse, had a shower, and then grabbed a tote I had found when I was looking for clean towels in the hall closet. I put it in the back seat, glancing at the sky. It was beginning to cloud over, and they were calling for rain soon. If it stormed, I would be there with Abby and Quinn. Maybe that would help calm their fears.

I swung by the pizza place, ordering a large pie. I didn’t want Quinn to cook, and I had a feeling pizza would be a treat for them. I added some pop and ice cream, putting it in the tote.

I was right, judging from the delight on Abby’s face and Quinn’s wide smile, even as she protested my bringing food. Unable to resist, I bent and silenced her with a kiss. The soft coo from Abby as I lifted my head made Quinn’s eyes widen.

“Farmer John,” Abby hush-whispered. “You kissed my momma.”

“Yep.”

“Are you her boyfriend?”

“Ah—”

Quinn bent down. “That’s a personal question, Abby.”

“But Momma, he kissed you! In the front yard! It’s not like when he kissed you in the kitchen the other day.”

I met Quinn’s shocked gaze. Obviously, the kid was stealthy, and we were busted.

“Yeah, I’m your momma’s boyfriend.”

“Okay. I like you.” She skipped away. “Let’s have pizza!”

“I guess we have her approval,” I mused, handing Quinn the box and reaching for the tote.

“You bring pizza, swings, and share your cake. Hardly a shock,” Quinn informed me.

“Does Momma approve?” I teased.