Page 44 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

I steeled myself and said what was true. “Tanner, Mav’s dad, he’s sort of a free-range natural catastrophe. He comes around when he wants to be the hero, then disappears the second anything gets complicated, or he gets bored.” I paused, testing whether that was too much information, but Gen’s face didn’t shift an inch. “I tried to make it work for years. It turns out, some people are just allergic to consistency, the truth, and monogamy.”

Gen nodded, lips pursed but not in judgment. “My dad was like that too. Romantic as hell, but a total flight risk. He’d show up with a bouquet, sometimes with a new girlfriend, always with a story. Then as soon as I’d get used to him being around, he’d disappear, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake.”

Hearing that Gen not only got what I was saying, but related to it, only made me like her more, which was probably the reason I found myself saying, “That’s why I put myself on a dating hiatus. No men until Mav graduates college. Or med school. Or maybe never.”

Gen’s head fell back as she laughed, and for a second I thought she was going to give me some platitude about good men being out there and that I should give them a chance, but instead she said, “My dad was, is, a lost cause, but after my third stepdad I drew up a contract that basically said the same thing you are saying for my mom. No more dating. She signed it but she only lasted four months.” Gen exhaled a sigh, voice softer but still blunt. “But honestly? When my parents were with the right people, which happened maybe twice, it made everything better. The wrong ones? They were like pouring vinegar into the Kool-Aid.”

“So do you wish your mom had honored the contract and just stayed single?” I asked, not sure what she was getting at.

Gen cocked her head. “When I was a kid, I thought so. But now? I just wish she’d had better taste in men, a better picker. Ninety percent of the guys she was with, I honestly believed, was just to try and forget my dad, or maybe because she was afraid of being by herself.” She shrugged again, the motion practiced and elegant. “But despite my reputation, I am a secret romantic, and I think that the person who’s meant for you is worth any risk or breaking any rule.”

That was still sinking in when a tornado in cowboy boots and mismatched socks shot through the door.

“Guess what!” Mav shrieked, arms flailing in his best helicopter impression. “Dean said I can help feed the goats! By myself! And I get to name the new baby one!”

Unlike me, Maverick was not avoiding Dean. He had become Mav’s idol/mentor/big-brother/uncle hybrid within days of us arriving on Lockhart Ranch property. At first, I’d been nervous that Dean’s brand of stoic would clash with my son’s rambunctious mania. But Dean had an uncanny knack for absorbing Mav’s spirited energy, like one of those weighted blankets for hyperactive children.

“Mav, say hi to Miss Gen.”

Mav instantly calmed himself and redirected his attention to the woman I doubt he’d even noticed was there when he whirled in.

“Hi, Miss Gen.” Mav took a deep breath. “Nice to see you.”

I’d been working on his manners for quite a while, so despite my initial disappointment in his total disregard for politeness, I was proud that he pulled himself back so quickly.

“Nice to see you, too. I’ve heard you and Nonna are going to make rainbow cake next time you go over.”

“Cool.” Mav smiled at Gen then turned his attention back to me, not realizing his response had been rude in the slightest. “Can I go? I have to go! Please, please, please,” he begged. “Dean said maybe I can do the horse chores when I’m five.” He held up his hand, fingers outstretched, demonstrating the numerical representation of the age he’d need to be to start farming.

Before I could decipher whether that was an officially sanctioned program or just Dean’s diplomatic way of stalling my child, guess who materialized at the door looking, as always, like he’d been carved from the trunk of a particularly grumpy, sexy redwood?

Dean gave us his customary nod of recognition, which conveyed “hello,” “I see you.”

He looked at Gen first. “Hey,” he said, a word that I’d discovered doubled as both greeting and threat among the Lockhart men.

“Hey yourself,” Gen replied, not missing a beat, she tilted her head towards Mav. “I heard you’ve got a future rodeo star in training out there.”

Dean raised an eyebrow in my son’s direction. “He’s got the temperament for it,” he said, deadpan, but if you listened close enough there was a trace of pride hiding in his tone.

Mav glowed. “We’re gonna go now, okay Mom?” He was already halfway out the door, all but dragging Dean in his wake.

“Don’t let him eat goat food. Again,” I called after them, and Dean gave a subtle thumb’s up, which in his dialect meant “I’ll try, but no promises.”

“I was talking to Mav,” I teased.

Dean’s face broke into a smile that had enough wattage it could have lit up New York City. My entire body reacted without my approval. I felt tingles in places tingles did not belong.

The boys left, Dean locking eyes with me in that infuriatingly concise way he had before he left. Gen let out a low, impressed whistle.

Gen watched the scene unfold, then turned back to me, eyes twinkling. “That one’s trouble,” she said, and I wasn’t sure if she meant my son or Dean.

“Tell me about it,” I replied generically, but I didn’t quite mean it the way I used to. These days, he felt a little less like trouble, and a little more like hope.

“I’m serious,” she said, shaking her head with a little delighted shiver, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

It took me a moment to realize she was talking about Dean and not my four-year-old. “What day?” I asked, half expecting a punchline about the likelihood of Dean spending time with a human under the age of forty.

She laughed, the sound like clinking ice cubes in a glass, and leaned across my desk. “The day Dean Lockhart caught feelings for something that wasn’t a line on a spreadsheet. Did you see his face? I thought he was going to smile so hard he’d crack in half.”