Ignite (Cloverleigh Farms #6)(50)

She nudged me with her leg. “It’s all true. Your daughter is smart. She’s probably done the research.”

“She does love research,” I said. “Asking questions is her favorite activity.”

Winnie picked up her water glass. “What does she do with all her knowledge?”

“She writes stories. You should see all the notebooks she’s filled.”

“I love that. A curious, creative soul who loves to learn.”

“Almost as much as she loves socks.”

Winnie laughed. “I saw her swimming with her little aqua socks on. She really hates being barefoot, huh?”

“She really hates it. Just makes her too anxious to enjoy herself.”

“Hm. I wonder what she’d do if I offered to paint her toes for the last weekend of summer.”

I shrugged. “Not sure. I’ve never offered that before.”

“So let’s try it. I have to work Saturday evening—I’m helping Millie with a wedding—but I’ll be around earlier in the day. And I have tons of colors she can pick from. Maybe if she was excited about showing off her fun polish, she’d be less anxious about going barefoot?”

“Maybe. But don’t be hurt if it doesn’t work.”

“I won’t at all, I promise. Let’s try it.”

I was touched by her offer. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”

“My little sisters used to let me give them pedicures all the time. I’ll give Luna one too.” Then she laughed. “You want one?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I have big ugly man feet and they’re going to stay big ugly man feet.”

She laughed. “Fine, be that way. And if you’re too busy, it’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sure if I mention it to them, they will be knocking on your door at eight a.m. Saturday morning.”

“Perfect,” she said. “I like getting up early. And if you want to bring them over to the barn this weekend, we can do that too.” She ate her last French fry. “Maybe Sunday would be good for that. Let me check with my cousin.”

Although Winnie offered to help me with the dishes, I refused to let her, since she’d done most of the work getting dinner together.

“I’ve got this,” I told her, placing both our plates in the sink.

“Are you sure?” She finished her water and set the glass down. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. I’m used to it—at the station, they don’t let me near the food because I’m such a bad cook, so I’m always on clean-up duty.”

She laughed, leaning her lower back against the counter next to the sink. “I think a man who cleans is just as sexy as a man who cooks. Maybe even sexier.”

“I don’t think the guys at the station give a fuck about that,” I said wryly, turning on the faucet. “They just won’t go near anything I make.”

“It’s okay. Your talents lie elsewhere.”

I glanced over to find that wicked little grin on her face, the one that made the crotch of my jeans go tight. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She touched my arm. “Well, I should head out. Thanks for—oh! I forgot to tell you about my job offer.”

“Job offer?” I rinsed our plates and put them in the dishwasher.

“Yes. For a position as event designer at a boutique hotel in Newport, Rhode Island. I got an email today from the new manager there—she interviewed me in New York last spring and remembered me.”

“Nice.” I dumped the ice from her water glass and put it in the top rack. “You gonna take it?”

“I’m—I’m not sure yet. But I’m definitely interested. I just have to reply to her email and tell her so.”

I nodded, unnerved by the way my gut twisted thinking about her moving to Rhode Island. Why should it make any difference to me? “Cool. Congratulations.”

“It’s too soon for congratulations, but I’m kind of excited.” She laughed self-consciously. “And maybe a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been asking myself that all day, and I think it’s just because it’s so far from home.”

I faced her, drying my hands on a kitchen towel. She looked so young with that apprehensive expression on her face. “Leaving home was the best thing I ever did.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah. I was restless. I felt cooped up here. I wanted to push myself, see what I could do.” I shrugged. “I had to prove myself.”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “I’m not sure I have that same kind of cooped-up feeling, but I do feel restless sometimes.”

“You should go for it. Don’t hold yourself back.”

“Thanks.” Smiling, she pointed a thumb toward the patio door. “Should I go out the back?”

“I’ll walk you,” I said, tossing the towel aside.

“Dex, I’m not a kid.”

I glared at her and headed for the back door. “Don’t argue with me. It’s dark. You know how I am.”

She sighed, but she followed me outside.

“Night,” she said, giving me a little wave. “Thanks for . . . everything.”