Taking Connor(24)

“No,” she states flatly. “I appreciate it, but no.”

I nod once, deciding not to argue with her. I’ve offered before, and she gave the same adamant answer. So instead, I make an offer I know she can’t refuse. “How about I keep the kids at my house this weekend.”

Her eyes dart to mine, riddled with disbelief. A person offering to watch her five children for a weekend are few and far between. I can’t help chuckling a little, even with the grim news she just shared. “Yes,” I assure her. “You heard me right.”

“You do understand I have five children, don’t you?”

“Are those who all those small people are that are always hanging around you?” I jest, my brows furrowed in mock confusion.

“Five, Demi.” She lifts her hand, all five fingers fanned out. “Five.”

“I was there when each of them was born,” I reply dryly.

“You don’t have to do that, Demi. I don’t want to put that burden on you,” she sighs.

“They’re my godchildren, Wendy. And they’ve spent the night with me before.” This is true. Each of them has stayed with me . . . just not all five at once. But I know I can handle this, and nothing would make me happier than to give her some time to mourn and heal in peace.

She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I confirm, pulling my hand away as the waitress approaches our table. After I order two beers—one for me, one for Wendy—and the waitress scurries off, I add, “Connor will be there to help.”

She smiles. “The kids liked him.” I’m surprised she’s so . . . relaxed about her children being around Connor. She’s only met him twice so it’s not like she knows him well. All she knows is he’s a convicted felon.

“So you trust him?” I ask as the waitress places our pint glasses on the table. I don’t know why I’m asking her. Well, maybe I do. The truth is, my brain keeps telling me to be wary of Connor. His past scares me, somewhat. But the more I’m around him, the more I trust him. But how much of that is this attraction to him that I’m trying to deny I feel? Are hormones getting in the way of my reasoning abilities?

She smirks slightly in thought. “I do. I can’t explain it, but I have a good feeling about him. Besides,” she adds, “Blake wasn’t the kind of man to love anyone who was undeserving. If Blake believed Connor is a good guy, it must be true.”

And there it is. My exact thoughts. And that’s one of the things I love about Wendy. She doesn’t buy labels. Just because Connor was in prison, doesn’t make him a bad person. And even if he was a bad person, people can change, right? I mean, everyone makes mistakes. Granted, hurting another person is a big mistake, but deep down I know there has to be more to the story.

“And I’ll get Lexi to come and help too.”

She’s sipping her beer when she snorts with my words. After she coughs a few times, clearing her throat, in a husky voice she says, “I’m more worried about her influence on my children than I am Connor.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, well I may need her as a reinforcement.”

Wendy nods. “Yes. You will.”



Tuesday seemed to fly by, but Wednesday rolled on, taking its sweet time. My finger taps my steering wheel idly as I drive home to get ready. I have no idea what to wear. I mean, Vick seems like a low-key kind of guy so I’m sure whatever I wear will be fine, but I do want to look nice. I can’t deny I’m excited. A date. I’m going on a date. It’s scary and enthralling all at once. When I get home, I rush inside and hurry upstairs to find Lexi laying outfits out on my bed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you always ask me that every time I show up here?”

“Because you are always showing up here.”

She purses her lips in annoyance. “I said I would come over and help you get ready, *.”

I forgot she said she was coming over. I guess I am an * because of my greeting, but now I’m not so sure I want her help because we’ll probably argue. “I think I can manage on my own, Lex.”

She walks into my closet and yells, “It’s been a while Demi. You’re out of practice.”

I flop down on my bed and resolve to let her help me since she doesn’t seem to be harboring any hurt feelings about my less than inviting welcome. But glancing at the outfits she’s laid out, I’m worried. Maybe it isn’t a good idea for her to help me. As she walks out of my closet holding a nude, skin-tight dress I wore many years ago, I warn her, “I’m not dressing like a ho tonight, Lexi.”

“What do you have all these cute dresses for if you’re never going to wear them?” she asks as she lays the dress with the others on my bed.

“Because I might wear them one day.”

“And why not today?” she counters.

“Because it’s a first date at a town bar, for starters. Secondly, I’m not trying to give him the idea I want to jump his bones on the first date.”

Her facial features brighten, and she perks up. “So you have thought about jumping his bones at some point then?”

I press my lips together, frustrated with myself for not wording myself better. “No. I mean, he’s attractive, but I haven’t thought about anything beyond having dinner with him.”