The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(62)

She shakes her head, then rises and uses our linked pinkies to tug me to my feet. “Go home, Levi. Enjoy your day off. I’ll text you later. Promise.”

“Offer stands if you can’t find a sitter.”

“You are a fascinating puzzle.”

And I’m officially being banished.

It’s disappointing.

After Ingrid disappears back to her apartment with Zoe, and I sneak out the back door, my car is gone, exactly as it should be.

My security detail is a well-oiled machine. Giselle is waiting in a Honda Pilot with tinted back windows.

I’ve been sneaking around Copper Valley in cars that blend in for years.

And I’m getting tired of it. Tired of the constant security. Tired of having other people handle some of my most basic needs, like shopping for groceries and setting up a cleaning service.

Tired of being interested in a woman—seriously interested in a woman—for the first time in my life, and that very same life being an impediment to getting to know all of her better.

Giselle eyes me in the rearview mirror. “Rough night?”

I shake my head.

It was an excellent night.

The rough part was that it had to end.





Twenty-Two





Ingrid



Did you know that the three days before Thanksgiving are the third-hardest days of the year to find a babysitter?

If they’re not, it’s close, beat only by Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve, or possibly the holidays themselves. Or maybe the problem is that there’s an early flu making the rounds, and most of my circle is full of working moms or volunteering moms.

And that’s the short reason explaining how my girls end up gaping at me as I formally introduce them to Levi and his friend, Giselle, who will be watching them while I’m working today.

Hudson too, after preschool this morning.

“Are you the real Levi Wilson?” Zoe wants to know.

“That’s his name.” Piper rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“I mean the famous Levi Wilson. The one who sings ‘Got That Back.’”

“I don’t like that song. I can’t understand the words.”

Giselle smirks.

I mean, as much as Giselle ever smirks. But I swear her eyes crinkled a little like she’s amused. And I think Levi sees it too, based on the subtle shut up look he slides her way.

“You sure you’re still up for this?” I ask him.

He smiles the self-assured smile of a man who’s never babysat grade school girls. “Can’t get better if you don’t know what you’re doing wrong.”

Zoe’s still squinting at him. “You shouldn’t wear white pants. They’ll pick up dirt and you’ll never be able to get them clean.”

Now that look he aimed at Giselle lands squarely on me, and I swallow a smile.

I didn’t say a word about his clothing choices when he got back. For the record.

Beggars and choosers and all that. I’m a little desperate for help.

Plus, I like how he looks in his tight white pants, even if I also get jealous that he can pull it off and I can’t.

“I’d leave now if I were you,” Giselle says to me. “Before he changes his mind.”

“And you’re just here to call 9-1-1 if something catches fire or a bone gets broken?”

“He’s the only person I babysit, but I’m morally bound to alert authorities and medical personnel for anyone else in my vicinity who might be in trouble. Your children are safe.”

“How’s your squirrel today?” Levi asks Zoe.

She points to the fridge. Skippy’s sitting on top of it, chewing on a magnet.

“Darwinism,” I mutter.

My daughters both roll their eyes, and now Levi’s smothering a grin.

“Do you know how to bake pie?” Piper asks him.

“Nope.”

“We should YouTube it and learn.”

“Awesome.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Go on, Ingrid. We’ve got this.”

I don’t know that he does, but I’m also not in a position to be picky. Portia’s taking the kids tomorrow night and neither she nor Griff can get off work today. Nor would I ask them to.

They do so much for me already.

Zoe and Piper could technically hang out with me in the store all morning, but Hudson’s spent too much time cooped up there already this fall, so the afternoon would be an issue. Plus, they’d all three be bored.

And as soon as I’m back downstairs, it’s clear that I couldn’t even keep half an eye on them anyway.

We’re way too busy.

“Hey, Ingrid?” Yasmin says as we work the register side-by-side.

“Yeah?”

“Remember three years ago you were freaking out about how much the renovations cost when you weren’t sure this would work?”

“Yes.”

She grins. “It worked. Good job, boss.”

I blush.

I think she’s right. This isn’t just a holiday shopping crowd. It’s regulars. Regulars bringing in friends. People who tell us they heard about us from coworkers.

The loft is so busy that Holly calls her wife in as backup for the coffee bar, which usually only happens the three days before Christmas.