The Fix (The Carolina Connections, #1)(19)

After a few moments she opened the door a touch. “I guess. But you have to act like a normal person. I have company and my son is here.” Ah, so the little kid was her son, not Gavin’s. But she didn’t have a ring, I’d noted earlier. Still, I reminded myself to tread carefully. She stepped aside and left the door open for me. I followed her into the house and closed the door behind me. The doorknob fell off into my hand. Huh? I looked at her questioningly. She looked at my hand.

“Oh crap,” she said and grabbed the knob from me while pushing the door to rest in a position that was mostly closed.

“You’re worried about my building threatening your kid’s safety and your front door doesn’t even close?” I couldn’t resist.

Her hand shot to my mouth and covered it. “I thought you were here to apologize,” she hissed.

I was too distracted by the effect her touch had on me to respond. Her warm hand stayed over my mouth a few seconds too long as her eyes rose to meet mine.

Could she feel that too? Apparently so, because the next second her hand dropped like it had been burned, and then both of her hands went to her cheeks and started running up and down over the sweet little freckles I’d just noticed. Sweet little freckles? What was I now, a girl?

She turned her back and hurried from the entryway. I couldn’t do anything but follow.

It turns out we were headed into the kitchen where a very petite blond woman stood at a stove that was older than dirt, stirring something in a pot. The little boy from yesterday, who I now knew was Laney’s son, was sitting at a blue table with a pile of Legos in front of him. He wore a gray t-shirt with a yellow chick on it and the words “Chicks Dig Me.” Just under the sleeve of the shirt I could see one of those stick-on tattoos but I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. I liked this kid already. I could work with this.

“Nate, this is my friend Fiona and my son, Rocco.” Laney did the introductions, one hand still holding her cheek.

Oh shit, a thought suddenly occurred to me. Were these women a couple and this was their son? I was usually so good at spotting signals and I could have sworn Laney was into me, even if she didn’t want to be.

The woman named Fiona whirled around, clearly not expecting a strange man to appear in the kitchen. She looked me over and I can tell you she was not shy about her head-to-toe perusal. I was beginning to feel a little violated, she was so thorough. Okay, so totally straight—that was a relief.

“Fiona, Rocco, this is Gavin’s boss, Nate Murphy. Rocco, say hello to Mr. Murphy,” Laney gently directed.

“Nate. Nate’s fine. How’s it going, Rocco?” I waved to the kid. “Nice tattoo. Did you get that in prison? I’ll bet it kills with the ladies.”

Crickets.

“Five-year-olds don’t really get sarcasm,” said Fiona, leaning toward me and offering her hand.

“Oh,” I said stupidly as I took it. Fiona couldn’t have been more than about 5’4” and she was wearing sky-high heels, so her actual height was probably closer to an even five feet. She had light blond hair and a tiny face to match her tiny body. She was cute in a spunky kind of way, but was a complete contrast to her bombshell of a friend.

“So, Nate, I hear you’ve been stirring up some trouble in the neighborhood,” Fiona led with a wink.

“Oh no,” Laney interjected, “none of that. Nate is just here to apologize for yesterday and then he’s going to be on his way.” She had lost her slightly frazzled demeanor and was back in command.

“No!” Fiona argued and looked beseechingly at me. “You have to stay for dinner. I’m making penne with a fabulous tomato cream sauce and meatballs for my main man over there.” She tipped her head toward the table where Rocco still hadn’t acknowledged my presence and was busy building a Lego structure. “You’ll love it!”

While the two women silently communicated in a series of indecipherable facial expressions and hand gestures, I accepted the invitation before it could be revoked. “Sounds great!”



“Are you the man with the construction trucks?” Rocco spoke his first words to me ten minutes later. We were all seated at the hideous blue table over bowls of admittedly delicious pasta. Fiona could cook.

“I am,” I said, thrilled to finally have something that might win the kid over. I needed all the help I could get. “You like construction trucks?”

“Yeah. Uncle Gavin took me to see them yesterday but we only stayed for a minute. My favorite is the backhoe.” All of his “s” sounds came out as “th” sounds and I had to admit it was pretty damn cute.

“That is a good one.” I nodded at him.

He twitched his nose and went back to his meatball. It seemed I was dismissed. So much for that.

As Fiona had been preparing the pasta earlier, I took the opportunity to explain to Laney that my tirade yesterday had been the result of things that had nothing to do with her or her friend. I did a bit of light groveling and she seemed to be receptive on the condition that I also apologize to Charlotte. I agreed and the matter was closed. Why she chose to bring it up again over our nice dinner, then, was beyond me. I was just hoping that the presence of Fiona and Rocco would help keep things friendly.

“So Nate, you really don’t have any idea what kinds of businesses will rent the space?” She licked some pasta sauce from her top lip and I had trouble concentrating on her question for a minute.