10. Penny
TEN
PENNY
“I’m so sorry, Penny. Any other day I would, but I need to get the kids from Max’s after school. Brooks has a dentist appointment, but I can help you out this weekend if you need anything.”
“That’s all right, and thanks.” Although it was anything but all right. My phone burned my palm as I gripped it in my hand, still hot from the text I received from Gavin a few minutes ago.
I can pick you up after school and take you home. Might be a couple days on your car.
I should have been worried about my car and the cost of repairs, but it was the thought of sitting in Gavin’s truck again that had my heart racing and my palms clammy. Pretty sure the tip of my nose was red too, something that only happened after I spent time running on a treadmill.
Gavin’s presence unsettled me, and this morning it hadn’t been like at the diner. I kept thinking about the lingering scent of his cologne that somehow reminded me of a rumbling spring thunderstorm.
“You okay?” Faye tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t have a ride…”
“No, it’s fine. Gavin said he’d do it, but I didn’t want to put him out.”
Faye snorted and pressed her lips together to fight a smile. “I mean, it’s Gavin. I wouldn’t mind putting out.”
“That’s enough, you crazy woman.” I barked out a laugh and turned to leave her classroom. “Don’t get started on that.”
Her brows had winged up so far and so quickly on her forehead when I climbed out of Gavin’s truck in the drop-off line at school I thought they were going to fly right off her face.
“I’m just saying!”
Yeah, yeah. She’d said plenty to me all day, both with her looks and her words.
I shut the door behind me, cutting off her laughter. Gavin looked at me like he could barely stand me. The last thing he saw was a woman he was attracted to.
Which was bad, really bad, because the more time I spent around him, the more I was doing the exact opposite. He wasn’t all jerk. He had walked me home and been polite. He’d offered me a ride and taken care of my car when he could have gone straight to work.
He might have ignored me at dinner, but he had shared their dessert.
It was one more car ride from the man, his daughter’s teacher, and he was simply being polite.
I could live with that.
Thank you. That’d be nice of you.
It’s not a problem.
Right. No problem at all.
I finished the school day, counting down the minutes until I’d see him to be able to determine if his text was true, and sure enough, at the end of the day, Gavin’s truck was sitting outside, parked in the small teachers’ lot instead of the car-rider pick-up.
I had my large tote bag slung over my shoulder, my lunch bag and computer laptop in my other hand. Josie took off running to her dad’s truck, leaving me laughing as she called out behind her, “Come on, Miss Pesco! My dad’s here!”
Her backpack bounced on her shoulders and all over her body as she ran, but thankfully, due to the length of her little legs, she wasn’t that far ahead of me, so she was still climbing up in the back seat of her dad’s truck and into her booster seat when I reached the truck.
“I’ve got your door,” I told her and closed it before I opened mine and threw my bags in first.
“Thanks!” she cried out and bounced in her seat while I got situated.
“You girls have a good day?” Gavin asked. He barely spared me a glance before grinning at his daughter in the rearview mirror.
“Yes! I even ended up getting to make a snowgirl at recess because Avery remembered her pants and boots! Isn’t that great!?”
“It is, munchkin. How’d you make a snowgirl?”
“Miss Pesco gave us yarn for her hair since we couldn’t use our gloves or anything. And she also gave us one of her carrots from lunch for the nose and everything!”
“That was nice.” He slid his gaze toward me with a soft smile, something I was sure if he knew he was doing, he’d erase in a second.
“It wasn’t a problem. It was fun watching them.”
“We tried to get her to join us, Daddy, but she didn’t have the right stuff.”
“Ahh.” Gavin chuckled and this time, when he glanced at me, his gaze stayed firmly on me. “Had to stay on the cement, did you?”
“Ordering some boots and better gloves is on my to-do list as soon as I get home.”
“I know!” Josie cried out. “We could make one tonight. And Daddy can help us because he’s bigger so he’s able to make the really big snowballs for the body! That’d be fun, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know?—”
“I don’t think?—”
We spoke at the same time. I turned back to Josie. “Maybe another time? Once my boots come in? It’s not like we don’t have all winter.”
“That’s fine.” Her nose scrunched up and her lips pushed out in a pout. “But I want to help you build your first snowman.”
“Or snowgirl?” Gavin asked.
“A snowman is the original,” she said matter-of-factly. “You have to get good at those first before you can make the girl ones. They take more work.”
“Oh, do they?” I asked and didn’t miss the shake of Gavin’s head like his daughter was equally outrageous and adorable.
Who could blame him? She was.
“Yep. Takes talent to make them because girls are special. Isn’t that right, Daddy? Girls are special and deserve extra love?”
Gavin choked. Maybe he cleared his throat. It was definitely a laugh he was hiding behind his fist before he peered into the rearview mirror again. “That’s right, Josie. Girls are special and need extra care.”
“See?” she said to me. “So we’ll start you with the boys because they’re simpler. But you have to pinky promise you’ll make one with me first, before anyone else.”
She shoved out her hand, pinky finger in the air.
“You got it.” I hooked my finger around hers and faced back to the front. We had turned down our street when I glanced at Gavin.
“I’d like to thank you for today, for taking care of my car and stuff, and the rides.”
“It wasn’t a?—”
“Maybe not a problem,” I finished for him. He’d said it enough today. “But it was an inconvenience. I’ve been planning on cooking chicken soup for dinner tonight. Can I bring some over for you and Josie?”
At the suggestion, his smile and easy looks fell, and was replaced with a hard jaw and a scowl out the front windshield.
“I love soup!” Josie shouted.
“That’s not necessary,” he said, but Josie, sweet Josie was already begging.
“Please, Daddy? Please. Soup’s my favorite! But it’s probably pretty messy to carry. You should just cook it at our house and eat with us. That’d be so much funner, wouldn’t it, Daddy?”
If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a red hue creeping up his neck from beneath his hooded sweatshirt.
“Josie…” He voice carried a tone I’d come to know full well, at least when it was directed at me.
The man was mad .
“It’s okay,” I quickly corrected. It was a dumb idea anyway. The man could barely stand my presence on a good day. He wouldn’t want to spend time with me if he didn’t have to.
“Please, Daddy!
“Really,” I whispered to him. “Forget I asked.”
He turned to me, brows arched and a very obvious are you kidding? look stamped on his features. “You think she’s going to forget?”
Well, no, probably not with the way she was still begging in the back seat.
“Sorry.”
“We eat at five-thirty,” he said, and I figured that was acquiescence, until a tiny smirk curled one edge of his lips.
A smirk that did funny things to my stomach and had me looking away.
“But it’s not a thank you for the car, it’s a thank you for this.”
He pointed through the front windshield, and a quick gasp of surprise fell from my mouth.
“You shoveled my driveway?”
“Figured you didn’t have one yet, or a snowblower.”
I didn’t. I absolutely didn’t, and I’d already been trying to figure out how I was going to walk to the hardware store to get one without a car and with crappy boots.
“Thank you. That was really nice of you.”
Josie’s head suddenly appeared between the two front seats. “Daddy’s the nicest guy ever! See you for dinner, Miss Pesco!”
I was still surprised about the driveway and the walkway, so it took me a minute to remember what she was talking about. “Dinner. Right. It takes about a half hour, but I can make it here. Carrying it over isn’t a problem. I promise.”
“It’s fine,” Gavin said and shifted his truck back into reverse. A clear signal to get the hell out of his truck.
What a contradiction the man was. Smiling and giving in while he clearly didn’t want to. Anything for his daughter, I figured.
“Right. Thank you. I’ll see you later.” I grabbed my bags out of the truck, jumped out, and even though he’d put the truck in reverse and couldn’t wait to get away from me, he still waited in the driveway until I was inside my house, behind a closed door.
Only then did he pull away and once he did, I rested my back against the door and thumped the back of my head against it twice.
“This is stupid. Absolutely stupid of you, Penelope Pesco.”
But I was still going to do it. I was going to cook that man and his daughter dinner, and it didn’t mean anything.
It meant nothing at all outside a thank you for helping me out.
That’s all it was.
Showing kindness to a neighbor.
It had nothing to do with my growing desire to get to know that man better, get to know his daughter, and see how they lived. See his house.
Nope.
It didn’t mean any of that at all.
The door swung open so quickly I stumbled back a step. I’d expected, given Josie’s earlier excitement over my being at her house, that she’d be the one rushing to the door to let me in, but instead, before I could even ring the doorbell, it was Gavin who was standing in the doorway.
Gavin, who’d changed into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a different hooded sweatshirt with a logo and Kelley Ranch embroidered right over his chest.
A very well curved, defined chest, obvious beneath the thick fabric.
“Let me take that,” he said, and before I could argue or tell him I had it, he had my reusable shopping bag in his hand and was walking into his house, leaving the door open. “Josie’s finishing up her bath. She’ll be out in a minute, though. Figured I’d get that done with now, so I didn’t have to fight her on it later.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised that suddenly, now he was being kind to me?
Maybe it was the safety of his home? A home that at first glance wasn’t much larger than mine but was definitely a home and not a rental. For a single dad and a young one, I was surprised. Artwork was on the walls, large canvases of countryside. Thick floating shelves took up the wall on both sides of his massive television and as I turned and followed him into the kitchen, the refrigerator was covered with a washable monthly calendar and Josie’s artwork.
He’d told me he renovated it, but I didn’t think that meant decorating it and making it feel all cozy and comfortable.
He set down the bag on the island, looked at it, then me, and the hallway that I figured led to two or three bedrooms.
“What do you need?” he asked. “From the kitchen, I mean, for the soup.”
Right.
I was here to cook, not inspect his home or take up time or space longer than necessary.
“Um...a cutting board? I’m pretty sure I brought everything else.”
He flipped open a bottom cupboard in the island near his hip and slid a large wooden board onto the counter. “Anything else?”
I would have appreciated him to stay nice and welcoming, not that I guessed he’d been much of either, but I could feel him slipping back into grump mode.
“I’ve got it, and I’ll try not to burn down your kitchen.”
He swung wide, terrified eyes in my direction.
“I’m kidding, Gavin. I’ve been cooking since I was eight. I’ll be fine.”
“Eight? That’s Josie’s age.”
“Yeah, well…” I shrugged and stopped myself from saying more. He knew enough about my life, and that was all he needed to know.
“Right, I’m going to check on Josie then.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes off him as he hurried down the hall like his backside was on fire. And what a nice backside it was. I was surprised he’d let me see him so casual, hanging out at home in pajama pants, pants that clung to his hips and molded to the curves of that backside with perfection.
“Whatever,” I muttered and shook the thought away.
So my student’s father was attractive. Big deal.
I’d resisted men before, and I could do it again. Which was a laughable thought in itself. There was no way Gavin would feel the same as me, so there would be no resisting .
“Yay me.” I dug into my grocery bag and pulled out my large stock pot.
After they’d dropped me off, I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt with the name of my sister’s college. My hair went up in a clip at the back of my head. I’d spent time grading tests and then since I had two more hours to kill and nothing to do before I came here, I’d prepped the vegetables, which left me with dicing the chicken as the only form of prep work I needed to do.
I opened the chicken and got to work and had just started dicing the second breast when I heard, “Be right back, Daddy!”
There was the quick rapid thumping of footsteps on wood floor and then there was Josie, dressed in flannel pants and a long-sleeved matching button-up flannel pajama top, a hint of a lavender shirt beneath her purple and pink and black plaid pajamas. She ran toward me, her long, wet hair soaking her top as she came closer.
“You’re here!” She jumped up and down and then climbed onto a stool on the opposite side of the island. “Can I help? I’m really good at helping. My grandma says so all the time.”
“Josie,” Gavin scolded, appearing and heading toward us. “Your hair is getting everything soaked.”
She whipped her head around and droplets flew off the ends of her hair.
I shrieked as some hit me in the face and brushed them off. “Your dad’s not wrong, Josie.”
“Sorry,” she replied. “I was just so excited you’re here and having dinner with us.”
“I know you are, munchkin.” Gavin set down hair ties and a brush on the island next to her. “So how about you sit here while I get your hair ready?”
“I wanna help.” Her arms crossed in front of her and plopped down onto the counter. “That’s the best part.”
“Sorry, Josie,” I said and waved my knife in front of all the ingredients. “I chopped most everything before I came. After I get the chicken cut up, I just have to toss it all in. If you want, though, when your dad is done with your hair, you can help me get the garlic bread ready?”
“Sweet!” She sat straight up.
I dared to glance at Gavin. He rolled his eyes at me and then set down the comb in his hand. “I’ll be right back. Forgot the towel and detangler. You’re good here?”
“Sure am,” I said and focused on the chicken.
Once it was cut, I moved everything over to the stove.
And that was how the next half hour went.
I worked on cooking chicken and quinoa soup while Gavin combed and brushed and then braided Josie’s hair.
I stalled for a moment, holding a can of diced tomatoes frozen in the air, lingering over the pot far after it’d been dumped in as I saw his fingers work with expert precision through Josie’s hair. He wasn’t only good at it, but quick, and Josie only flinched once while he worked.
When I’d started braiding Maize’s hair, she’d screamed and cried and thrown a fit every time I came near her for years until I figured out how to get her French braids in.
“You’re good at that,” I told him.
He barely glanced at me, but Josie broke out into a huge smile.
“I’ve had lots of practice.”
“Better than I could do,” I replied, winked at Josie, and turned back to the soup. A quick taste told me everything was hot and well-seasoned, and while it wasn’t gourmet, it was tasty and healthy.
“Are we ready for the bread yet?”
“You got it, slugger.”
“Slugger?” Her nose scrunched up.
“Baseball term,” Gavin said, patting her shoulder. “Or softball. Means you’re a good batter.”
“Ohhh… did you play sports, Miss Pesco? I don’t, but my uncles do, and I think they’re okay at them.”
Okay was an understatement, and both Gavin and I chuckled. “Yeah, I think they’re pretty okay too from what I hear, but no, I didn’t play sports when I was growing up.”
“Why not?”
I looked at Gavin, who was silent and also surprisingly not scowling at me. Instead, he appeared almost as curious as his daughter. No way was I explaining to an eight-year-old about how I was mothering my little sister by that age and making sure we both survived and were safe as possible. Or that we barely had money some weeks for enough cans of SpaghettiOs and ramen. Playing sports or doing things like dance and gymnastics were never in the equation.
“Too busy with other things,” I told her instead and sliced into the large French loaf of bread. “Now, how about you come and help me with this?”
“Yes.” She fist pumped her little arm. “I’m ready.”
“This might get messy for your fingers.” I turned to Gavin. “Do you have plastic sandwich bags or anything to cover them for her?”
“Got it.”
He came around the island and pulled out a drawer. I pulled out two bags and slipped them on Josie’s hands. “Now, I know there are nicer ways to do this, but this way is more fun. You’re going to scoop up a chunk of butter and spread it all over the bread, okay? When you’re done, we’ll add some garlic.”
“Got it.”
I stirred the soup while she got the bread all nice and buttered. I’d already turned the oven on and once she was done, I opened my garlic chopper and handed her the small cup that had freshly cut garlic in it.
“That is cool ,” Josie said. “Grandma always says she hates garlic because it makes her fingers sticky.”
“Well, now you know what she needs for her birthday or Christmas.”
“Great idea! Dad, we can get this for Grandma?”
“Sure, Josie,” he replied. “I need a drink. Want anything or did you bring that too?”
There was a tease in his voice, and I grinned at him.
My mistake.
He was looking at me with a soft expression, like he actually didn’t mind me in his house, and I wasn’t quite prepared for it. So not prepared that when that expression turned into a smirk like he knew what I was thinking, I was still gaping at him.
“Beer?” he asked. “Water?”
“Water, please.”
“Milk or water, Josie?”
“Can I get chocolate milk?”
“Not today.”
She rolled her eyes like she’d heard that far too many times and shrugged off her disappointment. This girl. With as much as she got away with, I was almost surprised Gavin didn’t give in.
“Fine. Milk then, please.” She looked up at me with bagged and buttered hands and a wink. “It’s good for my bones.”
“It sure is. Now, here’s the garlic. Shake it out over the bread and then move it around so we’re not left with a huge pile of it in one place, okay?”
“Got it.”
She worked quickly. Gavin slid a glass of water onto the counter near me and there was the quick, quiet hiss of his beer opening.
While the bread cooked, I worked on cleaning, stirred the soup, and listened to Gavin and his daughter chatter about everything and nothing. She asked if more snow was coming and when she could go back to her grandma’s to see Goldie.
Nothing big, nothing earth-shattering. Normal stuff. Conversations I only ever had growing up with Maize.
A pinch of jealousy I’d always worked so hard to stave off hit as I was rinsing off Gavin’s cutting board. I was raised by a single parent who was never around and cared more about herself. Josie was given the gift of a dad who truly loved her. She was young and already starting off in a much better position than I ever had.
“I’ll do this,” Gavin muttered, and I hadn’t realized he was standing next to me, reaching for the cutting board.
“I don’t mind.”
“You cooked. I’ll clean. It’s not a?—”
“Problem,” I finished. “You’ve said that quite a bit today. Have at it, slugger.”
He chuckled.
I checked the soup and the bread, and then Josie helped set the table and soon we were all sitting down to dinner at their family table.
Nothing awkward about it.
Nothing awkward at all.