Chapter 4
FOUR
Join the five o’clock club,they said. You’ll be wealthy, they said. You’ll run the world, they said.
What a joke.
While waking at this insane hour of the morning used to be inspired by my drive to earn my degree at the fastest rate possible, it’s now an essential part of my life if I have any hope of getting shit done. I’ve quickly learned that any type of productivity goes out the window the moment Lucy’s feet hit the floor each morning. That’s when daddy duties begin, then work priorities take over, and after all that, I’m too exhausted in the evenings to do anything but eat dinner and cuddle up with Lucy to watch one of her favorite shows.
As soon as my head lifts from the pillow that Monday morning, I slip into my den to beat on my keyboard, filling the Word document with all the inspiration I’ve been acquiring since moving here.
Once my alarm goes off, I gather laundry baskets and start the wash, then I clean the kitchen from the mess I was too tired to clean the night before, check work emails, and pay bills. Then I’m finally ready to dress for my morning run.
Now this, I actually enjoy. I start at a slow pace, beginning to create my mental checklist as I go.
? Shower and get dressed
? Wake and dress Lucy
? Make breakfast
? Pack Lucy’s daycare bag
? Drop Lucy off downtown
? Grab dry cleaning
? Run by post office
? Coffee and donuts for the office
? Client appointments
Before I realize it, I’m on my fifth and final mile, and sweat has completely drenched my shirt. With a quick tug, I yank it from my body and tuck it into the waistband of my black shorts. As soon as I’m back in the house, I head straight to the kitchen and down a large glass of water then pour another. One might think I would be used to humid summer mornings after a lifetime spent in North Carolina, but that will never happen.
There’s a knock at the front door, and before I can run through the list of possible visitors, Francine is opening the door.
“Evie,” she says, “thank you for coming.”
I freeze, water glass still cold against my lips as my eyes catch on my fill-in landlord. Her hair is curled with half twisted up into a thick bun and loose pieces framing her heart-shaped face. She’s wearing another mid-length skirt slit to the thigh, this one burgundy. Again, she’s sporting another vintage black T-shirt, but this one appears to be a couple inches shorter than the others.
She’s beautiful—phenomenally so—and in the simplest of ways. Her hard-shelled demeanor only adds a level of mystery, reminding me of all the parts of her I still don’t know.
“It’s no problem,” Evie says. “The furnace will only take a minute to fix.”
I completely forgot Evie said she would be over in the morning to help Francine in the guesthouse. But Francine should have mentioned the time. Maybe then I would have been prepared to deal with my unfiltered thoughts.
Francine steps back. “Come inside, please.”
Evie takes a step into the foyer at the same time her eyes find mine—or, rather, my bare chest. I’m not sure even she knows she’s doing it, but her gaze glides over every inch of me before finally flickering to meet my gaze.
Her cheeks darken when she realizes she’s been caught staring.
I’m no better. I don’t know why words are failing me so miserably, but we don’t exchange a single word before Francine leads Evie out the back door of the main house. I watch as they follow the stone trail to the small guest cottage that gives Francine her own space and makes this house perfect to rent from Patrick.
Once they disappear inside the cottage, I rush to the master bathroom to shower. I’m already off schedule, and Lucy will be waking up soon.
As if on cue, as soon as I’m dried and dressed, I hear the pitter-patter of little feet in the hallway. I swing open my door and scoop up Lucy, smiling back at my sleepy-eyed, pouty-faced little girl. “Morning, sunshine.” I plant a kiss on her cheek, which earns me a grumpy groan.
Chuckling, I carry Lucy back into my bathroom while I finish getting ready. After setting her on the counter, I apply deodorant and trim my beard just enough to keep it tidy. I don’t mess with my hair, other than to smear in some gel and rough it up a bit. Lucy reaches her hands up, her fingers apparently itching to do the same to my hair. I laugh and lean down so she can slide her fingers in there.
“Eww, Daddy.” She wrinkles her nose and looks at her hands like they’ve turned into aliens. “Sticky-icky.”
Letting out a dinosaur roar, I scoop her up. “Who are you calling sticky-icky?”
I give her a quick bop on the nose, making her giggle, then I take her back into her bedroom to get her dressed for the day. I lay out three of her favorite outfits, all dresses with leggings, and she instantly goes for the yellow one with white flowers on them.
“Great choice.”
After Lucy’s all dressed with her hair brushed, we race into the kitchen. I pick her up to set her in her booster seat then turn on the speaker to play her favorite playlist, filled with kids singing the hottest current hits. Pulling down three different cereal boxes from the pantry, I set them on the table. “Take your pick, Lucy Goosey.”
She giggles, just like she does any time I call her any one of her nicknames. “You’re a silly goose, Daddy.”
I gasp and lean over to tickle her side. “I’m a what?”
She squeals out her laughter. “A silly goose!” she tries to say between giggles.
Releasing her, I reach for a box of cereal, pull out the plastic bag inside, then stretch the box over my head to wear it like a hat. “What about now? Am I still a silly goose?”
Lucy explodes into the type of infectious belly laughter I find myself living for these days. In an effort to keep Lucy fully entertained, I do a ridiculous dance around the kitchen while I grab a bowl and the milk before finally placing it all in front of Lucy.
But instead of eating, she reaches her hands in the air. “Dance with me, Daddy!”
Pulling her out of her seat, I take her little hands in mine and spin her around the room, complimenting her intricate stomp-like dance moves as she tries to keep up with the beat. On the final note of the song, I support Lucy’s back while I dip her, nearly forgetting that she was an all-star in gymnastics last year. She bends back so far that her hair sweeps the ground, causing me to laugh.
Someone clears her throat, causing me to look over to the back door of the kitchen. Francine has a joyful expression on her face as she stares adoringly at her granddaughter, while Evie looks like she’s trying to hold back a smile—and failing.
Lucy runs up to Francine and pulls her into the kitchen. “Gammy, dance!”
As the two of them start bopping around the kitchen, I take the opportunity to step over to Evie and say what I should have said when she initially arrived. “Hi.”
Evie smiles fully, a twinkle of amusement never leaving her eyes. “Hi.” Her focus rises to my head while mine drops to her mouth.
She gently licks her bottom lip before biting down on it. “My favorite.”
There’s a kick in my chest at her words, and for a second, I think she’s somehow referring to me being her favorite.
Then her arms raise to lift the cereal box off my head. “Lucky Charms,” she adds, confirming that I’m an absolute idiot. “Lucy has good taste.”
“Actually,” I say, taking the box. “Those are my favorite. Lucy happens to like Cheerios better.”
Evie’s jaw drops in mock astonishment. “Nobody likes Cheerios better than Lucky Charms.”
“She’s three.” I wink. “Give her time.” We share a grin, brief but memorable all the same. “I happen to have enough Lucky Charms to share if you’d like to stay for breakfast.” As soon as the invite leaves my mouth, I worry it’s too much too soon. “Unless you have to be somewhere.”
Evie opens and then closes her mouth, clearly conflicted. “Actually, I should go. It’s our monthly staff meeting at Firefly, and with Patrick gone, it’s mine to lead.”
“So, you’re running the show, huh? Between the bar and the rental properties, you’re a busy woman.”
She shrugs. “Nothing I’m not used to. Patrick loves his vacations, and I basically run the bar as it is already. Eventually, he’ll hand it over to me, but the Firefly’s been his baby for nearly twenty years. He’s not ready to let it go just yet.”
“Is that what you want?” My eyes search hers. “To own the bar?”
Her wistful smile catches me off guard. I get glimpses of depth in Evelyn Vaughn with each conversation, but it’s a depth I’m not sure she’s explored yet.
“It’s always been more about the books for me than it is the bar,” she says, and somehow it feels like she just confessed one of her deepest, darkest secrets. Like she’s never said those same words aloud to anyone else.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking—me hoping there’s some part of her that feels comfortable to open up just a little bit more.
Before I can ponder that thought further, Evie excuses herself from the kitchen, saying goodbye to Lucy, Francine, then me and heads toward the front door like she’s in some kind of hurry. I’m drawn to her like the opposite pole of a magnet, following her to the front drive, searching for something to say as if I don’t want her to leave.
That’s just the thing, I realize. I don’t want her to leave, and it’s not because I want her as a client.
I’ve been attracted to many women in my life, dated a handful when I felt like we could eventually become something more, but I’ve never felt an attraction quite this strong to someone I barely know. Since the moment I laid eyes on her in my office, I’ve been fighting an obsession to know more about Evie. I know it’s not healthy or normal—and from a professional standpoint, it’s wrong in every way.
But as I look at Evie, I’m just not sure how much I’m willing to listen to that bird chirping away inside my head about what’s right and wrong.
“Thank you again for helping Francine with the furnace issue,” I say.
Evie’s lips curve up. “Not a problem, really. I lived in that guesthouse for a few years, so I know all the tricks. It’s just a broken nozzle. You have to remove the plastic cover and turn the actual metal piece itself.” She sighs. “Patrick tried ordering a new piece years ago, but it’s so old that they don’t make replacements anymore.”
“Well, you’re a lifesaver.”
Evie shakes her head and chuckles. “You’re giving me way too much credit.”
I shrug, craving more laughs from her just like that one. “Get used to it. I’m sure your assistance will be needed again soon.”
She smiles. “You know where to find me.”
When she turns and begins to stroll down the driveway, I realize she isn’t heading toward a car. “How did you get here?”
She tilts her head. “I walked.”
Mortification rips through me. “You walked all the way here?”
Evie lets out another laugh. “You say that like it’s far.”
My mental calculation of time and distance isn’t adding up fast enough, so she takes pity on me.
“It took ten minutes,” she says. “It’s fine. Really.”
“Let me drive you.” I didn’t mean to blurt out the words like that, so I try again. “We’re heading in the same direction,” I say, this time making a conscious effort to slow down my words. “I just need to get Lucy fed, then?—”
“It’s okay, really.” Evie starts to back away. “It’s my choice to walk rather than drive.”
I move toward her, not ready to give up. “You’re telling me you have a car?”
“I don’t, but Patrick has plenty. I can always borrow one of his if I really want.”
“But you don’t want.” It’s not a question. I just can’t believe what I’m hearing.
Evie shakes her head then swivels around to walk away. She raises one hand and waves without looking back. “See you around, Doc.”
And as I watch her reach the end of the driveway and turn the corner, I wonder how many other excuses I can find to get her to come back to my house soon.