11. Lottie
eleven
Lottie
A loud bleat outside the front door draws my attention, and I scramble to my feet, rushing to apprehend the escapee before Dad discovers he’s out again.
At this point, I don’t even look. Toast’s bleat is loud enough to bust him. Add in the thud of his headbutt on the door and it’s good as confirmed. By the time I whip open the door, Toast is planted squarely in front of me, blinking at me with his irresistible little face.
“Well,” I exclaim with a sweet smile for the little baby, “I see the gate held up nicely.”
He bleats and turns toward the driveway, as if showing me what he’s been up to.
A shiny black sedan is parked there, and Ty is standing on the bottom step with his jaw clenched and one hand gripping the banister.
Gone are his fancy pants from the museum.
Tonight it’s basketball shorts and a gray T-shirt.
The collar is stretched out, hanging loose around his collarbone and giving me something to stare at, because I officially wasn’t prepared for the pointed look he aims at me.
I don’t know if he’s annoyed at Toast or mad about the museum, but he’s the one who left early.
Toast takes one look at him and bleats again, louder this time.
Ty glares at him. “Is he judging me?”
“Yes.” I dredge up a smirk I hope passes for playful, even though my mind is taking me on a winding detour of thoughts that are anything but playful.
The silence tightens between us as he shifts from one leg to the other.
I crack under the weight of the tension and ramble.
“He does that. He’s better than any guard dog.
Plus, he might be jealous of you since Crunch likes you, and they have this weird rivalry thing going. ”
“Just what I need—to be in some weird goat-jealousy triangle.” Ty chuckles softly, then flicks his gaze over my face like he’s reading my mind.
His stare is so intense it feels like little pinpricks pulsing across my skin, and I turn my head to look at the barn.
Eventually, he takes a tiny step toward me, as if he’s risking his life to move in front of Toast, and his gaze stays locked on me when he asks, “Hey, are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” I keep one eye on Toast, who is miraculously standing still now. “Why? Is there something wrong with you ?”
Shrugging, he takes another step forward, and I tuck a loose tendril of hair behind my ear and process how close he is.
His presence sets my mind off on a game of mental hopscotch, because he always gives me such direct eye contact.
It’s so gentle, I can’t help but think there’s something else woven in there.
Yet aside from that one time in the car when he tried to kiss me, he’s never made a move.
It’s all confusing, but boy, is it hot out here.
I swipe at my brow at the same time he says, “I’m alive but a little bummed, because we had our first practice. Let’s just say I failed to impress.”
“I’m sorry.” I feel that like a tug behind my ribs. “Do you want to share what happened?”
“Nah, it’s not worth wallowing over.” He glances down the long driveway. “Ham invited me for dinner. Is he around?”
“He’s inside.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, motioning toward the open door. “You can go in. I should probably get Toast back in his pen.”
“I can help you.” His gaze meets mine, and the offer softens something inside me. Or maybe softens isn’t quite right. It’s more like an opening … to a trap door I know better than to tiptoe around.
“Ah … I’d like that.” Even with the tension, I’m honest. I’ve always treasured our weird alone time, even if it means he’s ditching Ham on whatever plans they had. Ham can wait. It’s not like he has anything going on.
Just then, my fake date Bodan’s silver SUV rolls down the driveway, coming in too fast for having animals roaming around the yard.
Throwing my head back, I slip out a moan as I remember my mom inviting him over for dinner so she could “preapprove him” before we go public.
He clearly wasn’t warned about the goats, and I cringe as I frantically search for signs of Crunch and Cinnamon.
When I don’t find them, I’m a tad relieved.
Bodan pulls right up to the front of the driveway and steps out of his perfectly polished SUV, wearing a patriotic navy blazer, as if my mom already prepped him.
He waves as he rushes up the walkway. “Hey, Lottie,” he says brightly.
“Your home is incredible.” He does a double take at Toast. “Is that a goat?”
“Yes,” I say. “I have three, and they are master escape artists who never like to stay in the pen. Just a FYI, it’s always good to watch for them when you are coming up the driveway, and it’s best to drive slowly.”
Ty stiffens beside me. I feel it without looking. When I glance at him, a harsh smirk takes over his face. Bodan must feel it too, because he sticks out his hand. “I’m Bodan, the new-hire boyfriend. You must be—”
“Ty.” Ty takes Bodan’s hand, his face shifting into neutral, with no hint of a smile. “Longtime friend. I saw you at the museum, remember?”
“Oh! Great.” Bodan bobs his head. “Lottie has told me all about you.”
My brows pull together. That’s a total lie.
I haven’t said anything. Aside from those few minutes outside the museum when we exchanged numbers, I’ve barely even talked to him.
To hide a flicker of disappointment, Ty’s eyes cut to me.
It hits me harder than it should. It sounds like Bodan and I have been talking a lot, when clearly Bodan was just sucking up to him—but how do I explain that to Ty?
“Hey, Lottie,” my mom’s pleasant, speech-giving voice cuts in from behind us. “If our dinner guests are here, please don’t make them stand on the porch. Show them inside.”
Rolling my eyes, I wave my hand toward the open door. Bodan goes first, glancing in all directions. Ty steps forward, stopping behind me, and grabs the door from me. “Go ahead.”
I want to go in because I’m starving, but my attention drifts to Toast, standing on the bottom step now. “Are we going to let Toast roam free?”
“Sure. Why not?” He shrugs. At this point, I’m about to give up on Toast ever staying in his pen, and I turn on my heel, leading the way inside. Ty follows closely, shutting the door behind him.
The house smells like whatever expensive candle my mother is currently obsessed with.
The old dining room waits beyond the foyer.
It has original décor, with dark wood paneling, and a table long enough to seat an army.
A crystal chandelier throws soft light over the linens, and it’s honestly so formal that it feels intimidating, even to me.
Every time I see this show I fight the urge to roll my eyes. We aren’t this fancy.
This event is all about onboarding Bodan.
Clean-shaven, my dad is seated at the head of the table, wearing a dinner jacket, just as my mom insists he be. His focus is out the long window. “How did the goats get out again?” he asks, to no one in particular.
“Opportunity,” my mom inserts herself into the conversation, already focused on Bodan.
“So, you must be the gentleman Lottie told us about.” My mom spares no mercy as she gestures to the chair across from my dad, requesting him to sit.
When he does, she plops down next to my dad and gets right to the questions.
“Bodan, it’s wonderful you’re willing to work with us, especially on short notice.
Think of this dinner as the orientation to a new job.
Now, tell me, are there surprises in your criminal record we should know about?
” she asks this so sweetly, I have to blink twice.
“No felonies, if that’s what you mean.” Bodan pauses to insert an uncomfortable laugh. “Or anything on my record, other than maybe a parking ticket.”
“That’s excellent news.” Mom is practically drooling, but it’s not from the salmon the staff just served her.
She doesn't even acknowledge her food or say thank you when the waiter bustles around her filling her glass.
“And as far as the job goes, we aren’t looking for a hard sell," she goes on.
"Everything will be done with the upmost professionalism. A couple of photo ops, tops.”
“Looking forward to it.” Bodan pokes into his salmon, taking a bite without bothering to use a knife.
“I bet he is…” Ty mumbles so softly I think I’m the only one who hears it.
I don’t miss Ty’s mouth twitching as he takes a seat by Ham, sitting as far away from me as possible.
I’m assuming that much space between us wasn’t intentional, but yet it feels like he’s somehow expressing disapproval by not taking one of the closer chairs.
Swallowing, I shift my focus to my mom, who is now glaring at Ty. He’s never been a stranger, since he and Ham are usually inseparable when they are in the same city, but my mom also has a way of making it known that he’s beneath her. “It’s so nice you could join us too Mr. Lane,” she says.
It sounds sort of supportive.
But it’s far from it.
It’s her fake attempt to smooth over that foot she still has stuffed in her mouth.
“Yes, ma’am.” Ty nods. “Thanks for having me over again.”
The staff finishes floating around us, placing the last of our food on the table.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this lifestyle, but Bodan appears to fit right in as he doesn't seem to find it off to have waiters in your own home.
Maybe he lives this kind of life too? I guess I never asked about his upbringing.
I could ask, but I really don't care. Not to be insensitive, but my mom's the one who wanted him here. She should talk to him.
I'm more concerned about the way Ty stares at me, making all my words dry up. When I grab my water and sip, I don’t miss, the moment I lift the cup to my lips, Ty looks away.
He always does that, and I always find myself studying him, even when I try not to.
I’ll never be able to rationalize how much of my brain is devoted to indexing everything about him.
It’s embarrassing to admit, but he’s carved out a whole territory of brain cells just for himself.
“Well, Tyson,” my mom’s tone is soaked in stuck-up approval. “It appears you’re doing well and staying disciplined. You know, discipline is important.”
The way her eyes flick to me when she says that makes my chest tighten.
What does that mean?
Aside from the fact, every time I lift a fork or a cup to my lips, Ty looks the other way, dinner passes in a blur of conversation.
Bodan fits in effortlessly. He’s actually a little over the top, throwing his head back and belly laughing at my dad’s lame stories.
He even makes a point to compliment my mom’s blazer, which, as it turns out, perfectly matches his.
My mother beams with pride. Oddly, it feels like they could be friends.
I will never admit my mom had a good idea with this fake-dating stunt, but Bodan will be good for ratings.
He’s charming in all the ways my mom notices. And I don’t even notice his chin mole.
I mean, I hardly notice it when I accidentally look at it.
I don’t think it’s contagious.
After all, my mom would be one of the first to know about a new disease.
Across the table, Ty cleans his plate without saying another word. As soon as the plates are cleared, he slides his high-back chair away from the table and says, “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Halloway, but I should get going.”
I stand, not waiting for Ham to offer. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Oh, nonsense.” My mom makes a sweeping gesture to control my movement. “You can sit while we have coffee with Bodan. That is, if he will stay. Ham can see his friend out.”
I freeze.
Bodan looks pleased and raises his brows at me. “If that’s okay with Lottie, I’d love to stay for coffee.”
“It’s fine,” I hear myself huff, as something in me cracks a little.
We all stand at once, like we’re being directed by a conductor, and move to the living room, where the staff has coffee and tea service set up.
My eyes lock on the floor as I move all the way to the end of the biggest sofa.
I hope Bodan takes the hint not to sit next to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ty leave without looking back.
In the oddest way, my heart stumbles. It feels like I’m losing something I never had.
As happy as my mom is, I know without a doubt this fake-dating thing is a terrible idea.
I’m lying to myself, and it’s sending the wrong message to…
people I care about. Shame rushes through my gut, scraping at my intestines like shattered glass.
Bodan lets out a pleased sigh as he sits beside my mom on the other sofa, already laughing at something she says.
Everyone looks happy.
The waiter comes over and hands me a piping coffee cup, which is good in a way because it gives me something to stare at. I can't help wondering why it feels like I’ve somehow hurt Ty.
That’s crazy.
All I did was exactly what he agreed I should do.