“That’s not necessary.” Gabby shakes her head. “But thank you for the offer.”
“It’s really fine,” I reply. “He’s welcome to come.”
“Can I ride in your cool car?”
“Sure.”
“No.” Gabby stops kneading her dough and stares at me with frustration. “No offense, but I hardly know you. Do you think I’m going to let you take my kid into the city?”
Without replying, I pull my phone out of my pocket, dial Kate’s number, and with my eyes holding Gabby’s, wait for Kate to answer.
“Do not cancel on me today.”
“I need you to tell Gabby that I’m not a kidnapper, and if I bring Sam with me to lunch today that he’ll be perfectly safe and well cared for.”
Without waiting for Kate to reply, I hold the phone out to Gabby. Sam is silent as he watches the exchange between us. Gabby chews her lip for a second, then sighs and jerks the phone from my grip, and turns her back on me when she says hi to Kate.
I wink at Sam, who winks back at me and smiles that toothless smile.
“Kate, he didn’t need to interrupt you—” She stops and chuckles. “I can imagine. You’re kidding! That’s funny. Okay. If you’re sure. Sam will be excited to see you and Eli too.”
Sam silently pumps his fist in the air triumphantly.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
She hands the phone back to me, which I click off and shove back in my pocket.
“Better?”
“You can take him.”
“Thanks, Mom!” Sam launches himself into Gabby’s arms and kisses her cheek. “You’re the best!”
“Yeah, yeah.” She eyes me with the scary eyes of a stern mom. “You drive safely. Seat belts at all times. Got it?”
“Of course. Does he need a booster seat?”
“I’m not a baby!”
“No, not in Louisiana,” Gabby says with a smile. “He’s too old for that now.”
“Are you ready, Sam?”
“Let’s go!”
He runs out of the house, toward my car, and I stop in front of Gabby and tilt her chin up to look me in the eyes. “We’ll talk later about what’s bothering you.”
She raises a brow. “You’ll be careful with my son and mind your business.”
I tuck her hair behind her hair and grin as I walk away.
“Challenge accepted.”
Chapter Two
~Gabby~
“Challenge accepted,” I mimic after Rhys closes the door behind him. What is up with all of the damn testosterone-flexing men in my life?
And Rhys has more testosterone to fling around than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s super tall, I’d say just a couple inches shorter than my brothers’ six-foot-four, which puts him more than a foot taller than me. His eyes aren’t simply green. They’re bright green, giving the grass a run for its money.
If grass had money.
I punch my fist into the bowl of dough.
As if the eyes weren’t enough, he has that damn cocky half-smile thing working for him that I’m sure reduces most mortal women into a puddle of goo at his feet.
Not this woman.
I mean, sure, he’s hot, and when he tucked my hair behind my ear, just the brush of his fingertips sent heat searing down my spine.
But that’s just because I don’t even remember the last time a man that I wasn’t related to touched me.
And that’s just damn sad.
“More like pathetic,” I mutter and give the dough another punch before covering it and setting it aside to rise.
And this morning at breakfast, he devoured my biscuits and gravy, that sexy, square jaw flexing as he chewed, and he listened to Sam. He didn’t just indulge him and pretend to be interested in what he was saying, he was interested. He’s polite and sweet and sets my libido on fire.
And now I have a sexy, single man living under my roof for God knows how long, being nice to my son, tucking my hair behind my ear, and I’m going to die from sexual frustration.
Because there’s no way I’m having sex with Rhys O’Shaughnessy.
Not that he’s likely to ask me. This is the famous baseball player we’re talking about. He probably has a piece of tail in every city.
And damn if the feminist in me isn’t more than a little pissed that I called them a piece of tail.
I laugh at myself and wander through the empty inn. It’s rarely empty these days, which is great for business, and my own sanity. Between the inn and Sam, my days are full, so when I finally fall into bed at night, I sleep hard.
There’s not time for anything else in my life.
Especially not a sexy athlete with a killer smile and muscular arms.
Of course I noticed his muscles. I’m alive, aren’t I?
I glance around, content that the work is caught up for now, I walk out onto the front porch, and slide into my favorite swing. Both swings on either side of the front door are identical, but this one has always been my favorite. It has the best view of the trees, and it’s where I do my best thinking.
But my eyes are so damn heavy.
So, I curl my feet under me, brace my face in my hand and close my eyes. Just for a minute.
It’s hot today, but the row of oaks provides a nice breeze. I can smell the roses, fully bloomed and reaching for the sun, in the back yard. I should get up and make sure the two rooms I’m expecting guests for are to my standards. I should order more complimentary soaps and lotions.
I should reply to the email I received this morning that sent my heart into my throat. It’s not like me to ignore someone, or to not face conflict head-on, but my gut says to leave it be.