Page 43 of Falling For You

After Birdie finished half her slice, she hopped off her chair and grabbed my hand.

"Come on! I want you to meet Penelope and Mr. Buttons!"

Birdie was asleep on the couch by the time I stood up to leave. She'd made it through two more rounds of questions, half a Nancy Drew chapter read aloud by Wyatt, and a second slice of pie before her eyes started closing. Wyatt draped a blanket over her and walked me to the door.

"Your daughter is adorable."

"She likes you." He leaned against the doorframe. "And she's an honest kid. She tells me when she doesn't like something. I've heard her opinions on my cooking, my music, my driving, and my hair. Criticism from a six-year-old shouldn't hurt as much as it does."

I laughed. "What did she say about your hair?"

"That it looks like a broom."

"She's not wrong."

He laughed. Neither of us said anything for a second.

"Thanks for the pie," I said.

"You're welcome to come over any time."

I didn't leave right away. I should have. The conversation was over, the pie was eaten, the kid was asleep. There was no reason to still be standing in his doorway. But my feet didn't get the message.

"Thanks, Wyatt."

He didn't look away.

I walked down the steps and crossed the street.

Inside, the daisies were on the counter where I'd left them, leaning sideways in a glass of water. I changed into sweats, pulled my Kindle off the charger, and sat down on the couch.

I opened my Kindle. Reid and Elise were still in the kitchen where I'd left them. I read a few pages, but my mind kept drifting across the street to pie crumbs on the table, Penelope and Mr. Buttons lined up on the couch, and a little girl counting mysteries on her fingers.

CHAPTER 18

Lockwood

WYATT

Selena was wiping down the lunch menu chalkboard when I walked in.

"What's good today, Selena?"

"I just pulled a fresh batch of empanadas out of the oven. Sit down."

Barb needed groceries and offered to get Birdie from school on the way. So when Knox asked me to help him pick up his motorcycle from the shop in the afternoon, I agreed.

Gus poured my coffee before I reached the stool. Same mug, same spot at the counter, same conversation that started the second I sat down: what Birdie was reading this week, whether the crew was coming on Friday, his son's latest promotion he'd already told me about twice, pictures his daughters sent of the grandkids.

"Are your kids coming in for Thanksgiving?"

"Flying in next Friday. All three. The house is going to be a mess and I can't wait." Gus smiled. "What about you? Still doing the camping trip?"

"If Birdie has her way, we're leaving the second school lets out."

"That girl." Gus shook his head. "She's got you wrapped around her finger."

"Always has."