Page 35 of The Birthday List (Maysen Jar 1)

We both were laughing as we stepped through the door from her studio onto the pathway that led toward the front of her house.

“Mom?” a man’s voice called from around the porch.

My feet stilled and my smile faltered. I knew that voice.

“Back here, Cole!” Mia yelled.

Cole was Mia’s son?

Yep. He sure is.

He rounded the corner of the house and stopped. The shock on his face mirrored mine, but he recovered first.

“Hey.” Surprise morphed into a slow grin as his eyes locked with mine and he started toward us again. He wasn’t wearing his normal sunglasses today and his eyes were bright in the early-evening sun.

“Hi.” Damn that breath hitch! I sounded like a lovestruck teenager.

My body’s natural reaction to Cole was not in line with my mind. In the week since I’d seen him, I’d been trying to make sense of Cole Goodman. Of how he made me feel.

I’d been trying with no luck.

Cole brought up a lot of emotions that I wasn’t quite ready to explore.

It bothered me that even after a week, I could close my eyes and still see his. That I could still smell his Irish Spring soap. Yet I couldn’t remember what Jamie smelled like anymore.

So I’d resigned myself to keeping some space from Cole—to getting some distance until I had this attraction under control. I’d keep our relationship strictly professional as he looked into Jamie’s murder case.

So much for my intentions.

I’d signed up for ukulele lessons from his mother.

“I see you know Poppy,” Mia said as Cole reached her side.

He tore his eyes from mine to smile at his mom, then bent to kiss her cheek. “Sure do. Hi, Mom.”

She patted his chest. “I’m surprised I even recognized you. How long has it been? A year? Two?”

He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “So dramatic.” His smile was wide as he looked over her head to the ukulele case in my hand. “You survived her torture chamber? I’m impressed.”

“Cole!” Mia slugged him in the gut.

“Ouf. Jesus, Mom.” He pretended to be hurt, letting her go and stepping back to rub his extremely flat stomach. “And you wonder why I don’t visit more often.”

She laughed and I looked to my feet, taking a few seconds to banish all thoughts of Cole’s abs.

“So how do you two know each other?” Mia asked, looking between us.

“Uh . . .” How did I explain this? Your son was there on the worst night of my life. Your son is looking into my husband’s murder case. Your son makes me feel things I don’t want to be feeling.

Nope. Those wouldn’t work.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to explain because Cole came to my rescue. “Poppy came to the dojo the other night.”

“Karate and ukulele?” Mia asked. “And a business owner. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” My eyes found Cole’s, and I glanced back at Mia. “I’ll see you next—”

“You’ll stay for dinner,” Mia interrupted.