Page 31
Boone grins. “You gonna call her?”
“No, but you should. I don’t have time for all that.”
The answer comes easily because it’s true. Between the shop and Tilly, I barely have enough time to shower regularly. Dating sounds less like fun and more like another responsibility I’d probably fail at keeping up with. Besides, the idea barely interests me anyway. Not when my brain already feels occupied every second of every day.
“Damn. Fatherhood changed you fast,” Dennis says dramatically from my right.
“And I’m proud of it.”
“You’ll be learning how to braid hair and name Disney princesses in no time,” Boone comments as he turns the music up.
I flip him off before heading back toward the car I’d been working on, but the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth betrays me. Little do they know I know how to do French braids and name all the Disney princesses.
About twenty minutes later, the bell over the office door chimes again. Dennis pops upright like a damn prairie dog. “Food’s here.”
Peyton walks in carrying two paper bags and a cardboard drink tray balanced in her other hand. Tilly is in the baby carrier, wearing a pale green onesie with small rainbows printed all over. The knot in my chest loosens at the sight of them. The feeling hits so fast that it throws me off for a moment, because I spent the entire morning half-convinced something upstairs would go wrong.
“Well,” Peyton says, surveying the garage as amusement flickers across her face, “this place smells aggressively like gasoline and grease.”
Dennis grins. “You get used to it, pretty lady.”
An unpleasant pull twists low in my stomach at the easy flirting in his voice. I busy myself with the toolbox before the feeling shows on my face. Tilly lets out a squeak, and everyone’s attention shifts toward her.
“There she is,” Boone says, wiping his hands on a rag before walking over. His whole voice changes around the baby. “What’s up, tiny boss?”
Dennis also appears beside them. “She spit up on my shirt earlier, so you better be careful,” Peyton warns him.
“Not our little princess. Right, sweet Tilly?”
I shake my head, watching the whole interaction unfold. It’s kind of ridiculous how fast every single person in the room folds for Tilly. One cute sound out of her and a group of grown men turns into a full-time fan club. And honestly, it’s sweet. She’s barely been here any time at all, but she already has people wrapped around her finger.
“I come bearing lunch before you all start surviving entirely on frozen waffles and caffeine again,” Peyton says.
Dennis points accusingly toward me. “That’s mostly him.”
“Traitor.”
“You know it’s true, boss.”
Peyton smiles while setting the bags down beside Heather. “Finally someone who knows how to feed us right,” my receptionist says, taking one of the ice coffees.
“I’m feeling very attacked today,” I mutter.
While everybody crowds around the counter unpacking containers, I drift closer to Peyton. Up close, I catch her lavender scent. The calm is immediate, as if my brain recognizes it as safe before the rest of me can even process why.
“You survived the morning,” I half ask and half point out.
“So did you.” Her eyes flick toward Heather. “She texted me about the woman flirting with you earlier. Apparently, you were clueless at first.”
I groan. “Of course she did. You know, I didn’t give her your number so you two can gossip. It was only for emergencies.”
Peyton bites back a smile. “You better get used to us talking if I’m spending more time around your crew.”
The idea of Peyton becoming part of the crew shouldn't be as satisfying as it is. I can already picture her giving Boone as much shit as he gives everyone else, joining Heather for coffee breaks and convincing Dennis to stop making catastrophically bad dating decisions. I have no business liking that picture as much as I do. Peyton works for me. That alone should be enough to shut this whole train of thought down.
“You want the official tour?” I ask, choosing a safer topic, before nodding toward the rest of the garage.
“Show me your lair.”
