She cocked her head and narrowed eyes at my admission, and I quickly tried to correct myself.
“What you have on; it’s perfect.”
She pressed her lips together, as if to keep from smiling, I suspected at how awkward I was behaving.
“Good.”
I touched the paint on the hem of her t-shirt and let my fingers linger on her hip.
“I’m guessing this is what you wore when you painted Jake’s room.”
She seemed as affected as me by the contact because I noticed her chest rise and fall.
“Yeah. Troy and I were supposed to buy a farm house in Maine so we could spend our summers in the country. But since that’s obviously not going to happen anytime soon, I thought I’d bring the farm to Jake.”
She hadn’t pulled away from me, so I rubbed the fabric of her shirt between my index finger and thumb, itching to slide my hand underneath and touch her soft skin.
“You’re a good mom.”
“How do you know? You were only around us for a few minutes.”
“Long enough to notice how much you obviously love your son. And I don’t think a bad mom would go to the trouble of redecorating her child’s bedroom so it felt like he was at a farm.”
“Laura and my sister helped.”
I wondered if her fucking ex had done anything.
Even though Becky and I weren’t on the best terms, I was still always available to help with any projects she was workingon—especially if they directly benefited Britt or Brayden. My level of assistance usually depended on if my ex was between boyfriends or not. Fortunately, the latest one seemed handy and eager to please.
Dang, that sounded familiar.
But I wasn’t Gretchen’s boyfriend.
Something I needed to remind myself about.
I reluctantly released her t-shirt and cleared my throat as I took a step back.
“Let’s eat while the pizza’s still hot.”
But fuck, did her ass look good in those yoga pants.
****
Gretchen
I pulled paper plates from a box I’d set up in the dining room while Gabe opened the pizza boxes sitting on the island.
He gestured to the two large pies—one with just pepperoni and the other loaded with toppings.
“Dig in.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for your brother?”
“Hell no. And he wouldn’t want us to. He’s probably bullshitting with one of his customers and lost track of time.”
“What does he do?”
“He owns Mitchell Automotives. It was my dad’s shop before he and Mav bought him out.”
