by Whitley Cox
She was about to close the door when she heard a faint but very distinct moo from just beyond the hedge, followed by, “Goodnight, Just Eva.”
Laughing and smiling a smile that hurt her face, she shut the door and leaned back against it, her heart thundering, her pulse racing and her hope for the future seeming brighter than it had in a very long while.
6
Scott tossed on his sunglasses as he locked the door to his red Toyota Tacoma and headed toward his office building. Dynamic Creative Marketing and Advertising was located in downtown Seattle, not three blocks from Pike Place Market, with its fish-tossing mongers and kitschy shops. He could walk to all the best food trucks and restaurants for lunch, as well as his buddy Mason’s sports bar for an after-shift drink.
He’d been at Dynamic Creative for two months now and, so far, had loved every single minute of it. Even though he applied for the vacant COO position and was more than qualified for it, the man in charge of hiring—Remy Barker—didn’t think Scott was right for that position and offered him the senior marketing consultant position instead.
Scott hadn’t been pleased at first, since Remy was a good fifteen or so years younger than him and had clearly earned his position through nepotism, but Scott took the job anyway. Dynamic Creative was the leading advertising and marketing firm in the city—possibly the state—and he wanted his foot in the door no matter what.
So even though he wasn’t one of the top dogs running things, he was still in charge of a shitload. On day one, he was assigned his own team and given a snazzy corner office with a view of the Ferris wheel on the water. Not too shabby, but he’d have preferred the fancy letters behind his name too and the salary to go along with it.
He knew he had a bit of a strut when he entered the building, but so fucking what? He was happy. He had a sexy new neighbor, he’d rubbed one out that morning, and he was starting another great week at his awesome job.
What better way to start a Monday than that?
Tapping his fingers on Sondra’s desk as he entered the office, he smiled at the grandmotherly receptionist and asked her about her weekend.
“It was great, hon, thanks. And yours?”
He couldn’t keep the cocky grin from his face if he tried. “It was awesome, thanks.”
“Your nine o’clock appointment is waiting for you in your office, Mr. Dixon,” Sondra went on. “I grabbed him a coffee.” She handed Scott his messages.
Right! Mr. Fletcher, the whale of a client that Remy wanted Scott to land. Finally, Mr. Fletcher had agreed to take Scott’s call, and the two had spoken on the phone for only a brief five minutes, but those five minutes seemed to be enough, and the man agreed to come in and have a proper meeting with Scott. Hear his pitch and find out just what Scott and his team could really do for Fletcher Holdings.
And Fletcher Holdings held a lot. Nightclubs, strip clubs, lounges, vape shops, and a few casinos outside city limits. He seemed to have his hand in over a dozen pies, but the newest confection he’d gotten involved with was a distillery, and Dynamic Creative wanted a piece of that pie. They wanted to help Mr. Fletcher bring Fletcher Spirits to the masses.
Sondra wished him luck and handed him his mug of coffee—just like she did every morning—and he headed toward his office, whistling.
Yes, today was a day to whistle.
He was about to land this VIP client with the pitch of a lifetime, and hopefully before the week was over, Eva would be coming over for a cup of sugar—or more.
“Mr. Fletcher,” he started, stepping into his office, where a man in a dark suit with dark hair sat with his back to Scott. The man stood up and turned around. “I’m Scott Dixon. So nice to meet you. Thank you very much for coming in today.” He offered his hand.
“Please, call me Todd.” His smile encompassed his entire face, and his eyes became laser focused. He shook Scott’s hand, his grip firm, almost too firm, as if he were trying to establish some kind of dominance. It sent a frisson of unease racing to the base of Scott’s skull, but he chalked it up to the client simply trying to make sure Scott knew who was in charge. He braced himself for a bit of a pissing match. That always seemed to be the way when the whale was an alpha asshole who was used to bossing people around.
Well, so was Scott, and soon Mr. Todd Fletcher would realize just who was running this show. And it wasn’t him.
Todd’s smile was wily, almost too big to be real. “It was the least I could do after your quick phone pitch. I definitely want to hear more. Sounds like you and your team could make me a buttload of money.”
Scott chuckled as he released Todd’s hand and continued on into the office and around to his desk. “That’s the plan. Making you a buttload of money makes us a buttload of money, so we’re in for a win-win here.”
They both took their seats, smiling. Todd sipped his coffee and inclined his head toward the photo of Freddie that sat on the windowsill. “That your boy?”
Scott took a sip of his own coffee. “Sure is. Freddie. Hell of a kid.”
“Got two sons of my own, lights of my life.”
“Kids are great, aren’t they? Keep you feeling young. Until you wrestle with them, then the next morning as you struggle to get your ass out of bed and you feel twenty years older.”
Todd’s pale ice-blue eyes didn’t crinkle at the sides or sparkle, but he laughed. “So true.” He cleared his throat, his face turning serious, thick brows narrowing. “I’m a busy man, Scott, so let’s get down to brass tacks. What can you and your team do for Fletcher Holdings that no other marketing team can?”
Scott planted both hands on his chrome desk and grinned. “Well, Todd, I’m glad you asked.” Then he proceeded to wow the man with each and every one of his plans until Todd’s socks were so far knocked off, they were clear across the room.
“Ready to go, buddy?” Scott asked as he swung Freddie’s Ironman backpack over his shoulder and helped his son into his sweater. “Did you have a good day?”
Freddie nodded as he took Scott’s hand, and they headed out of the classroom where after-school care was held. He yawned wide, tilting his head back, which made his poker-straight strawberry-blond hair flop back. “Yeah, it was a good day, Dad, but I missed you.”
“I missed you too, pal.” They continued on out of the school and into the parking lot. “What did you and your mom get up to this weekend?”
Freddie’s mouth dipped into a small pout. “She was busy with work, so I spent a lot of time with Grandma and Grandpa.”
Irritation itched along Scott’s arms. Not that Scott begrudged his son spending time with his maternal grandparents, but what bothered him was how often Katrin used her parents as a babysitting service when she had Freddie. Whether she left for a work thing or to go out on a date, Freddie was with his grandparents a lot. And all Freddie said he ever did with his grandparents when they had him was watch the news while he helped his grandfather roll cigarettes.
The first time Scott heard that, he’d nearly blown a gasket. He drove right over to the Davids’ house and asked if they were smoking in the same space as his son. Both Dennis and Barb smoked like chimneys, so the house smelled like cigarettes—that was one thing—however, if they smoked around his son, Scott would make sure they never fucking saw him again.
Dennis and Barb swore up, down and sideways that they never smoked around Freddie, that Freddie just liked helping his grandfather roll his smokes. What else could he do besides put the fear of God into them and then make sure he and his son had an honest relationship and Freddie told him the truth about whether Dennis and Barb smoked around him? Oh, and bathe Freddie like he’d just wrestled a bunch of pigs after he came home smelling like an ashtray.
As he helped Freddie climb into the back seat of his truck, he bent down and sniffed his son’s hair and clothes.
Fuck, he stunk. He was going to have to not only scrub every square inch of his kid in the bath tonight but also wash all his clothes, including his backpack and coat. You’
d think his ex-wife would think to do that before she sent Freddie to school on Monday, but noooo. Not Katrin. How dare she consider anybody else—including her child—and how he might smell all day?
He made sure Freddie was all buckled in, double-checked the seat belt and then pecked his son on the forehead. “I really did miss you, bud. House feels so empty and quiet without you.”
Freddie grinned. “I missed you too, Dad. I’d rather just live with you all the days instead of spending some days with you and some days with Mom. We have more fun.”
This was always the narrative when he picked Freddie up on Mondays and then when he dropped Freddie off at school Monday morning the following week, before his week with his mother started. He often cried when Scott dropped him off, clinging to his leg. It damn near ripped Scott’s heart out each and every time.
The lawyers had advised him and Katrin to do a week on/week off custody arrangement, said it was easier on children with fewer transitions. And they had been right. When they divorced three years ago, Freddie got into the routine pretty quickly, and Scott’s week with his son was awesome. Only now, since Freddie started kindergarten in September, he was showing signs of not wanting to be away from Scott for a full seven days, and his reluctance to go with his mother was becoming more vocal.
Liam, his brother and lawyer, had advised him to keep the arrangement as it was for now, until Freddie was bit older and the transition of starting school wore off. Most likely, Freddie was simply having a tough time adjusting to school and after-school care, and his angst was coming out in a resistance to being with Katrin. At least that’s what Scott hoped was the case. He promised Liam he’d give Freddie a year to acclimatize to school, but if his kid was still resisting going to his mother’s by the following September, Scott was going to revisit the custody agreement and see about getting Freddie full-time. No way should his kid be miserable if he didn’t have to be.
“What’s for dinner, Dad? I’m starving,” Freddie asked as Scott climbed in behind the steering wheel of his truck and turned on the engine.
“How does homemade mac and cheese sound with cut-up veggies on the side?” Freddie wasn’t the most adventurous eater, but he also wasn’t as picky as some kids. Like Scott, the kid enjoyed comfort food—meatloaf and mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, tomato soup and grilled cheese, beef stew, spaghetti. All the things that filled you up and made your mouth happy.
“Sounds good. With ranch dip for the veggies?” Freddie asked on another yawn.
“You know it, pal.”
It was only a short drive from the school to Scott’s house, and they were there in no time. Freddie hit the button to roll down his window. “Hey, looks like we have new neighbors.”
Scott’s head swung from the road to Eva’s house, where sure enough, she and two little boys were hauling boxes from the back of her minivan to the front door. She looked like fucking perfection in brick-colored yoga pants, a dark gray hoodie and long red ponytail. Was there anything she didn’t look like dynamite in?
“We do,” he said, rolling his tongue back into his mouth. “I met the mom, and she seems very nice. Her sons are five and seven.”
“That’s older and younger than me,” Freddie said with excitement. “Can we go over and meet them? Can we?” He was bouncing up and down in his booster seat, his tangible fatigue from a moment ago seeming to have vanished. “Maybe they can come over for dinner?”
“I don’t know, buddy. They’re probably still busy moving in.” Scott turned in to his driveaway and parked the truck. Freddie was out of his seat belt and opening the door before Scott even made it out of his own door.
“I’m going to say hi,” Freddie said, leaping to the pavement and booking it down the driveaway and around the hedge. Thankfully there was about a six-foot span of grass between the hedge and the sidewalk, and then there was a bike lane between the sidewalk and the actual road, so Scott wasn’t too worried about his kid getting hit by a car.
He was, however, worried about his kid just barging into somebody’s house and making himself at home. Freddie was a very friendly kid by nature and had no qualms inviting himself somewhere if it was where he wanted to be.
“Freddie!” Scott called after his son, exhaling deep through his nose as he followed the path his son had taken down the driveaway and around the hedge.
He heard his son’s chipper voice before he saw her face, a mask of amusement making her all the more beautiful. “Hi, I’m Freddie. A really old man used to live in this house before you. But don’t worry, he didn’t die in there. He just went to an old forks home.”
Eva snorted before she smiled. “Well, it’s so nice to meet you, Freddie. This is Kellen”—she rested her hand on the younger little boy’s shoulder—“and this is Lucas.”
All the boys waved at each other.
Her green eyes flicked up to Scott’s, her grin as gorgeous as ever. “Good to know that nobody died in our house.”
Scott shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m surprised you hadn’t already been filled in about the previous owner from half the block. Are they leaving you alone?”
She scoffed. “Oh heck no. I had six women on my doorstep with cookies and gossip when I drove into the driveway after dropping the kids off at school. Then another three flitted in over the day as I was unpacking. I know everything about everyone now.”
He bet she did. The whole street was already probably talking about Scott hanging out at Eva’s last night. Old Ruthie across the street was a night owl and kept her drapes open twenty-four seven. She saw everything that happened around her and didn’t go to sleep until well past midnight. As she was watching television, she probably saw Scott sneak back to his place.
Yeah, they were most likely the talk of the neighborhood now.
“You guys want to come over for dinner?” Freddie asked, eyeing the soccer ball under Lucas’s arm. “We can play soccer in my backyard while my dad makes dinner. We’re having mac and cheese.” He glanced up at his dad but then back at the other little boys. “With three cheeses.” He held his fingers up to show three. “Not just one. But three. Cheddar, havarti and … ” He scrunched up his nose in thought. “Dad, what’s the other cheese?”
“Gouda, buddy.”
Freddie nodded. “Right, gouda. It’s gourmet.”
Eva and Scott both hid their smiles by glancing away.
“Can we, Mom?” Kellen asked first. “I loooove mac and cheese. And you said that we were just going to have tuna on toast for dinner because you spent the whole day unpacking and haven’t been shopping. Mac and cheese with three cheeses sounds way better.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t looking forward to tuna on toast,” Lucas added. “I’d eat it, but I wasn’t excited about it.”
Heat blossomed in her cheeks as she lovingly gazed down at her children. “Guys, I promise to get some groceries tomorrow. Today just got away from me, what with all the unexpected guests. But we can’t invite ourselves over for dinner … ”
“You’re not,” Freddie cut in. “I invited you.” He glanced back up at Scott. “Right, Dad? They can come. You always make so much anyway.”
Well, it was no cup of sugar, but it was something. With a grin he knew would make her flush even redder, he rested his hand on his son’s shoulder and fixed Eva with a smoldering look. “We’d love to have the new neighbors over for dinner. Welcome you to the neighborhood properly.”
And oh, fuck, did he ever get what he wanted. Her complexion pinked up so nicely, and her lashes fluttered as she fought to hide her smile. Her sexy throat bobbed on a swallow before she lifted her gaze to his. “Well, thank you. We’d love to join you for dinner.”
All three little boys cheered, disengaging themselves from their parents’ grasps.
“Great!” Freddie cheered. “Come on. I’ll show you my backyard. We have a soccer net. I can be goalie first if you guys want to take shots on me.”
Kellen and Lucas nodded and took off a
fter a running Freddie, down their driveway and around the hedge, the sound of their shoes slapping the concrete with each heavy step echoing from Scott’s yard.
Then there they stood, in Eva’s driveway, staring at each other.
“I’m, uh … I’m just going to finish putting these boxes inside, and then I’ll … ” She nibbled on her lip.
“Come over for dinner?” he said, finishing her sentence for her.
A lopsided smile curved her lips as she bent down to pick up a box that Kellen had left. “Yes. I’ll come over to your house for dinner.”
Fuck, he loved it when she got all flustered. “Great! Then I’ll head home and get going on dinner. Just let yourself in when you’ve finished over here.”
All she could do was nod, which only made him smile even wider.
He turned to go but then spun back around. “Oh, and Eva, just because it’s meat-free Monday doesn’t mean we’ve gone vegan.” Then he mooed like he had last night and continued on up her driveway, wanting desperately to turn around and see her reaction but knowing that it probably made a better statement not to.
Damn, he forgot how much he liked the chase. Liked the flirting and wooing. How much it turned him on to win a woman over with his charm and his wit. He’d been out of the game for so long, he forgot how much he enjoyed it. And the way Eva reacted to him made it all the better. So responsive, so beautiful, and he was only just getting started.
7
Eva blinked half a dozen times and shook herself both physically and mentally as she stood in Scott’s kitchen and cut up cucumbers and bell peppers on his bamboo cutting board. It was surreal. Completely and utterly surreal.