The boy reached for Jake’s suitcase. “Did Teresa tell you what room you’re staying in?”
Jake sneaked a peek at Teresa who had raised her eyebrow. “While I appreciate the professional tone, Logan, this bellhop calls me Mom from now on, got it?”
The boy’s ears turned pink. “Right. Sorry.”
Jake bit back a laugh. “Your mom said I’m in the American Buffalo room. I’m not sure if that’s a commentary on my personality or if it’s just the only one available.”
Logan grinned. “Oh, Mom likes to put guests in rooms that remind her of them. She probably thinks you’re a wild animal.”
Jake stole a glance at Teresa. She avoided his gaze, but her cheeks turned pink.
Oh, he could get along with this kid. This kid was all right. If anything was to change his mind on his confirmed bachelor state, it was more likely going to be this boy than his sister’s goading. He could be proud to have a kid like this.
Though the suitcase was two-thirds the size of the boy, Logan maneuvered it to the staircase and lugged it up the stairs.
Jake mentally reviewed the contents of his wallet. Did he still have a few dollars he could use to tip the eager assistant? He hoped so.
He caught Teresa’s eyes on him. He couldn’t read her expression. There was a bit of pride in her son, but there seemed to be something else. Concern, maybe? Worry that he would do something to ruin the boy’s attempt at independence?
“Are you going to the Harvest Blessings festival?”
Jake turned his attention from Teresa to her son. His face was turning red with the exertion required to get the suitcase up the stairs.
Jake was torn between two instincts: to take his own suitcase up the stairs and to allow the boy a chance to express how grownup he was.
Teresa nudged him with her elbow. He turned a startled expression to her, and she gestured at the boy with her head.
Right. He’d asked a question.
“The Harvest Blessings festival? What’s that?”
The boy reached the top of the stairs and leaned against the suitcase. “Only the best Blessings tradition ever! A ferris wheel. Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies as big as your face. Hayrides. Kettle corn. Cotton candy.”
How did that sound less annoying when it came out of the mouth of a seven-year-old than when it was seen through the eyes of a thirty-something-year-old man? “Sounds fun.”
“You should come with me and Mom tonight.”
Jake hesitated. Was it just him or was this kid as bad as his sister? He took another glance at Teresa. Aside from the fact that they’d gotten off on the wrong foot out in the parking lot, it wasn’t the worst idea for her to be his date to the Harvest Ball.
He shook himself. What was that his sister said? That he imagined danger at every turn?
Teresa had a kid. She probably had a husband locked away somewhere in this large farmhouse. There was no reason for him to set his sights on the first woman he’d seen since his sister’s Harvest Ball addendum.
“Logan, Mr. Littlefield may have other plans for the evening.”
Logan’s shoulders drooped though the boy tried to hide his marked disappointment through a mask of stoicism.
Jake cleared his throat. “Actually, I don’t—I don’t have any plans. I’d love to go.”
Teresa’s eyebrow twitched. “You would?”
For the first time in almost twenty years, he felt like he was a middle-schooler who was bumbling through his first forays into dating and romance. “If—if it’s okay with you, I mean.”
Teresa’s cheeks flushed a deeper red. Was the heat coming off his face indicative of his own embarrassment?
He caught a glimpse of the hopeful look in Logan’s eyes.
Oh, the kid was definitely playing matchmaker.
Teresa looked away as she shrugged her shoulders. A surprisingly coy look for a woman as fierce as the innkeeper who had tried to make him park elsewhere to attend the festival. “I guess we can show you around town.”
Jake cleared his throat as he tried to get a handle on his racing nerves. “I’d appreciate it, but if you need to meet your husband for a family night out, you can give me a map...”
“She doesn’t have a husband.”
Jake glanced from Logan’s bright eyes to Teresa’s. “No husband?”
Her lips tightened as she shook her head. “No husband.”
Something about the way she said that told him not to ask any other questions. Fortunately, that suited his purposes well. After the Harvest Ball, it wouldn’t matter if he interacted with the innkeeper for the rest of his stay. No need to scratch any deeper than the surface.
Gone was the fourteen-year-old, back was the flirtatious sky god. He grinned and rubbed his hands. “So, when do the festivities start?”
Acknowledgements
I’m so thrilled to be a part of this project, and I have to thank my fantastic fellow Blessings of Love authors for inviting me to contribute!
I also want to thank, as always, my wonderful wife Cathey, without whom none of this would be possible!
And of course you, the reader, because you’re why I keep doing this whole writing thing!
Twice Blessed Page 8