Page 40 of Pin-up Girl

“Of course not. His parents moved years ago, but when he got divorced he came back. Bought a new place.”

Houses didn’t come up for sale here very often. “That was good timing. Or did he have to wait for one to go on the market?”

She shook her head. “It helps to keep in touch with people who live here. There’s always someone coming or going, regardless of whether or not they announce it to the world.”

“The coming part’s my favorite,” I teased.

Her laugh was light, and even sexier in person than over a headset.

I parked in front of the house, and we strolled up the walk. Aubrey knocked.

When Clint answered, he glanced at her sweatshirt—my sweatshirt—and pursed his lips. “Come on in.” His tone was friendly as he stepped aside.

“Bree!” Someone shouted, and a girl who was maybe ten, and looked very much like Clint, half-tackled Aubrey with a hug.

Aubrey grinned and returned the squeeze. “Hey.”

The interaction was simple, but adorable.

The girl looked at me as she broke free of the hug. “Who are you?”

“I’m Brodie. Who are you?”

“Oh. You’re the fiancé. I’m Addison, but everyone calls me Dee.” She extended her hand.

I shook it, while she studied me.

“Hang on.” She scrunched her face. “Aubrey. Brodie. Clint.” She pointed at each of us as she said our names. “You’re the ABCs.” She sang the opening lines of a familiar but old song, and danced to her own tune.

Natural born performer. Definitely Clint’s kid. “How do you know who the Jackson Five are?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes and turned away. “Puh-lease. I’ve been dancing to that since I was a kid.”

I held back any comments about her still being a kid. Aubrey looked like she was fighting a smirk behind Dee’s back.

The expression blinked to neutral when Dee faced her. “Bree, tell Daddy I’m fine. He’s freaking out about nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Clint stepped behind me to close the door. “Hazel said you were dizzy and almost passed out.”

Dee blew out a noisy breath. “It’s just cuz I ate too much candy.”

“The perfect solution to that is to eat something not sweet instead,” Clint said. “What should we make for dinner?”

“Do we have lettuce? Broccoli?” Dee walked past all of us and into the kitchen.

Clint followed with a frown, and Aubrey and I trailed behind.

What kind of kid asked for vegetables for dinner?

“We could make popcorn.” The way Aubrey moved through the room, it was clear she was comfortable here. She opened a cupboard above the microwave and reached for a plastic-wrapped package.

Dee shook her head with enough vigor that her hair spread out in a halo. “Too fattening.”

Clint’s frown deepened. “We have Hot Pockets in the freezer.”

“No Celery?” The fridge door muffled Dee’s voice as she looked inside.

I was about to overstep, but the tension in here gnawed at me and I wanted it to stop. “We’ll order pizza.”

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