Page 33 of Catching Feels

“Nope, not interested. One love is it for me.”

Oh my God, he thinks I’m trying to set him up. That has got to be the cutest thing in the world. “Our grandmother’s name was Etta. I’m sure that’s not the only reason he frequents here, but I bet it’s what drew him in.”

“Probably not. Just put her name back up,” he says, walking back over to us with two giant milk bones. “Took it down when she left me.”

Left me.

“Hoping she won’t be as pissed I let it go if I put her name back up.”

“You selling it or?—”

“Nope. Place needs too much damn work. Isn’t worth the hassle.”

I look around. “It doesn’t need anything more than a little organization and maybe a coat of paint.”

“I don’t have it in me after Mother’s Day, and the kids all moved West. When the tenants upstairs move out, I’ll let it go to auction.” He looks around then back at me. “Now, what can I get you?”

“Some lavender and”—I look around—“jasmine if you have any.”

“Not sure. Lena will be in soon. If you can get her to stop talking to the flowers, she might know where it’s at.”

Twenty minutes later, I walk out of Etta’s with an arm full of lavender and jasmine that I found myself and an IOU because they don’t take credit cards or anything other than cash and checks. Lena, a woman in her early seventies, did come in, and Burt was right; she totally ignored everyone except the flowers.

When we return back to the house, I am elated to find the boys are gone so I can take a shower and make something to eat. I also decide to start documenting my personal research project.

Ellie and I head to the RV to grab my bag and drop off half the flowers, bringing the rest to put on CeCe’s island so when she comes back, she can enjoy the calm, too.

After putting the flowers in a vase, I grab a cup out of the cabinet to pour some much-needed coffee into and notice a note on the counter.

Ellie has already eaten.

Please ensure she’s in her crate if you leave her.

She tends to find herself in trouble otherwise.

NU

I glance down at her. “Are you a troublemaker?”

Her little bottom shakes.

“Of course not. Boys are stupid.”

Coffee in one hand, the strap of my bag still draped across my shoulder, I grab one of Ellie’s toys, and then we head toward the downstairs bedroom to take a shower.

I shut the bedroom door behind us and look around to make sure there’s nothing in here that she could possibly get into before heading into the bathroom, determined to wash the feel of his hands off me.

While undressing, I catch a glimpse of my ass in the mirror and gasp at the size of the bruise. “You have got to be kidding me.”

After a long, hot shower, I stand in the bathroom, brushing my hair, enjoying the ability to stand here naked, airdrying. I didn’t grow up in a houseful of prudes, but I did grow up in a house that was always full.

I wasn’t looking forward to being a way from my family, but I was excited about having a place of my own. It feels wrong to be bent out of shape about my rain delay.

I am so lucky to have a mother who never wanted for anything but for her kids to feel loved and be happy. Mom got pregnant at seventeen, had Rome before she was eighteen, had Hudson two years later, and me two years after that. She’s lived more than half her life working to raise us and has never asked for a thing.

I hurry out of the room to grab my phone and shoot her a text.

Me:

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