Page 12 of Fifty-Fifty

I find myself smilin’ as I watch their interaction, but shrug when our gazes connect.

“A little help here?” he pleads. He looks absolutely clueless about how he should handle Mac, and I don’t blame him. She’s a mess, but at least she’s a cute one.

“Come on, Mac. We best get goin’. We’ll be seein’ Noah later, right?” I turn my attention to him, waitin’ for a confirmation.

“Yeah. Do you want a ride?”

I shake my head before he can finish offerin’. “Nah. We’ll walk.”

“You sure?”

I smile at the concern in his voice. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinkin’?

He showed me a softer side when dealin’ with Mac, and my hardened heart seems to have softened a bit in return.

“Yeah. No carseat and all.” I dip my chin to the toddler at the table before standin’ and reachin’ for her. Thankfully, Mac doesn’t put up a fight and lets me pick her up.

He nods his head in understanding. “All right then. Thanks for letting me stay at the inn.”

“I wouldn’t be a very good business owner if I turned away a customer, now would I?”

He smiles softly. “Apparently not. I’ll see you in a few.”

Awkwardly, I wave goodbye then head to the counter. I thank Harold and Betty for watchin’ Mac, then grab her jacket and beanie from behind the counter. Gettin’ her all bundled up, we head back to the inn. And the whole way home, I wonder what the hell I was thinkin’, lettin’ a stranger, who I refuse to admit is sexy as hell, stay with me when I know he’s nothin’ but trouble.

Chapter Six

Noah

How do I already feel guilty? I talked with her for ten minutes. Hung out with her kid for five.

I didn’t do anything wrong, yet I feel like I’m about to get struck by lightning at any second.

Maybe it’s my dad’s Southern roots finally making an appearance, threatening fire and brimstone just because I want to get on a girl’s good side for my own personal gain.

To be fair, I think it’d be beneficial for her, too. There’s no way she can live on so little every month.

Unless she cut necessities like owning a car.

I roll my eyes at the thought. The poor girl is living in poverty, dragging her daughter into it, too, just because she’s too stubborn to see that the inn is a lost cause.

In a way, I’m doing a service for her by convincing her to sell the place.

Yeah. That’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

I stay at the diner for another hour, sketching a few designs in my journal for a handful of appointments to send to Shane. It’s the least I can do since he’s covering my ass.

Afterward, I hop into my truck and drive back to the inn.

Grabbing my duffle bag from the passenger seat, I head inside. The walkway looks freshly swept, but the grass could use another trim before winter hits and the leaves could be raked again, too.

See? This place is too much for her to handle. I’d be doing her a favor by convincing her to sell it. The question is, how the hell am I going to do that?

I run my fingers through my dark hair before rapping my knuckles against the front door.

Tap, tap, tap.

Then I wait.

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