Page 53 of A Package Deal

“Oh, careful! I’m all sweaty.”

His chuckle was a deep rumble. “Just how I like you.”

I jammed my finger into his ribs but he just yelped and squeezed tighter.

“We’re going to the Blueball Summer Crawl tonight, remember? Anton is getting dressed now. I’ll go pick up Georgia so you have time to shower and change.”

I disentangled from his arms. I’d completely forgotten about the carnival. “Okay, but I have to meet with the inspector first. Then I’ll get ready.”

Warrick eyed me with a knowing grin.

“What?”

“I was walking by earlier to check in on the progress. Heard what you told Pip.”

A thousand inane conversations ran through my brain. “Uh, what part?”

“The one where you told Pip that you trusted me with the Cayden bullshit.” He ran his hand down my arm and then interlaced our fingers, toying with the plain gold band on my finger. “Means a lot you’re finally trusting me. And to answer your question, yes, the lawyer called me about the court date. He’s ready, but he’s also firing off an offer to drop the whole thing before it gets to that point.”

I tilted my head, fingers clamping down on his with worry. “What do you mean?”

Warrick was staring at my forehead. “I, uh, have some things up my sleeve to flush out his real reason for all of this.”

“Warrick…” I warned. “Do not do anything stupid. I have four brothers for that.”

He grinned and let go of my hand. “I know, but it’s time they let me take a swing at that guy. They got their turn already.” Then he winked and sauntered off, calling over his shoulder, “Wear something pretty tonight!”

I put my hands on my tool belt and glared at him. “I only have one dress.”

He didn’t stop as he turned the corner and disappeared. “Not anymore!”

I shook my head, wondering what that man was up to now. I could barely keep up with my business and a five-year-old. I couldn’t babysit a grown man.

Plus I was starting to like his surprises.

Pip and Savannah helped me clean up as much as we could. They left right as the inspector pulled up. He was a gruff older man who didn’t say much. My nerves were shot and I followed him around like a puppy dog. He didn’t miss a damn thing, that was for sure. He finally took a pen to the paper on his clipboard with a flourish and then tapped the page.

“All good, Ms. Slaywright. Nice work.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Thank you so much.”

He left, whistling under his breath, and I sagged against the wall. I closed my eyes and allowed myself just a few seconds to feel proud of myself. To bask in the glow of a job well done. And to get a teensy bit excited about that ten thousand extra dollars.

Warrick popped his head around the corner and rapped his knuckles against the wall. “Shower, woman.” He winked at me. “I knew you’d get it done.” And then he disappeared again, not sticking around to see the smile that spread across my face. At his praise. And his belief in me.

Single moms know how to shower in record time, so I put my mom skills to the test and washed my hair, shaved half my body, and rinsed off soap in under five minutes. Thankfully my hair air dried to its naturally straight appearance, and given the heat index out there, it would dry fully before we got to the carnival. That left getting dressed.

I threw open the closet in the guest room, expecting to find the boxes of sewing material that had been in there when we moved in. Except the boxes were gone and clothes hung from the rack. Clothes with tags on them. Clothes that weren’t one hundred percent cotton and easily washed and dried or tossed out if Georgia got a particularly bad stain on one. I ran my hand over a bright yellow blouse. Shit, it felt like silk. I’d never owned silk. My calluses alone would snag on the smooth material and ruin it.

I pushed that shirt aside to see the rest, coming to a section of all sundresses in a variety of colors. I picked one in a bright blue, pulling it off the hanger and testing the material. It was gorgeous with little white flowers all over it, an empire waist, and a flirty skirt that hit a few inches above my knees. Grabbing the tag still stuck to the side, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Paying well over three digits for a simple sundress was asinine. I rubbed the material between my thumb and finger. It was so soft though.

“Ugh!” I twirled around.

I laid it carefully on my bed and slipped into one of the bras and underwear that had appeared in my dresser last week, eyeing the dress. It was so gorgeous and it was in my favorite color. The feminine part of me that hadn’t cared about my appearance in years reared its head, wanting to see Warrick’s face when I came out wearing that dress. With a quick movement, I yanked off the price tag and threw it in the closet. Maybe if I didn’t see it, I could forget that astronomical number. Sliding the dress over my head, I smoothed it into place and turned to look in the mirror over the dresser.

“Holy crap,” I whispered to my reflection. I swallowed hard and tilted this way and that. I didn’t look like a contractor. Or a frazzled mom. I looked like the old me, before Cayden and Georgia. But also more mature. I looked like a gorgeous woman about to go on a date with her fake husband who was quickly becoming someone she couldn’t live without.

“You ready, Em?” I heard Warrick call from down the hall.

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