Page 12 of Single All the Way

“I’ll call the school today and sign up Xavier for morning bus.”

“Afternoons too,” Ben said.

“He comes to the salon with me.”

“He can come here. Grandma Berty stays with Ruby and Evelyn. She loves kids.”

I shook my head. “No. No way am I taking advantage of your generosity in yet another way.”

“She’s here every day. She’s good with them.”

“I’m sure she is, but I’m not going to throw two more kids at her.”

“I need to get my two out the door and to the bus, then get ready for work.”

He went to the stairs and hollered up at his kids to get moving, and I went back to the table with Skyler and finally sat down to eat.

As Skyler tore into her eggs, Ben turned toward me and said, “We’ll discuss childcare later.”

With a bite of cold eggs in my mouth, I shook my head. As soon as I swallowed the bite, I said, “Waste of time. You’re already doing too much for me.”

Ben came up to the edge of the table on the opposite side, leaned his hands on it, looked me in the eye, and said, “For the next six weeks or however long you’re here, Emerson, we’re in this together. We help each other.”

His eyes were intense as he stared into mine. It got to me. The thought of having someone at my side, a partner in all the chaos, had as much allure as a restorative, full-service spa getaway. In that moment, I couldn’t help noticing how good-looking Ben was with his empathetic, handsome eyes and his just-right beard on an angled, masculine jaw.

I shook my head at myself, because that was a random and pointless thought. As tempting as it was to lean on someone, I couldn’t let myself. The kids and I would be moving on soon enough, and then I’d have to readjust to handling everything on my own. It’d be better to never let myself get used to it in the first place.

Peering back at him, I said, “Your kids are going to be late for the bus.”

He swore silently, straightened, and bellowed out to his kids just as they thundered down the stairs. I counted it as a win for me, even if only temporary.

ChapterFour

Ben

“What the heck did you do?” I asked as I walked into exam room one for my first appointment of the day.

My buddy Max Dawson was crouched in front of the two chairs where most of my human clients sat, trying to urge someone out.

“Come on, Mahomes,” he said to whatever was under the chairs. Felines, according to my tech Kat’s notes.

As he reached farther under to grab Mahomes, a fluffy gray kitten wandered out from the other side of the cabinet and looked up at me.

“Who is this?” I bent down and held out my hand, wiggling my fingers.

“That,” Max said as he stood up holding a orange kitten about the same size, “is Monet.”

The little beast looked at my fingers half-cross-eyed and couldn’t resist pouncing toward them. When he got close enough, I scooped him up.

“Aren’t you a cute one?” I held the critter at eye level in one hand.

He looked to be about ten to twelve weeks old and had curious eyes that didn’t miss anything—and razor-sharp claws that could put holes in a guy.

“Mahomes and Monet. I get the football connection, but French Impressionism?” I asked.

“Harper named that one. She likes the way it sounds with Mahomes, plus art representation.”

“You don’t have to work today?”

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