Page 19 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

I direct the boys toward the only part of the house that Poppy has deemed already perfect and therefore won’t be undergoing renovation: a cozy nook with custom window seats, arched windows, and built-in bookshelves.

“Please be good,” I tell them, ruffling their hair as they flop down onto the window seat cushions. “When we’re in somebody else’s house we have to be—”

“Respectful,” Cody finishes for me.

“And we don’t touch the power tools,” adds Eli.

“Or get too close to someone using a tool in general,” continues Cody.

“And we can’t run or jump around,” recites Eli.

“Or wrestle,” concludes Cody.

“Or?” I prompt them.

Eli sighs. “Or scream and shout.”

“Good boys. If you need to use the bathroom, there’s one down that hall, okay?”

They nod in unison.

Satisfied, I head back outside where Eric and the guys are waiting for me.

I glance at my watch. It’s almost nine. “Is Poppy not home?”

Eric shrugs. “She wasn’t here when we arrived about half an hour ago. She could be down on the beach.”

“Or shopping again,” adds Jay, smirking slightly.

I give him a firm look. I may have judged Poppy harshly from the moment I first laid eyes on her, but I won’t stand for my own crew making snide remarks out loud while we’re on her property.

“Do you know who her dad is?” Eric asks, lowering his voice despite us being the only people within hearing range. “JackMinton. The lead singer of Schism. You guys remember that band?”

Jay whistles low. “No wonder she looked familiar.”

“And no wonder she’s so rich,” adds Miguel.

“I think it’s best if we all mind our own business where our customer’s financialandfamilial status is concerned,” I cut in.

Jay and Miguel frown, but Eric simply chuckles.

“You can’t tell me you don’t think it’s cool, Joe. I mean, Jack Minton was a rock legend.”

“Of course it’s cool. But it’s also none of our business.”

Eric opens his mouth to retort, always more than willing to challenge me even this early on a Saturday morning, but I’m saved by the bell when the roar of a large truck echoes down the lane and our delivery crawls into view.

I breathe a sigh of relief as the conversation is immediately cut short. I’m also relieved that Poppy apparently isn’t home. I’d hate for her to overhear us discussing her like this. After our conversation a few days ago, I want nothing more than to help her protect her own privacy. It’s obvious that her father is a sensitive subject. I’m pretty sure that the only reason she opened up to me about him is because I told her that my dad passed away, too.

As work picks up, though, I push all those things aside and focus on what needs to be done. The last thing I want is to be distracted by thoughts of a beautiful, intriguing woman with shiny blonde hair and pretty blue eyes.

In recent years, I’ve confronted the reality that I’m ready to start a romance with someone new, especially since I think the boys could really benefit from a motherly presence in their lives. Flo offers some feminine influence, but it’s not quite enough. They need a healthy balance in order to grow up well.

Still, Poppy is most definitelynotsomeone I’d consider for that. She’s way too far out of my league, for starters.

And also, just because we’ve bonded once doesn't mean that we have anything else in common.

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