Page 37 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

And, anyway, I’m trying to start over.

Soon enough, Percy will get bored with this little town, and get bored with me in the process, and then he’ll go away on his own. At least, that’s what I’m hoping will happen.

“I’ll think about it,” I assure Aiden and Sabrina.

After dinner, once I’ve hugged both of them goodbye and thanked Sabrina for the thousandth time for such a delicious meal, I set out on foot toward my ramshackle cottage.

The evening is quiet, the salty air mixing with the scent of pine. It’s the sort of silence that simultaneously soothes and discomforts me. The silence that I never had as a child growing up on a tour bus. The silence that I never even realized I was missing in my life split between the massive cities of Los Angeles and London. It’s nice, yet unfamiliar. Eerie, but peaceful.

As I approach my cottage and step around the corner of the driveway, I notice immediately that something isn’t quite right.

The garage door is open, forming a gaping maw of shadows that even the automatic porch light can’t penetrate.

I creep forward, digging around in my purse for the self-dense tool on my keys. I slip my knuckles through it, aiming the spikes outward, and step onto the dewy grass to avoid the sound of my shoes crunching in the gravel.

The faintest movement comes from within the darkened garage, and I catch the flash of an iPhone’s bluish-white flashlight sweeping across the stacked cardboard boxes.

Am I being robbed?

In the back of my mind, I know I should probably turn around and run back to Aiden’s place. I should also definitely be calling 911, not moving closer with a hard plastic weapon clenched in my grip.

As I approach, I notice a half-shadowed figure shuffling closer to the driveway and into the fading light of the evening. I inhale sharply, prepared to scream, but the towering height and impressively broad shoulders are instantly unmistakable.

I exhale loudly, the tension dissipating from my body.

“Joe?” I call out.

He freezes, shining the light from his phone on me briefly, then muttering a quiet curse when I flinch at the glare in my eyes.

“Oh, hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. I know this looks weird, but I forgot some tools in here that I need for your custom cabinetry. I didn’t mean to barge in on you, and I tried to announce my presence when I arrived so I didn’t scare you, but you weren’t home.”

I glance around, wondering why I didn’t notice his truck. It takes me a second, but then I see that he’s parked on the road, rather than inside the driveway.

He’s totally lying to me. He had every intention of sneaking back in here, grabbing his tools, and disappearing again without a trace.

Can I really blame him, though?

I basically entrapped him into a ridiculous scheme, forced him to endure Percy’s snide commentary, and then spewed all that nonsense about how fake I think he is.

I take a step closer to him. “It’s okay,” I tell him, giving him a small smile that I’m not sure he sees in the fading light. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Right, of course. It’s late.” His eyes track my movement as I try to subtly slip my keychain back into my purse.

For a moment, we just stand there and let the silence stretch between us. Then, he clears his throat and shifts from one foot to the other.

“Look, Poppy,” he starts, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “About the other day… I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was judging you. Percy, and the way he treats you—it worries me. I wanted to help you because it felt like the right thing to do. I didn’t mean it when I said that you were good at being a liar. I just meant that I’m not the kind of guy who is skilled at hiding his true feelings.”

The words settle over me, softening something inside.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I whisper. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You know, for dragging you into this whole mess. You don’t deserve the stress. I know you’re just here to work, and I made things weird and complicated.”

Joe’s gaze meets mine, his eyes warm. “It’s okay, Poppy. Honestly, you’re not even the weirdest or most complicated client I’ve had. Not even close.”

That gets a laugh out of me, and I feel some of the tension between us fade.

“Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate to be the absolute worst.”

For a moment, we just look at each other, and in that silence, I feel a bond tightening between us. Not something romantic or sensual or anything like that. It’s the sort of invisible string that extends between two like-minded souls. Two people who, despite being polar opposites, share an unshakeable understanding.

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