Page 17 of Me and Mr. Just Right

Oh geesh.

Hopefully, no one noticed. Jules—who, of course, seemed to notice everything—watched Lia and Haydn carefully.

“At least let me wash the dishes,” she said, “since you cooked for me.”

The men didn’t put up too much of an argument, though Haydn stayed beside her to dry the dishes after she washed them.

It was quiet without the chatter of the other brothers, who were both reading in their chairs in the living room. Jules read a huge brick of a book—historical, from the looks of it. And Bennett was nearing the end of a romantic comedy Lia would have loved to curl up with.

Lia and Haydn stood side by side at the sink, their feet bare. It felt surprisingly intimate—so domestic. So … normal. He was about six inches taller than her, and his arm or hand would occasionally brush hers as she passed him another plate or bowl to dry. Did she sometimes slip her hand close so her soapy fingers accidentally brushed his dry ones? She’d never admit it, even under Jules’s interrogation. Was she just craving kindness and touch—or was there something about Haydn specifically that felt grounding?

“I’m ruining you boys’ week,” Lia said, guilt pricking at her. If it was just as easy as finding a new deserted island to stay at, she’d leave, but she’d been lucky enough to find this one—which wasn’t as deserted as she’d hoped. “It’s a lot to get into, but if the rain lets up, I can’t go home right now. Not yet.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He took a clean plate from her and ran a blue-checkered towel over it. “I’m a good listener.”

She did want to talk about it, but then what? She didn’t actually know Haydn or his brothers. Didn’t actually know if any of them could be trusted. More than anything, she wanted to forget any of it had ever happened. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“I’m pretty boring.”

“I have it on good authority that you’re a big deal.”

Haydn coughed out a laugh that made both of his brothers look up at him—Bennett with a curious smile and Jules with a suspicious brow furrow—before turning back to their books. “I have three fans—Jules, Bennett, and an old man who lives off the grid in the outskirts of Delta Junction. I bring him copies of my magazine and a homemade pie every time I come through town.”

“You make pie?” she asked, surprised, because based on their earlier conversation, it seemed like he couldn’t cook his way out of a bag of microwaved popcorn.

“No, but I am an expert pie buyer. One of the best, really.”

“That is an undervalued skill in this world.”

“Right?”

“What about Rosie? She’s not one of your biggest fans?”

He shook his head. “Tragically, I’m the opposite of a big deal to her.”

“Little sisters are the worst.” She shook her head and laughed.

“Do you have a little sister?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s thirteen, and an expert eye roller. If I come up, she’ll claim she’s never heard of me.” She clamped her lips shut. What was she thinking, letting that slip?

“Baby siblings, keeping us humble.” He laughed. “Don’t they know we have, like, three fans?”

“At least,” she said. “There’s a lady who owns a food truck by my house I always give a one-hundred-percent tip to, and she’s a fan of me as well.”

He whistled. “I waited tables in college. I’d be a fan of you too.”

“I’ll add you to my list.” She pretended to write his name down. “But in all seriousness, I’m sorry this happened.” She held her hands out to indicate the house.

“It’s not your fault.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “It’s mostly Rosie’s.”

“You guys had no idea she’s been using your house as a vacation rental?”

“Nope, but you’ll notice that none of us are shocked. It’s a very Rosie thing to do.”

“You seem like good brothers.” Even Jules, with his gruff exterior, clearly loved Rose. What would it be like to have a team of people on her side not motivated by money or fame? She’d lost two of the closest people to her in one fell swoop, and her family wasn’t close like this. “Rose is lucky to have you.”

Haydn’s mouth slid into a determined line. “Exactly. And I’ll always be here for her.”

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