Page 95 of Clean Sweep
“The mother of the groom,” he murmured, “should get to dance at her son’s wedding.”
“Landon is a terrible dancer.”
“Then let me sweep you off your feet.”
“Is this the romantic date you dreamed up?” I asked, casting a wry glance at the empty sheet cake tray on the other side of the room, a demolished wedding cake stand that once held a 5-tiered beauty made of marbled pink roses from JJ’s bakery. All sugar had disappeared from the Frolicking Moose, and I could attribute 75% of the responsibility to my three youngest offspring.
At least they wouldn’t burn that energy off at my house tonight.
“No.” Tanner scoffed. “Our first date is happening tonight after all of this. See?” He nodded toward the front of the shop, where brown paper bags sat on the ground near the door. “I’ve already been to the grocery store for everything we’ll need.”
“Oooh? So efficient.”
He winked. “I had sufficient motivation.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Good.” He frowned at the door, where wind blasted by. “We should get going. Celeste will be safe with Max and Nicholas . . . right?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” I murmured as I slipped into my coat, “but I will say that my old-soul son Blake is the best driver I’ve ever met, and he’s down-to-earth, just like me. So she’s safe with Blake and Nicholas will temper Max.”
He paused. “I meant in general.”
“Oh. Um, yes.”
Only slightly mollified, he took my hand and we stepped outside.
After I locked the Frolicking Moose behind me, Tanner wrapped an arm around my shoulders and we plunged into the storm together. Sort of like I left my old life behind me.
Now, it was time to walk into something better.
22
TANNER
Leslie stared at me in utter disbelief later that night.
“You’re kidding. You want me to do what?”
The wedding had roughed her up a bit. Mascara gathered under her eyes, which looked drawn from a long day, and her stomach growled. I didn’t recall seeing her eat anything all day. Now, her home felt frigid cold because I didn’t have the forethought to come back early to start a fire.
Outside, the blizzard whitened into a literal frenzy.
I pointed past the kitchen and to her room, as serious as I had ever been. “Go get into the pair of much-too-big sweats that I saw on the floor the other day. Then some other shirt that’s really comfortable. Then come out here. The date will be ready.”
She eyed me, clearly at a loss, but was too tired to fight. Something I’d also banked on.
With a sigh she muttered, “Fine. But how anything can be the height of romance in those nasty old sweats, I’ll never figure out.”
I grinned and headed for the brown paper bags.
“Trust and faith,” I called. “Trust and faith.”
Her door shut on another muttering, and I chuckled to myself. Ten minutes later, I emerged from the guest bathroom wearing my most comfortable workout pants and my favorite ratty old shirt.
Leslie stepped into the kitchen and I burst out laughing.
“Well?”
