Page 16 of The One I Want
“Back on the subject,” he says. “I know Magnolia probably gave you the sad eyes that are nearly impossible to say no to. But don’t feel like you have to say yes. I can understand if a twenty-six—”
I laugh. “Twenty-nine, but I appreciate that.”
This gets me a small smile. “I can understand if a twenty-nine-year-old single woman doesn’t want to play catch with kids she barely knows.”
“And I said…” I pause for dramatic effect. “What if I want to?”
This throws him. “You want to?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” I shake my head, giving him a smile to lighten the mood.
“I was just sitting on my porch. They looked like they were having fun. And they didn’t make fun of me for how I threw a ball, which, Hank was right, was not good. Then I talked to Emerson and had more of an adult conversation than I have with most adults. I got some exercise and might have found a new life coach. It was a great night.”
Wes doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me like I have a second head. At least, that’s what I’d guess because confusion is written all over his face.
“What?” I ask. All this staring is making me self-conscious.
This causes him to break the stare. “I…You just didn’t strike me as someone who’d be interested in hanging out with three kids.”
I shrug. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Wes. You might miss a great story inside.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. And he doesn’t get a chance to continue because Hank comes barreling out of the door, backpack in tow. Magnolia, Emerson, and Peggy follow behind.
“I thought I heard you out here,” Peggy says.
“Yup. They were having so much fun I just had to join in,” I say. “But I should be going.”
“Do you have to?” Magnolia asks.
I crouch down to her eye level. “I do. It’s my bedtime. And I’m pretty sure it’s yours too.”
“You have a bedtime?” I think this child’s head just exploded by that thought.
“Yup. Bedtimes are important. You need your beauty rest! But you better come find me next time you’re at your Grandma’s.”
She nods before slamming her little body into me for a hug. “I will. And don’t worry. You’ll get better at throwing the ball.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” I give her one more squeeze before letting go.
“All right kids, into the car,” Wes says, shooing them toward the driveway. “I’ll be there in a second.”
I start to walk back to my house as the kids make their way to the car, but I’m stopped by Wes’s hand on my arm. He’s not gripping tight. I’m not sure why I felt like I was electrocuted. He might only be lightly holding my forearm, but I swear I can feel his touch all over my body.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice low and sincere.
“You never need to thank me for hanging out with those kids.”
He shakes his head. “I do. I’m sure I’m going to get the full play-by-play in the car, but I can already tell you made their year. So thank you.”
“Anytime.”
We stare at each other for more than a few seconds, his hand still touching me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now. Do I say something? Do I move? Do I breathe? I’m not sure of the protocol.
“Excuse me!” Magnolia yells as she runs through us, breaking our connection. “Gotta pee!”
“I’ll go make sure she’s okay,” Peggy says, turning to go inside—but not before giving us a wink.
Shit. Peggy was here the whole time. How do I keep forgetting that people are around me when this man is near me?
