Page 60 of Quintessentially

For a moment, I watch as my daughter heads toward the back stairs. As soon as Molly is too far away to hear, I walk toward my mother—the woman with the smirk and twinkle in her eyes. “Why?” I ask.

“Why, what?”

“He’s leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s what he said. He also said he’d be back.”

I cross my arms over my breasts and lean against the counter. “He’s said that before.”

“Well, it took him a while,” Mom says as she hands me a slice of fresh cucumber, “but you have to admit, he’s back.”

Plopping the cucumber in my mouth, I let my chin drop.

Laying the large knife on the counter, Mom turns to me and reaches for my shoulders. “Kandace Anne, Dax isn’t a bad person.”

“I know that. It’s part of the problem.”

“What are the other parts?”

Lifting my chin, I look into Mom’s eyes. “He’s…a good person. He’s still as handsome as ever, if not more, and he’s been a big help at Quintessential Treasures these last few days. Did you know that he’s buying Ruth’s house?”

“He is?”

I nod. “He’s also still sexy and” —my cheeks heat— “he kisses even better than he did.”

Mom grins. “It sounds like Ruth’s plan of making the two of you spend a few days together is working.”

“If her plan is to get my heart broken again, she’s on target. Why invite him to dinner?”

“He said he asked you out to dinner, and you refused.”

“I didn’t refuse. I don’t want to leave Molly. She’s not your responsibility—”

Mom grins. “Now you have both. Dax also said he wanted to talk to me and your dad.”

My head starts to ache. “Wow, this will be fun.”

“What’s fun?” Molly asks as she comes from one direction, and the back door opens, and my brother comes in from the other.

I do my best to glare Justin’s way. “Seriously?”

As he takes off his cap, I see that his hair is mussed from work and his jeans and shirt are covered in dust and dirt.

“Seriously what?” he asks. “I live here.”

“We all live here,” Mom says.

I turned to her. “Do you know Justin punched Dax?”

“What?” Molly asks, her eyes big as saucers.

Inhaling, I shake my head, having momentarily forgotten I had little ears listening. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Can you please go find Grandpa?”

“Uncle Justin hit Dax?”

Justin comes forward and laying his hand on Molly’s head, fluffs her hair. The pigtails from this morning are gone. Her hair is now hanging down her back and wavy. “It was a joke,” he says. “We were just playing around.”

I hold back a laugh as my daughter turns on Justin with her little fists against her sides. “Mrs. Pollard says never to hit.”

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