Page 40 of Wood You Rather?

“Thank you for the banana bread,” Parker said sweetly. “It really was the best I’ve ever had.”

Mom was chuffed. “I’ll make more this week.”

“You are so kind. And we’d love dinner, but I’m so busy with work.”

Mom tsked but relented, eventually getting pulled away by one of her friends and giving us some breathing room.

“Sorry,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “She can be a lot.”

Parker shrugged in what I almost mistook for nonchalance. But on closer inspection, I caught a hint of a frown, and maybe even misty eyes. “She’s fun. My mom lives in North Carolina, so I don’t have anyone nagging me to get married or to eat veggies. You’re lucky.”

With that, she continued on, leaving me to catch up while I worked through what she’d just confessed.

What had happened with her family? I knew her dad was a piece of shit, but her mom? Guilt flooded my veins. Iwaslucky. My family, while loud and domineering and all up in my business, loved me. I woke up every day with total certainty that my mother would do anything for me and for my siblings. And while they drove me crazy more often than not, I was beginning to see how rare and special it was to have such a close-knit family.

After another hour or so, we took a break from socializing to grab beers at one of the tents. The wheels were once again turning in her head as she collated all the information we had gathered.

She tapped her chin. “Denise is the retired teacher who works at the library. She was married to Pat, but then they divorced, and he married Karen. She works part time at Gagnon Lumber doing invoicing. Did I get it all right?”

“Yes.”

“And her son used to work for you, but he moved down south and got his electrician certification.”

“Yes. He always worked hard. Not the brightest, but Dad liked him.”

She whipped her phone out and typed in a few notes before putting it back in the pocket of her jeans.

“You are really good at this,” I said, genuinely impressed.

She elbowed me in the ribs, making me almost spill my beer. “Stop trying to get in my pants, Gagnon,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I’m not!” I took a step back to preserve my drink and prevent injury. It wasn’t a lie. Sure, maybe I was flirting a bit, but I had no intention of going there with her. No matter how irresistible she was proving to be. “Pretty sure if I did, I’d find teeth down there,” I quipped.

She popped a hip, giving me her sassiest glare. Damn, I loved the fire inside her.

“Fangs, actually. Good guess.”

We studied one another for a moment as waves of heat coursed between us. She was doing something to me. And the sooner I figured it out, the sooner I could fight it and get my sanity back.

Thankfully, my thought spiral was interrupted by my niece and nephew.

“Uncle Paz,” Tucker said as Goldie tugged on my arm. “My mom said we can get blueberry ice cream.” He raised one eyebrow, confident that I’d say yes, even though there was no way Alice had agreed to it. Not if she’d taken one look at the chocolate smeared all over Goldie’s face.

“Isn’t it a little cold for ice cream?”

Both kids looked at me in total disbelief. Resistance was futile. Goldie was already dragging me in the direction of the ice cream, so there was no way I could get out of it.

“Okay, fine. I’ll take you to the ice cream tent.”

“Cool. Miss Parker, do you want some too?” Goldie asked, her curls bouncing.

Parker gave her a big smile. “Of course! It’s never too cold for ice cream.”

Goldie jumped up and down in excitement as we joined the line. She was heading toward a major sugar crash. I would surely get an angry text from Henri tomorrow morning about buying her too many treats. Even though he was just as bad. The child had more toys than I’d ever seen in my life. He was always coming home with Legos and bikes, and he had recently built a massive swing set in his backyard. Goldie was not the kind of gal who took no for an answer. I only hoped that as she grew up, she would use her powers for good and not evil.

Speaking of evil, Mitch Hebert appeared in my periphery, then, and I had to tamp down the urge to pull the kids closer. He wasn’t dangerous. He was just a fucking asshole. I hated the man with every cell in my body. And my protective instincts ran deep.

He cut in front of us and, wearing a lecherous grin, held out a one-hundred-dollar bill to the high school–age girl working the cash register. “Keep the change, cutie,” he said, almost bumping into me.

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