Page 44 of Broken Daddy

“Uh—listen, I’m not feeling too well.”

It diverts the conversation, but it’s also true. Sienna’s expression changes from suspicious to concerned.

“Yeah, you’re looking a little green, Gen. Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I shake my head as she continues, “I’ve never seen food affect you like this. You’ve always been up to tryanything,even that disgusting century egg that was fermented for months—”

Pressing a hand to my mouth, I stand up, effectively cutting her off, striding quickly toward the bathroom.

Theonlypositive part about throwing up in a diner restroom is it allows me to completely avoid having to explain to Sienna I’ve been hooking up with my boss.

Chapter18

Nathan

A dark car pulls up in the drive and I turn, staring it down. Ever since someone started messing with Gen, I’ve been keeping an eye out for this sort of thing.

The door opens and I breathe a sigh of relief as Gen steps out, her ponytail swinging. She thanks the driver and smiles tiredly.

I can’t help the rumble of jealousy inside; she said she was meetinga friendin the city for lunch, but what friend? A male friend? Is she seeing someone?

“It isn’t any of my business,” I mutter, turning away. It’s easy to hear the car pulling away and then the crunch of gravel as Gen starts down the path toward the pool house. She’ll have to pass right by the barn where I’m working and my shoulders tense as she does so.

But the crunch of footsteps stops.

I look over my shoulder, going for stoic, though it probably looks more like stressed-out. Or intimidating, maybe. Trudy has always said I should try smiling more.

“Good lunch?”

She looks startled at my words. Her eyes dart away from the iron cutout of an owl head hanging on the barn door.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, no, actually. Something about the food turned my stomach. But it was good to see my friend and catch up.”

My throat tightens with the urge to ask her just who thisfriendis. Instead, like an idiot, I say, “A little ironic that a chef gets sick at another restaurant.”

Gen gives me a characteristic glare. She seems a little more like herself since stepping out of the car.

“What are you working on?”

The curious lilt of her voice as I turn back around has the hair on the back of my neck rising. It’s so like Julia’s—the way my wife would creep into the barn, lean casually against a support beam, and ask exactly the same thing.

Clearing my throat and rolling my shoulders gives me just enough time to get my bearings.

“Blueprints for a client. Screened in porch.”

Hesitantly, Gen creeps a little closer. I sigh and give in, one shoulder sagging as I step to the side to let her see. She eagerly stands on her tiptoes and gazes down at the drawings. It’s just a draft, all pencil drawn, and my ears heat with embarrassment. It’s like I’m in high school all over again, waiting for the teacher’s approval.

“Oh, wow. This is huge! There’s an upper deck, too?”

“Yes. They requested an outdoor sleeping area, so…” I point out the general layout of the porch, which will be built in a few months up in the Adirondacks. “A large dining table here with a built-in fire feature. Custom chairs here, here, and here. This opens for a dart board. And this will be where the stairs drop down. It’ll be a kind of wire pulley system.”

It’s so easy to get lost in the excitement of the project. I find myself leaning over the blueprints with Gen pressed closely against me, her ponytail grazing my arm as she hums along.

“They must be loaded.”

It comes out as a mutter and I can’t suppress my grin. “Oh, they are. He’s an investment banker and she’s a well-known artist. Actually, your brother showed some of her work last year, I think.”

The mention of Russell grounds us both. It’s a slightly humid day, and the air feels thick between us. I swear, I can feel the press of her skin against mine, even though there’s inches between us.

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