Page 29 of The Single Dad Project

Screw. Him.

No. Wait. She’d done that already and that was partly responsible for landing her in the position she found herself in.

Damn him. Adam Reed could go take a long walk off that short, dilapidated dock that butted up against the edge of the Hudson property.

But what bothers me more? That nepotism and favoritism got you this job and robbed it from someone else who has the experience to pull it off.

Grinding her jaw, she stirred harder.

All day she’d been trying to scrub those words from her head. And even now, hours later while she stood in her family inn’s kitchen, they still gripped her like barnacles clinging to the side of a boat. They refused to be scraped off. She’d told him his opinion didn’t mean shit to her. And it didn’t. But...

But maybe if the same doubts hadn’t floated through her own mind... Maybe if she hadn’t wondered the same thing... Then his accusation might not claim so much space in her head.

Damn himtwice.

“I don’t know what those potatoes could’ve possibly done to offend you, but I think they’re ready to ask for forgiveness and mercy.”

Flo didn’t glance up at the sound of her sister Leo’s voice, but continued to whip the potatoes into shape.

“They should’ve watched their damn mouths,” Flo muttered.

And bytheyshe meant Adam.

Leo laughed, and a glass of wine appeared on the kitchen island next to the pot. Her older sister understood her so well. Setting down the big serving spoon, Flo picked up the glass and downed a large sip, meeting Leo’s blue-gray eyes. With her dark brown hair captured in a high ponytail and a lilac wrap dress adorning her svelte figure, she must’ve just wrapped up a meeting with a client.

Kinsale Inn often stayed fully booked no matter the season as it was a popular bed-and-breakfast. While Cole had his mayoral appointment and law firm, Wolf had his carpentry business, Sinead her own law career in Boston and Flo, her studio, Leo’s passion was the family inn.

And she had increased its popularity by expanding its services to include outdoor weddings and receptions. Their sprawling back property included a pond, a thick throng of trees and a breathtaking view of Monument Mountain and Mount Everett. It was the perfect backdrop for engagements, ceremonies and parties. And under Leo’s management, Kinsale Inn had become a premiere wedding venue.

“You look nice. Who’d you sucker into the dream of happily-ever-after now?” Flo asked, arching an eyebrow as her sister settled onto the stool across from her.

“A very sweet couple out of Concord. Their daughter got married here last year, and they loved the inn so much they want to renew their vows here in the fall on their fiftieth anniversary.” Leo picked up her own glass of wine and sipped, squinting at Flo over the rim. “And be careful. Don’t want any of that bitterness spilling into the potatoes. Yech.” She grimaced.

“I’d give you the finger, but that’d mean I’d have to put down my wine. Oh wait.” Flo widened her eyes in mock surprise, waving her free hand in the air. “Would you look at that? I have another hand.” And she flipped her sister off.

Cackling, Leo set down her glass and propped her folded arms on top of the wood island.

“Good one. I’m going to save that for later use.” Grinning, she dipped her head toward the pot. “Seriously, though, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing. Those soupy potatoes are proof that something’s upset you. So spill. Owen doesn’t get here with Bono for another hour. That gives me plenty of time to bug the hell out of you,” she said, mentioning her husband and two year-old son.

Owen Strafford, Leo’s husband and star quarterback for the Jersey Knights, had continued the Dennison family tradition of naming their children after musicians, much to Moe and Dad’s delight. It was too soon to tell if the toddler would have the pipes and talent of his namesake, but he was beyond adorable.

Sighing, Flo debated whether or not to be completely honest. She loved her sister—all six of her brothers and sisters—dearly, but Leo wouldn’t know how to mind her business even if she was given color-by-number instructions. None of them did. And she would prefer if none of them were privy to the details of her sex life. Especially Cole, given he and the town council had hired her without knowing she’d fucked the head architect.

She needed more potatoes to mash.

“Flo?” Leo pressed.

“All right, I’ll talk,” she muttered, lifting her glass to her lips. After a moment, and another long, deep sip, she lowered it and admitted, “In a roundabout way, Imighthave told the architect on the Hudson renovation to go fuck himself.”

Leo blinked. Slowly straightened. Blinked again.

“You did what, now?”

Instead of answering, Flo took another big gulp of wine.

Her sister stared at her then burst out laughing, the sound filling the kitchen. Flo’s lips twitched, and the longer Leo cackled, the bigger her smile grew until her chuckles joined her sister’s.

“Whew.” Leo held her fingers under her eyes, dabbing at them. “Holy crap. Wasn’t today your first day? I mean, I’m assuming because the town is buzzing with news about the television crews arriving. So how did he get on your bad side so quickly?”

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