in my arms. Braydon hovered close by, making sure I didn’t drop her.
“Braydon, my sister has two kids. I’ve got this.”
He smiled a little and with hesitation moved back a few inches.
Jain continued, “You’d be helping me, Todd. Really.”
“I thought you agreed to stop your matchmaking last night?” I touched their daughter’s cheek. A real beauty—all soft and chubby, just like a baby should be.
Jain’s eyes twinkled and she chuckled. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. Really, though, Tiffany is going to need help today now that I’m indisposed.” She grinned and looked at her daughter in my arms. “If I know Tiffany, she’ll work day and night to stay on schedule. She won’t want to let the Anderson family down. She counted on my help.” Her eyebrows arched, waiting for my reply.
“Okay.” I was a goner.
“Okay? My favorite word! Braydon, did you hear that? Todd said ‘Okay’.”
Braydon laughed and shook his head. “You’re a goner, you know that?”
Oh, I knew.
***
ANOTHER HOUR AND I was parked on the street in front of the Habitat Home. Tiffany was out front, directing the workers. She hadn’t spotted me yet as I sat frozen in my car. She wore yoga pants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, her hair up in a high ponytail. The sight of her made me catch my breath. I’d only seen her at the charity functions—dressed to the nines. But now, looking so natural, she looked…spectacular.
Tiffany went back into the house. Time to make my move. She needed my help; that was obvious. But would she take it from me? She’d looked plenty angry with me last night. Maybe I could make it up to her.
I approached the front door just as a delivery man walked out. I stepped into the front hallway and looked around. It appeared they still had a lot to do. The shell was in place—roof, walls, windows, and such. But the floor wasn’t done, and the walls needed painting. I walked farther in and saw Tiffany wrestling with one of the many cans of paint.
“Need help with that?”
Her body stiffened. Not a good sign. She removed the lid, dipped her paintbrush, and turned toward me.
With narrowed eyes, she examined me. “Nope. I got it.”
“Jain sent me. I’m here in her place.”
Tiffany’s lips pursed together. I was sure there were some choice swear words being held back.
“She did, did she?” Her expression morphed into a full-on scowl.
“Yeah. I can do…whatever you need.” Looking down at the paint can, I said, “I love to paint.” I told the truth. The great memories as a child helping my mom resurfaced. I reached down for one of the brushes in the tray that held a pale green paint. I liked the color; it was calming.
But Tiffany’s eyes were anything but calm. I’d say a storm brewed there. She looked angry. No, she looked pissed . She reached over to take the paintbrush out of my hand, but I pulled back, splattering paint onto her shirt and face.
Shit.
I should have been repentant and apologized. But she looked comical with green paint splattered across her scowl. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You think that’s funny?” she asked. A hurricane brewed in her eyes. With a calculated, slow movement, she took her brush, the one dripping with paint, and, starting at my forehead and working down, proceeded to slide it down my body. I stood still as she did her damage. I guess I deserved that.
The house was empty. It was close to twelve, and the volunteers had all left for lunch. Time to have some fun.
A little paint fight wouldn’t hurt. The room was void of anything that could be damaged. A little retribution was in order. I leaned down and dipped my paintbrush back into the tray. Tiffany saw what I planned to do and took a step backwards. Wrong move. Her foot got caught in one of the trays, and she went flying, flinging paint everywhere as she slid down on her backside. I tried to step forward to prevent her fall, but my reaction wasn’t quick enough. I
“Braydon, my sister has two kids. I’ve got this.”
He smiled a little and with hesitation moved back a few inches.
Jain continued, “You’d be helping me, Todd. Really.”
“I thought you agreed to stop your matchmaking last night?” I touched their daughter’s cheek. A real beauty—all soft and chubby, just like a baby should be.
Jain’s eyes twinkled and she chuckled. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. Really, though, Tiffany is going to need help today now that I’m indisposed.” She grinned and looked at her daughter in my arms. “If I know Tiffany, she’ll work day and night to stay on schedule. She won’t want to let the Anderson family down. She counted on my help.” Her eyebrows arched, waiting for my reply.
“Okay.” I was a goner.
“Okay? My favorite word! Braydon, did you hear that? Todd said ‘Okay’.”
Braydon laughed and shook his head. “You’re a goner, you know that?”
Oh, I knew.
***
ANOTHER HOUR AND I was parked on the street in front of the Habitat Home. Tiffany was out front, directing the workers. She hadn’t spotted me yet as I sat frozen in my car. She wore yoga pants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, her hair up in a high ponytail. The sight of her made me catch my breath. I’d only seen her at the charity functions—dressed to the nines. But now, looking so natural, she looked…spectacular.
Tiffany went back into the house. Time to make my move. She needed my help; that was obvious. But would she take it from me? She’d looked plenty angry with me last night. Maybe I could make it up to her.
I approached the front door just as a delivery man walked out. I stepped into the front hallway and looked around. It appeared they still had a lot to do. The shell was in place—roof, walls, windows, and such. But the floor wasn’t done, and the walls needed painting. I walked farther in and saw Tiffany wrestling with one of the many cans of paint.
“Need help with that?”
Her body stiffened. Not a good sign. She removed the lid, dipped her paintbrush, and turned toward me.
With narrowed eyes, she examined me. “Nope. I got it.”
“Jain sent me. I’m here in her place.”
Tiffany’s lips pursed together. I was sure there were some choice swear words being held back.
“She did, did she?” Her expression morphed into a full-on scowl.
“Yeah. I can do…whatever you need.” Looking down at the paint can, I said, “I love to paint.” I told the truth. The great memories as a child helping my mom resurfaced. I reached down for one of the brushes in the tray that held a pale green paint. I liked the color; it was calming.
But Tiffany’s eyes were anything but calm. I’d say a storm brewed there. She looked angry. No, she looked pissed . She reached over to take the paintbrush out of my hand, but I pulled back, splattering paint onto her shirt and face.
Shit.
I should have been repentant and apologized. But she looked comical with green paint splattered across her scowl. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You think that’s funny?” she asked. A hurricane brewed in her eyes. With a calculated, slow movement, she took her brush, the one dripping with paint, and, starting at my forehead and working down, proceeded to slide it down my body. I stood still as she did her damage. I guess I deserved that.
The house was empty. It was close to twelve, and the volunteers had all left for lunch. Time to have some fun.
A little paint fight wouldn’t hurt. The room was void of anything that could be damaged. A little retribution was in order. I leaned down and dipped my paintbrush back into the tray. Tiffany saw what I planned to do and took a step backwards. Wrong move. Her foot got caught in one of the trays, and she went flying, flinging paint everywhere as she slid down on her backside. I tried to step forward to prevent her fall, but my reaction wasn’t quick enough. I
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