Grady’s nowhere in sight, probably not in the house.
I rummage around and find a few large trash bags in the pantry, then take them to the front porch, where I dump the contents of the girls’ duffel bags into separate bags before stuffing everything into a couple more huge trash bags. Once they’re all tied off, I leave the contaminated stuff on the porch for later, after the washer and dryer are freed up.
The girls are out of the tubs and dressed when I return upstairs with the stacks of fresh clothes from the living room. They put everything away like the angels they seem to be, and then help me gather new bedding.
Usually, when chores are involved, it doesn’t take long to find out how well behaved kids really are.
So far, I’m impressed.
Grady and his helpers have done their job right with these girls.
The twins are both workers, eager to help and friendly, even if they might still be a little weirded out by my presence.
“Aunt Faye had us change the bedding before she left,” Sawyer says, scratching her neck. “You’re sure you wanna tackle this stuff again?”
“I don’t mind. We’re just going the extra mile for your dad.” I slip the pillowcase onto a pillow and set it on the bed, fluffing it a few times with a smile.
“Yeah, he gets funny with the strangest things. He’s such a dad,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“It’s nothing unusual. I had lice when I was young, about your age, and my father was just as creeped out.”
“What about your mom?” Avery asks, flopping down on the end of the bed.
I slip the second pillow in its case and try not to frown.
“Well, my mom died when I was three, so it was always just Dad and me.”
“Really?” Sawyer stops, leveling a skeptical gaze on me.
I can’t blame her.
She probably thinks I’m BSing just to make friends, but sadly I’m not.
Not with this.
“Yes, really. I don’t remember much about my mother, just what I’ve been told. But my dad’s a great guy. He had to travel a lot for work while I was growing up, so I had tons of nannies.”
Avery sits down on the foot of the bed. “We’ve never had a real nanny before. Only Aunt Faye, but she...she had to go take care of her friend in Colorado this summer. Her friend doesn’t have any family and she’s real sick.”
We’re all in Avery’s room. Sawyer sits down on the white chair that matches the desk near the window. “Aunt Faye said Hailey Wood’s mother, Linda, agreed to take care of us, but none of us wanted that.”
Sawyer sticks out her tongue to make a point.
I laugh.
“Oh, why’s that?” I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“She only agreed to because she wants Dad to be her boyfriend!” Sawyer throws back with disgust.
“It’s true,” Avery says with a sigh. “Hailey’s in our grade and her mama’s a lunch lady at school. She’s always like, ‘Oh, my favorite twins! I can’t believe how much you look like your daddy.’ So annoying.”
“And gross!” Sawyer chirps, making exaggerated kissy faces in the air.
Hilarious.
I remember a few women on the prowl after my dad and how cringey it could get. But I turn the subject to school, wondering what grade they’re in.
“Fifth,” Sawyer answers sharply. “One more year till middle school.”
I smile, knowing they’ll probably be a lot more concerned about their own crushes soon rather than their dad’s romantic life, but I don’t tease them.
I just let them prattle on about their teachers, Aunt Faye, the many times Linda Wood tried to hit Grady with cupid’s arrow, and little hints of their small-town lives.
A short time later, we make our way downstairs.
I’m relieved I can relate to these adorable girls, and so far they don’t hate me.
It helps that I’ve been in their shoes, raised by a single father.
Also, they’re twins, but opposites in many ways. Their personalities define them, and I really like that.
Back in the kitchen, Grady sits at the kitchen table with another man, a green-eyed hulk with tattoos and rakish sandy-brown hair. He looks like he’s only a couple inches shorter than Grady himself.
God, what’s in the air here?
Is Dallas, North Dakota, some kinda weird magnet for the hottest men on Earth?
“Howdy, ma’am. I’m guessing you’re Miss Willow...”
Faulk—which must be a single syllable nickname play on his last name, Faulkner—introduces himself and makes me feel like he’s sincerely glad to meet me. Surprising when he must know by now I’ve brought nothing but trouble to his friend’s doorstep.
I watch as the two men make small talk with the girls until they get antsy, right before Grady says they can go ride their four-wheelers while the adults talk about “boring tax crap.”
If he stumbled over our cover story earlier, he’s become a total smoothie now, and I smile.