“But—”
“No buts. You’re not in this alone anymore, okay? I’ve got your back, and I’m taking all this off your plate. Now go or you’ll be late for your meeting.”
She opened her mouth, clearly intending to argue again, but he simply laid a finger over her lips.
“Go, Cayla. And I don’t want to hear or see you until later this afternoon, okay?”
After a long, searching look, she relented. “Okay. Thank you.”
He saw her off and joined Maddie in the 4-Runner, realizing he’d forgotten to give Cayla her muffins. Bigger priorities. Turning in the driver’s seat, he passed one back to Maddie. “Have a banana bread muffin. It’ll make you feel better.”
She gave him a side eye she’d clearly learned from her mother, but bit into the muffin. “Mmm. Can I have two?”
“If you finish the first one and there’s time before we get to school.”
He backed out of the driveway and put in a call to Brax on the SUV’s Bluetooth as he headed into town to the elementary school.
“Calling for that extra time off after all?”
“Not like you think. The situation at home has gone entirely FUBAR.” Holt outlined what he’d walked in on. “I’m about to drop Maddie at school and then go deal with the rest of this. I’m not gonna make it back in until later.”
Brax made a low whistle. “That is an impressive level of FUBAR. We’ve got you covered, man. And let us know if we can do anything to help.”
“Appreciate it.” He hung up and turned onto Main Street.
“I want my other muffin.”
Holt stretched his arm to hand it back to her.
“Thank you.”
She made more yum noises as she bit into the second one, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back for diverting that disaster.
“Holt?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“What’s FUBAR?”
* * *
Misty tuckeda pencil into the twist of auburn hair knotted at her nape, dislodging some of the yellow freesia she wore today to advertise her wares. “Okay, I’ll get to work on some designs this week and try to pull something together for you by next Thursday.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” Cayla began gathering her own notes from this morning’s client meeting. It had run long but had gone well. She’d landed the gig for planning the Sandersons’ golden anniversary party. Since she’d already been in town from that, she went ahead and stopped by Moonbeams and Sweet Dreams to talk to her friend about prospective flowers.
“Now, how about you tell me why you’ve looked on the verge of tears since you walked in here?” She shot a look toward the front of the store, verifying they were alone. “Is everything going okay with… stuff?”
Appreciating the concern and the discretion, Cayla slumped in her chair. “So far, everything’s been relatively quiet. No real problems there. At least none we didn’t expect.” Though she’d have felt better if her FBI contact had provided more information than, “We’re working on it.”
“The day just started as a total poop parade.” She gave Misty the rundown of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
“Wow. That’s a special level of awful, right there.”
“I wouldn’t have made my meeting at all if Holt hadn’t come home to help get Maddie off to school. He shooed me out of the house and said he’d take care of everything. I was ordered not to think about it, but that’s like telling me not to breathe. So I’m about to head back to the house to get things sorted.”
“You don’t think he meant it?”
“Oh, he’s absolutely well-intentioned, but I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance in heck the day can be pulled out of the nosedive it took straight out of the gate. For my own sanity, I need the chaos rectified. Right now, I’m just hoping he at least managed to de-skunk the dog.”
“Fair. How are things going with married life? Big adjustment?”
“Not as much of one as I expected. He’s gone out of his way to be accommodating, and he’s fantastic with Maddie.”
“As previously documented.” Misty leaned closer. “I’m more interested in how he is with you. After the reception, it seemed like you two were getting along… well.” She only smirked a little.
Cayla’s brain supplied a helpful replay of their little bathroom interlude from earlier in the week. She shivered. “We’d be getting along a lot better if not for a profound case of kiddus interruptus. I love my child. I adore my child. But I seriously wish she would sleep through the night in her own bed in her own room.”
“Sounds like you need to invoke the time-honored tradition of parents everywhere.”
“What’s that?”
“Sleepover at grandma’s house.”
“Mama already takes on so much to help with her. I can’t ask her to take Maddie overnight just so that I can jump my hot new husband. Especially as she’s aware this wasn’t exactly a love match.”
“I mean, you don’t have to say that’s why you’re asking.”
“My mom is not a stupid woman. She’ll know. And that’s just… awkward.”
“Cayla, honey, you gave birth. Your mom knows you’ve had sex at least once.”
“I know, but… this is different. This was a marriage of convenience. Almost a business arrangement.”
“It’s still a marriage. She won’t think less of you for treating it as such. Hell, I think most women would think less of you for not taking advantage of being married to someone like him.”
Cayla snorted.
“I’m just saying,” Misty continued, “married people have needs. It’s worth thinking about.”
Maybe after the specter of disaster had stopped hovering over her head. “Fair enough. I’m gonna head on home and do whatever’s left that needs doing. Catch up soon, okay?”
She made the short drive, pulling into the garage with a deep sense of foreboding. Holt wasn’t here. Was he out picking up some kind of supplies or had he needed to get back to the bakery? What level of chaos was waiting for her inside? Already wishing for an entire bottle of wine, she got out of the car.
The rumble of the washer greeted her as she stepped into the house. Washing whatever clothes and towels had come into contact with the skunk spray was smart. She didn’t smell a trace of it as she moved into the kitchen. The dry, sparkling kitchen. She stopped in the middle of the floor and stared. There was no sign of the flood she’d left behind. But there was a note on the kitchen table, beside a stack of painting supplies and a bag from the hardware store.
Hope your meeting went well. BB is having an afternoon play date with Leno over at Mia and Brax’s in their fenced-in backyard while she dries off from her bath. The seal on the dishwasher door has been replaced. Started the skunk load in the washer. If it finishes while you’re home, you’ll probably want to switch it to the dryer. Picked up the new lock at the hardware store when I went to get the seal. I’ll get it installed when I get home. Happy painting.
Holt
Cayla read the note through twice, not quite believing it.
He’d taken care of everything, exactly as he’d promised. No muss, no fuss. No putting it off until later. He’d just done it. And she actually had time to finish painting her table and chairs for the office, exactly as he’d said she would.
She’d officially married a unicorn.
Drowning in gratitude, she burst into loud, messy tears. God, this man. He paid attention. He saw what needed doing, anticipated the best course of action, and took care of business. Without her having to ask. Without her having to feel like she’d failed. All these years on her own, she’d been the one who had to see, anticipate, and tend. But he made her feel seen and taken care of, and she didn’t quite know what to do with that. She kept expecting to wake up from this dream. And during all the moments when she knew she was awake, a part of her kept waiting for him to regret his impulsive offer of marriage as protection. Because he was too good to be true and there had to be something that made him real.
Despite the tears, she didn’t waste the afternoon he’d given her. In two uninterrupted hours, she’d finished a second and final coat of paint on the table and entire set of chairs. As soon as they dried, they could haul them to her office and put them in place. Flushed with a sense of accomplishment and more relaxed than she’d been in weeks, Cayla changed again and drove up to the bakery to pick up her daughter.
Knowing the front door would be locked, she walked along the wrap-around porch to the service entrance, noting the faint thump of music. Holt was rocking out to something while he worked, that was for sure. She tugged open the door and got blasted with sound. Maddie sat on one of the worktables, her smile radiant as she boogied in place while Holt belted out “Can’t Stop The Feeling.” Cayla propped her shoulder against the door frame, enjoying his damned fine impression of Justin Timberlake, using a whisk as a microphone. And as he shook his ass and shimmied his shoulders, to the absolute delight of her daughter, she felt her heart simply thud to the floor at his feet.
She’d been in lust with this man for months. In very heavy like with him almost as long. But now, she understood she was unquestionably, irrevocably, in love with him. Her friend. Her co-parent. Her husband.
Still absorbing the implications of that, she wasn’t prepared when he snagged her hand and spun her into the dance. He just wrapped his arms around her, blue eyes sparkling as he continued to sing, until she fell into his rhythm and began to dance, too. She was laughing by the end, going to her toes to steal a kiss. He lingered, even as Maddie clapped her hands and begged for another song.
“Get your painting done?”