our eyes meet, and an electric current zaps straight to my balls.
Shit. This is goddamn inconvenient.
She immediately flashes a tight smile.
“Hey, Trace,” Felise says.
“Ladies. What are you plotting?”
“World domination,” Magan says.
“That does not surprise me one bit.” I take a seat. Do they even realize that the power the three of them might have? Telling them might be dangerous.
I catch Romy’s eye again, but she quickly looks away. Great.
I remember the night we met—how easy things were. How it seemed meant to be that she showed up instead of Amy Whoever, how she wanted a distraction and fun, and somehow I stepped right up to give her that. Now I’ve fucked it all up.
A tight feeling grips my chest. Not only is she Joe and Cassie’s daughter, I’m no good at relationships. That would really create an awkward family dynamic. Right now the discomfort is just between her and me. Imagine if it was the whole family. I’d be banished. I’m not really one of them, and if I hurt Romy…
I can’t risk that.
The girls continue their chatter about the new design Romy is doing for the store, and I listen as I sip a beer. Romy’s laptop is sitting on the table, and she picks it up to show them some mockups she made. I lean over to get a glimpse. They’re fantastic.
She talks with confidence and competence. “Making it visually appealing is important,” she says. “But in the end, it’s how functional the website is that matters. You don’t want to lose customers because they can’t navigate your site.”
“Agreed,” Magan says.
“I love this one.” Felise points at the screen. “But I wish the font was a little more flowy.”
“We can do that.” Romy focuses on her computer for a moment, and with a few clicks makes the change. “How about that?”
“Oh! Yes. That’s perfect.”
“I love it too,” Magan says.
I can’t stop watching her. The sweet curve of her mouth, the shine of her hair, the way her eyes sparkle…
Joe comes out of the house to join us. “What’s up?” he asks.
Guilt smacks me in the face so hard I nearly fall over backward in my chair.
The girls show him what Romy’s working on, and he studies the site. “That’s impressive, Romy.”
“Wait till it’s finished.” She grins at him. “It’ll blow you away.”
“Have you looked at the website for Dream Homes?” he asks her.
“No.” She raises her eyebrows. “Should I?”
“Take a peek. See what you think.”
I watch her blue eyes focus, moving over the screen. She purses her lips, clicking through the site. “It’s good,” she finally says.
“It’s not good.” Joe laughs. “Not compared to what you’ve shown us.”
A few years ago, I had to convince Joe that we even needed a website. We set up something cheap and quick so we have an online presence because these days you have to, but we have no trouble attracting customers, so it hasn’t been a priority to update it.
“Dinner’s ready!” Cassie calls from the door.
Romy shuts her computer and ignores me as we head inside to sit at the dining table. I follow behind her, irked at her indifference.
Why am I annoyed? This is what I wanted. This is why I stopped things yesterday before we went too far.
As usual, Cassie has conjured up a feast—balsamic brown sugar pork roast, mashed potatoes, and crisp roasted brussels sprouts. The conversation continues as platters and bowls are passed around, Romy happily chatting away… just not with me. My irritation grows. And I open my mouth. “How’s your throat, Romy?”
She shoots me a startled glance. “Uh, it’s fine.”
“What’s wrong with your throat?” Cassie asks immediately.
“Nothing,” Romy replies quickly.
I repress my smile. “No laryngitis?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “No,” she snaps.
Jesus, I’m like a little kid. Even her antagonism is better than disinterest.
“Did you have laryngitis?” Joe asks.
“Not really.” Romy drops her gaze to her plate. “I just had a little sore throat. It’s fine now. This pork looks delicious!”
“Good thing it’s not fish.” I try not to smirk.
Her glare could set my hair on fire.
“Don’t you like fish?” Felise asks Romy with a puzzled expression.
“I like fish,” she says tightly.
“Next time I’ll make salmon,” Cassie says cheerfully. “We all love salmon.”
“Better than goldfish,” I say. I’m trying not to laugh as Romy shoots pointy objects at me with her eyes.
Cassie gives me a look with her forehead furrowed. “Goldfish?”
“We had to evacuate our building today,” Romy says. “At work. The fire alarm went off. We didn’t know if it was a drill