The Next Mrs Russo - Jana Aston Page 0,58

don’t know how to sew though, at all. But maybe you could teach me? DIY is so in.”

“Oh,” I say, a little caught off guard at both her enthusiasm and at how many words she can string together on one breath. She most definitely has not inherited her father’s stoic, impossible-to-read demeanor. She’s an open book of sunshine. Why was I worried about meeting her? “Sure, we can do that.”

“Cool,” she says with a big grin.

“I’ll be in back,” Warren announces, but no one is really paying attention to him. Except me, because I can’t control myself. He’s wearing faded jeans and an old Poconos t-shirt. I’d ten out of ten feel him up right now if his daughter wasn’t here. And Miller, obviously. Point being, I’m going to restrain myself.

Bethany’s eyes land on the flowers I’ve set in the middle of the worktable and her face lights up. “Ohhh, flowers,” she gushes, running her fingertips over a petal. “I cannot wait until I’m old enough to date and get flowers.”

“Never,” Warren mutters, already halfway into the kitchen.

“Girl, buy your own flowers,” I respond with a laugh. “I do.”

“How progressively feminist,” Bethany says, hands clasped together and eyes wide. Then she winks at me and announces, “Dad, I need a raise in my allowance so I can buy my own flowers and stay single until I’m twenty-four.”

Warren pauses at the threshold of the kitchen and turns, looking between the two of us as if it’s just occurred to him that pairing us up was a very bad idea. For him, mostly. “Behave,” he says and then disappears into the kitchen. A moment later the words, “Both of you,” follow.

Bethany rolls her eyes while I reply with a verbal “pfft.” Then we grin at each other.

“Well then.” Miller interrupts our fun by dropping a stack of fabric remnants onto the worktable. “You two have fun. I’m going to cut out early today.”

“You are?” I ask, surprised and a little panicked. I was counting on Miller to charm Bethany on my behalf. Or be a buffer or something. Teenage girls are terrifying. We do seem to be hitting it off though.

“It’s not like I’m on the schedule.” Miller raises a brow in pure Miller sarcasm. “Since I don’t work here.”

“But—”

“I think it’s better if you handle this on your own,” he says, lowering his voice and nodding towards Bethany. “It can be an exercise in how decisive you are.”

God, do teenagers ever forget anything?

I wave Miller off and turn to Bethany. Her face is bright as she flips through the scraps of fabric.

“Wow,” she whispers. “Are these all from designer gowns? That’s what Nana told me, anyway. I don’t know if Dad totally understands the concept but he’s definitely, really impressed with what you do,” she adds with a reassuring nod.

Is he? I’ve never dated anyone who was impressed by my career. What there is of it, anyway.

“Yep. If I tear something apart, I save every scrap because I always find a way to reuse them. Now, I don’t think we can get a full dress out any of these, but…”

“How about a bow tie?” Bethany suggests. “For Duke? Dad thinks he’s some kind of husky mutt but I’ve always suspected that Duke thinks of himself as pretty boujie. I bet he’d love a designer tie.”

“Yes!” I agree eagerly, because holy crap, this is exactly what the pet psychic was talking about! She said he wanted something to make him feel special and I think our one-on-one time at the farmers’ market was a great start, but this is next-level. “And maybe one for Gary. Or a catnip mouse so he doesn’t completely hate me.”

“Cats are pickier,” Bethany agrees.

I spend the next couple of hours helping Bethany create a pattern and cut out all the pieces we’ll need. I set her up on an older machine good for basic stitching to assemble, teaching her the tips and tricks I’ve learned over the years, and it’s honestly so nice to have someone to share this with. She’s a great learner, too, listening and asking all the right questions. Her questions also help me to ignore the sweaty, sexy man currently hard at work on my plumbing.

“So you make your own patterns?” Bethany asks.

I nod. “I’ll look up vintage ones for inspirations, but yeah, otherwise, it’s all me.”

“That’s so cool,” she says. “Nobody I follow on TikTok does anything this cool.”

I smile. I am cool. Cooler than people on TikTok, which seems like it