gaze to my hands holding her arms. “So … are we done?”
“Yep.” I released her and retreated two steps, maintaining my cheerful smile as if I didn’t just get shot down in my attempt at bonding with my only daughter.
After slipping into my jogging pants and sweatshirt, Meadow and I waited outside for Amie. Ten minutes later, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call her only to find a missed message from her.
Amie: Sorry, client emergency. Have to cancel this morning.
Dropping my phone back into my hoodie pocket, I ventured down the driveway, turning north instead of my usual route going south. The air bathed my skin in its fall crispness, and snow still blanketed most of the ground, making my walk a little tricky in icy spots. Taking the first right, I trekked up the gradual hill toward the dead end where the Davidsons lived. Their daughter, Amber, was two years older than Bella, but they had become close friends through youth group at church.
My pace slowed as I recognized the pickup truck parked just off to the side of their driveway, where they kept their fishing boat during the summer. To my knowledge, Randall and Anna were in Arizona. They owned a place not too far from where my parents lived. Bella hadn’t mentioned Amber being home from college for Thanksgiving break, but it was possible.
Still, it didn’t explain why Kael’s truck was parked there. The front door opened, and I shuffled to the side, yanking on Meadow’s leash and hiding behind a tree. He stepped outside, toolbox in hand. Amber followed him with a blanket wrapped around her body and boots on her feet. Kael hoisted his toolbox into the back of the truck and turned toward her.
She stepped closer to him as if personal space meant nothing to her generation. Her lips moved, speaking words I couldn’t hear. Then she smiled, gazing up at him. He returned a smile and nodded several times.
They were standing too close for comfort—not how one would stand next to a guy who did something like hang a picture or fix a leaky faucet.
Amber took another step into him, leaving no more steps to take, forcing his back to rest against the driver’s door to his truck. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Amber spoke again. Kael lifted his gaze and glanced around. When he returned it to her, she lifted onto her toes and kissed him.
“What … the … fuck?”
He didn’t seem to move. I couldn’t tell if he kissed her back. It was too quick. He sure didn’t push her away or turn his head. I was in too deep. Really … I really did not want a boyfriend or a relationship. Just the sex.
Amber had to be … twenty, maybe close to twenty-one. He was thirty. I was forty-two. Overthinking the age gap didn’t work in my favor. That didn’t stop the anger from brewing. I wasn’t sure if my anger stemmed from him allowing her to kiss him. After all, we weren’t anything. He could’ve had sex with a different woman every night.
Maybe that was it. Maybe I was upset that he was having more sex than me. Nothing stopped me from finding other guys to have sex with.
Okay. That wasn’t true. Epperly had a population slightly under twelve hundred. And I knew just about everyone, and everyone knew me. It was basically like fishing in your own fish tank for dinner. Sure, there were single men in town, but once I took out the ones I would never have sex with, the ones that would never keep their mouth shut about it, and the ones I felt confident weren’t carrying an STD—it left me with two, maybe three options including Kael Hendricks.
Brian Hosier was an attorney in town. He divorced five years earlier. Craig hired him for things like our will and rental contract advice. He was in his late forties with a mostly full head of hair and jogged every day.
Mike Holmes, a fifty-something banker who lost his wife to breast cancer nearly a decade earlier, squeezed into the final spot. However, Mike had a gait issue. I remember overhearing Melinda, his wife, talking about him to a friend at the cafe. She said, “I married an old man, but he’s only thirty-seven. Why must he take such small, short steps? He’s average height. It’s just not normal or manly.”