The Summer of No Attachments (The Summer Friends #2) - Lori Foster Page 0,4

fought for breath.

Once they’d mostly recovered, Hope wiped her eyes. “Full disclosure. I never liked him.”

“You don’t like any men.”

“Not so! I like them just fine as long as they aren’t...”

“Don’t say it.”

“Assholes.”

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Ivey fought in vain to get it together.

Hope helped by stepping away and straightening her shoulders, smoothing her hair, tugging at the hem of her shirt—all in an effort to quell the humor.

Knowing she had to do her part, Ivey tucked flyaway spirals of her too-curly hair back into her band. “So.” She had to clear her throat twice to suppress the twitching of her mouth. “Did you want to ride together or separate?”

“We might as well arrive separately since we’ll be closer to where you live. It’ll save you from backtracking.”

“Then I’ll follow you there.” That way, they’d arrive together, saving Hope from any awkward moments. “Until then, it sounds like the waiting room is filling up, so we should get to it.”

They stayed busy for the rest of the workday, and with two emergencies they had very little time for lunch. A few hours before closing, a storm drifted in with clashes of thunder that shook the ground and bright flashes of lightning that split across the darkening sky. It made the animals more fractious, and the humans less agreeable. Poor Karen had to constantly mop the waiting room floor because Ivey, Hope and the two other techs stayed nonstop busy.

Ivey made a point of thanking her repeatedly, but luckily Karen was an upbeat sort who tackled every job with a smile. It took a lot to dent her buoyant attitude.

One day, she might have to expand her business, Ivey thought. Maybe take on another vet so she could have more time off. But for now, she enjoyed keeping things small. She knew everyone in Sunset, knew their pets and how they fared.

The only upside to being so swamped was that she had zero time to dwell on her failed relationship...

No. She hadn’t failed.

She’d reevaluated.

Knowing Hope waited for her, Ivey went to her office, grabbed her purse—and found she had a dozen missed calls and text messages.

All from Geoff.

With a small wince, she scrolled through the texts. They seemed to come an hour apart, lodged in and around phone calls.

Hey babe just wondering how you are

I called but you didn’t pick up. Busy?

Seriously, did he have no idea what hours she worked?

No reason to ignore me. That’s a bitch move.

Ivey’s eyes narrowed.

I might stop by your place after work.

I won’t be there, you jerk. And don’t you dare disturb my cat!

I think we should talk about this. Call me.

That one was from ten minutes ago.

She didn’t want to talk to him—they’d said it all Friday night and even if she’d been inclined toward second thoughts, he’d helped cement her decision with the ugly way he’d tried to blame her for everything.

So instead of calling, she texted back, Busy tonight. Then, so he wouldn’t accuse her of having a date, she added, I’m with Hope.

As soon as she sent it, she wanted to kick her own butt. She didn’t owe him explanations. So she added, Besides it’s over. Then she fought the urge to type Sorry.

God, being a nice person was a handicap when it came to ending things. Ivey shoved the phone into her purse and met Hope at the back door. Everyone else had already left.

“Are we running late?”

“By only a few minutes,” Hope said. “I called and he said it’s fine. He and his son just finished dinner.”

Together, keeping an eye on the stormy sky, they headed to their respective cars in the empty lot.

“So he has a son?”

“I guess.” Hope stepped around a puddle. “I don’t really know much about him, but if the guesthouse looks as good on the inside as it does the outside, it’s worth every penny of what he’s asking for it.”

“Then let’s hope it is.”

* * *

Corbin Meyer looked at his son—still a shocker, that one—and wished he could figure him out. Justin was tall for his age, long and lanky with chronically messy brown hair that resisted any sort of style, blue eyes full of resentment and distrust, and enough excess energy to power a locomotive.

Determining how to expend that energy in a constructive way would be a trick. A move had been in order, but Justin made no bones about his disgruntlement.

He probably wanted his mother back. In his heart, Corbin knew it was better that she’d bailed on the