and Chloe happily swinging on the set Marv and I had built for her. Her family of Stitches sat on the table watching her—the original Stitch looking his age and definitely worse for wear. Or as Sam would say, “Well-loved.” I lifted him from the table, examining his many repairs.
“He needs to be retired,” Sam commented.
I chuckled. “Little guy brought us together. I owe him.”
“Our little matchmaker.”
“That he is. Without his penchant for getting lost, I never would have found you.”
Sam smiled. “Then I guess we better keep him around.”
“Yep.”
I took Sam’s hand, kissing the palm. “I can’t wait to see what the next six months bring.”
She laughed, leaning over to tuck Theo’s blanket a little higher. Then she pressed her hand to my face. “The time since I met you has been wild.”
I pretended shock. “What are you talking about? Don’t other people meet, fall in love, get married, have a baby, adopt a daughter, buy a house, move, and change jobs in a short time frame? That’s not normal?”
She smirked. “Maybe for us it is.”
“How about we chill, hang with our kids, demo a couple rooms, and just enjoy life, then? Try something a little different?”
“As long as it’s with you, I’m game.”
I leaned over, kissing her.
“Always, sweet Sammy. Always.”
Chapter 1
Jackson
There was a loud crunch of gravel as tires going too fast spun on the loose rock, shooting dust and debris into the air. Brakes squealed as a vehicle shuddered to a halt.
Someone was obviously in a hurry.
“Shit,” Tom muttered. “Heads up, Jackson.”
I glanced around and stifled a groan as the driver’s side of the large black pickup was flung open and a pair of shapely legs slid out, the delicate feet encased in shoes that had no business being close to a construction site. Those small feet marched my way, carrying the petite, dark-haired woman—the boss’s daughter—Laura Simmons.
“Jackson,” she greeted me, her tone caustic. “I was worried you’d perhaps fallen into a cement mixer or off the scaffolding when you didn’t return my calls. I’m thrilled to see you alive and well.”
I resisted the urge to laugh. I was pretty sure “thrilled” wasn’t the word she wanted to use.
I feigned surprise. “You called?” I made a show of pulling my phone out of my back pocket. “The damn thing’s been acting up lately. I must have missed your voice mails.”
She glared at me, crossing her arms, which pushed her pert breasts together, the hint of cleavage peeking through the vee of her dark-red shirt. I snapped my eyes away from the glimpse of the smooth skin and instead focused my attention on the tall man following Laura at a leisurely pace.
“Jackson,” he said with a tilt of his head and a smirk playing on his lips partially hidden by his heavy moustache. His gray hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his blue eyes twinkled in amusement. “Phone trouble again?”
I smirked back. “Damnedest thing, Hank.”
Laura snorted—a distinctly unladylike sound—and held out her hand. “Give me your phone, and I’ll take it into the Apple Store and have them check it out.”
“No, I’ll take care of it.”
“I insist.” She smiled sweetly. “It is, after all, company property.”
“No, really,” I ground out between clenched teeth. “I’ll take care of it.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Hank interrupted her. “Leave it. If Jackson says he’ll take care of it, he will.”
She snapped her mouth shut, those pouty, plump lips thinning out. Her blue eyes, the exact shade as her father’s, spoke volumes, though. They were shooting lasers at me, which I ignored.
“What’s up, Hank?”
“We need to go over the budget. I asked Laura to set up a meeting with you, but she was, ah, unable to get in contact. I decided to come see you, and she tagged along.”
“I understood you were out of town, Laura.”
“I got back early.”
“Awesome.” I nodded and turned back to Hank. “You want me to come to the office, or you want to do it here?”
“Come to the office after you’re done.”
“You want me to grab us dinner?”
“Angelo’s?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” Laura snapped. “No pizza for you, Hank! You know what the doctor said.”
He rolled his eyes. “He said to watch it, not that I couldn’t have pizza on occasion.”
“When’s the last time you had it?”
“Weeks ago—maybe longer.”
She pivoted my way, her hands on her hips. “Jackson?”
I held up my hands. “I’m not your father’s keeper. I have no idea what he eats.”
She pursed her lips, her foot tapping on the gravel, glaring at both