Love to Hate You (Hope Valley #9) - Jessica Prince Page 0,29
woman so happy, which was really saying something, because she lived in a perpetual state of bliss—that wasn’t totally due to the special brownies she made on occasion—as far as I could tell.
I’d heard one story after another about her gorgeous, talented, fiery niece. She’d told me about her from childhood to adulthood. Most of the stories were sweet or funny, but I’d also gotten an earful of her niece’s piece of shit ex and bitch of a best friend.
I knew Sylvia well enough to trust her judgment in most everything, especially people, and if she said her niece was good people, I had no doubt. And if she was anything like her great-aunt, I couldn’t imagine how a man could ever step out on that, unless he was lower than scum.
Several weeks back, I’d helped Sylvia move from the big house to the small, converted carriage house near the back of the property, and since then, she’d gotten the idea in her head that her niece and I would be an incredible match, saying constantly that we’d hit it off in an instant. It was a notion I’d tried strongly to dissuade her of.
“How’s she and her girl settling in?”
“Oh, just wonderfully,” she answered, her face glowing with pride. “Making friends, getting the house in order, and my darlin’ girl’s taking to the shop like a seasoned pro, just like I knew she would.” She stopped waxing poetic, and her happy expression fell into a frown. “Although, this weekend was that rat bastard’s weekend with sweet little Ivy, so that hasn’t been very easy. But my girl, she pulled through. She’s one tough cookie.” She arched a single brow knowingly, and added, “And very attractive.”
“Sylvia,” I said sternly, “not this again. Like I’ve told you a million times, I’m not the kind of man you want your niece tyin’ herself to. Trust me.”
Her expression was full of exasperation. “Micah Langford, as I’ve told you a million times, you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit. You’re a good man. I don’t buy for a second that you’re the Lothario you’re known around town to be.”
She’d seen the women coming in and out of my house more than I’d care for her to, so she knew better than anyone that wasn’t true. “Sweetheart—”
“If a man wasn’t a good man, he wouldn’t start caring for the little old lady’s lawn next door without bein’ asked. You did that. Woke up one day and you were just out here, cutting and edging like my yard was yours.”
It was ridiculous to think Sylvia could handle maintaining a yard her size. The lots in our neighborhood were massive, the houses set far back from the street so the front and backyards were huge. Sylvia was a deft hand at all things gardening, so I let her handle that, but I took care of the grass, keeping it cut to a manageable length at all times, as well as fertilizing in the fall and spring so it always stayed lush and green. Every month for the past three years now, Sylvia had won Yard of the Month, and every month she insisted I stand with her when they took the picture to include in the town’s little newsletter.
“Well, who else is gonna do it? I wouldn’t expect you to get out here with a push mower by yourself. You keep yourself healthy, but that shit’s dangerous for you. And those punk-ass kids in the neighborhood charge a small fortune.”
“Because you’re a good man. You’ll see. One of these days, you’ll meet a woman who’s gonna knock you on your behind, and you won’t know what to do with yourself. Personally, I can’t wait to see that happen.”
At that, my mind wandered for a moment, and I saw Hayden’s smile. I pictured how she’d looked back at that bar in Richmond when she’d laughed with abandon.
“Unless . . .” Sylvia dragged out, pulling me back into the present. Her eyes were narrowed in intrigue as she studied me closely. “You’ve already met her, haven’t you?”
“What are you talking about? Of course not,” I semi-lied.
“Goodness me,” she cooed, placing her palms to her chest. “You have! I just saw it written all over your face. Can’t say I’m not disappointed it wasn’t my girl who got you there, but I am happy some lucky woman’s finally caught your eye.”
“All right. This conversation’s over. You need to get back to your yoga, and I need to mow your lawn