The Real Deal

“Manual labor never hurt a soul.”

“I know that, but it’s interesting that you’re singling out Theo.”

“I don’t know this guy from Adam,” he says. “I can’t help it if I’m a little protective of you.”

“But Dad, I do know him,” I say, and I’m keenly aware that my statement might seem at odds with the financial nature of my relationship with Theo—yet I feel as if I know him well.

“It’s my job to look out for my kids. You’re the youngest.” He squeezes my shoulder. “That means I worry about you the most.”

“But you don’t need to. I’m fine.”

He laughs. Then scoffs. Then scoff-laughs. “That’s a losing battle, puppy. I worry about your job, and whether it’s stable. I worry about you living in the city. I worry about the fact that men today are too busy swiping right or left or up or down or whatever it is, that you’ll get hurt.”

“There’s nothing to worry about at all,” I tell him with a smile, and it’s the truth, the complete truth, and nothing but the truth.

“But see, now you have yet another reason to like the city more than home,” he says, and the note of sadness in his voice sounds like a father’s lament. It’s also his admission—Theo is a threat to my parents because he ties me to New York rather than Wistful. That’s why they’ve been putting him through his paces.

“I’m okay. I swear.”

He drops a rough kiss on my forehead. “I know. I just don’t want you to be hurt.”

My parents don’t need to worry, since Theo can’t hurt me. When it’s not real, you can’t get hurt. A real boyfriend comes with too many risks. Real heartbreak. Real drama. As I turn into the kitchen, I tell myself I’ve been a good egg, a good daughter, by ensuring my parents have zero cause for concern.

But as I help my father prep the meat for the grill, whatever sense of possibility I felt earlier morphs into an uncomfortable kernel, a small pebble wedged in the toe of a shoe. Only I don’t know what to do about the small stone.

“Dad,” I say, squeezing his arm, “you don’t have to stress about Theo hurting me.”

He shoots me a skeptical look.

“He’s a good guy,” I add.

“Is he good to you?”

I nod resolutely. “He is. I promise. Can you try to ease up on him?”

“Maybe,” he says, but then he flashes a brief smile.

When my father heads outside to oversee the last batch of afternoon games—these are for the younger kids—I wander through the B and B front hallway to find Theo. I’m paying him good money to be mine. I ought to spend time with him, too. I find my sister first. She’s curled up on the couch in the reading room, the baby sound asleep on her chest.

My sister holds an e-reader and swipes a page. “Hey, Tess,” I say quietly.

She turns her face to me and puts her finger on her lips. I nod.

Quietly, I pad closer. “Do you want me to help with Andi?”

She smiles quickly; then it fades. “Mom asked earlier, too. But she won’t sleep without me.”

“You sure?”

“She’s kind of clingy.”

“That doesn’t sound fun for you.”

A quiet laugh falls from her lips. “I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘fun’ to describe my life right now.”

“It’ll get better soon,” I say, then blow a kiss to the sleeping angel. “Let me know if I can help. The offer stands.”

“Thanks. By the way, I think I was supposed to set you up with someone, but I can’t remember who. And besides, Theo seems cool.”

“He is,” I say.

She returns to her book, and I head out of the reading room.

But I stop short before I step into the living room.

His voice lands in my ears first.

“You’re sweet, smart, and kind,” he says, and his tone reminds me of how he spoke to me on the train. It’s got that rough, intense quality to it. Who the hell is he complimenting?

Doing my best imitation of a cat, I take a few quiet steps to the edge of the doorway. My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when I peek into the living room.

Libby stands behind the couch, a hand resting on it. Theo stares intently at her.

“You think so?” she asks, her brows pulled in a frown.

“Yes,” he says, banging the back of the couch with a fist. “You’re a great girl. I mean that in every way.”

I flinch. What in the ever-loving hell is he doing? Is he hitting on my cousin? A seventeen-year-old? My blood boils, and I clench my fists.

“You’re so sweet,” Libby says. “April is so lucky to have you.”

He shoots her a self-deprecating smile. “I’m the lucky one. And some guy will feel that way about you, Libby. But this guy is a dickhead. You deserve so much better.”

She nods and wipes a tear from her cheek as I step into the living room. “Hey,” I say.

Libby waves, and croaks out a hey. “Hi, April. Theo’s so great.”

“He sure is,” I say, and who’s the actor now? I have no clue what’s going on, but when Libby turns on her heel and heads to the back door, I stare at Theo with narrowed eyes.

He crosses the distance to me, his expression quizzical. “You okay, cupcake?”

The term grates on me for the first time. I lick my lips, draw a breath and try to make sense of what I just heard. I can’t, though, so I recite a line from his GigsForHire ad. “‘Openly hit on other female guests, including your sister and any girlfriends, wives, or great-aunts. Moms aren’t off-limits either.’” I park my hands on my hips. “What about jailbait nieces?”

His eyes widen, and he goes completely still; then seconds later, a laugh moves through him. A full-body laugh that seems to shimmy up his legs, quake in his belly, and spread to his face. He cracks up completely. “Are you serious?” He points a thumb in the direction of the deck. “You thought I was hitting on your brother’s seventeen-year-old daughter?”

“Well? Why were you telling her she was sweet, smart, and kind?”

“Because she is. And because I bumped into her in the hallway, talking to a friend about some dickhead who dumped her. I told her he wasn’t worth it, and someday she’d meet someone who treats her the way she deserves.”

Ohhhhhh.

He was being nice. He was being thoughtful.

It seems I jumped to a massive conclusion—a massively unwarranted one. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. “By the way, I’m not sure if I told you this when we first met, but sometimes I can act like a world-class idiot. Just in case that wasn’t evident, I wanted to state it for the record.”

“Funny, you didn’t mention that, but it’s kind of adorable to see.”

“Adorable or horrifying?”

“Sometimes they’re one and the same.” He reaches out to brush an errant curl from my face. “I just wanted her to feel better.”

I smile, a burst of pride surging in my body. I picked well when it came to Theo. He did something kind for my niece, who needed it. “That’s really sweet. You’re too sweet. Stop being sweet, or they’ll all like you too much.”

He wraps an arm around me. “Cupcake, that ship has already sailed.”

“Funny that I wanted you because of the bad boy mystique, but there’s a good guy who’s stealing the show,” I say, tapping his breastbone.

He glances furtively around, and presses his finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t tell anyone you think I’m a good guy.”

I laugh and give his words right back to him. “Theo, that ship has sailed.”

“Also, I can’t believe you actually thought I’d hit on your cousin.”

I shake my head, embarrassed. “I guess I figured the ‘start provocative conversations’ part came true, and I thought this one was becoming real, too.”

He laughs. “You made it clear you didn’t want the à la carte options, and I’m all about giving you what you want,” he says, and he drops a sweet but friendly kiss on my forehead.