“I want pizza too,” Ashley chimed in.
“I’m sure you’ll like whatever she makes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Starla.”
“Is she your girlfriend?” Ashley drew the word out to a comical length, and Jared laughed.
“No. Just a friend.”
“How come we don’t know her?”
“She’s a new friend.”
That seemed to satisfy them. For the next couple of minutes, anyway, they sang along with the song on the radio. Then Mia said, “Is she Mom’s friend?”
Not hardly. He and Shelly had probably had the most amicable divorce in the history of broken marriages, and they remained committed to presenting a unified front to parenting the girls. But Starla would probably scare the shit out of his ex-wife. No doubt the girls were going to go straight home and tell their mom about Dad’s new “friend.”
“I don’t think Mom knows her,” he said carefully.
“Can I call Mom?” Ashley asked. She was the one most likely to get homesick for their mother’s house. Mia was the exact opposite—always wanting to call him when she was with Shelly, seemingly most content when she was near the animals at his place.
“Maybe after dinner, okay?” Jared watched Ashley’s expression in the mirror for any sign of an impending outburst or deluge of tears.
“Okay,” she said simply.
“Good girl.”
He really was a lucky guy, and he knew it—even if it was hard to remember at times. Usually those times were when his house was echoingly empty between the girls’ visits and all he was left with were memories. But Shelly was great about deviating from the visitation schedule whenever he asked. He saw his daughters way more than some of his friends were able to see their kids after a divorce.
There was the thought of one day, though, that loomed in the back of his mind, and he tried not to give it much consideration now since there didn’t seem to be much danger in its imminent arrival: the day Shelly began seriously dating some other guy she wanted to bring around Jared’s girls.
He didn’t think he would be okay with that. When it came to Ashley and Mia, he didn’t entrust their care to anyone except immediate family. Anyone. He didn’t expect Shelly to stay single forever, of course, but it was going to be hard. He dreaded it. Likewise, he was reluctant to bring other women around his girls, lest they get attached as they had to Macy. Starla, though, was a fluke. She’d caught him by surprise and he’d let her in. But it was all right. He’d let this onetime thing happen and that would be that. No harm could come from one night, could it? And no sense dwelling on things that hadn’t even happened yet.
Lost in his thoughts, he turned under the big arched JS sign that heralded his driveway, crossed the cattle guard, and began the long, slow drive toward home. The girls, completely forgetting they were having a guest, began pleading to ride their horses (“No, we’re having company”), go for a swim (“No, the water is still too cold and we’re having company”), and go for a ride on his new Gator (“No, we’re having company”). He had to bite his tongue to keep from slipping a “no-no word” in that last one. Ever since Ashley had exclaimed, “What the hell!” in front of his mother a while back, he’d tried to watch his language around them. His mom had only laughed about it, but still.
When he went around the final turn and his house came into view, a little black car already sat in his driveway. He grinned and glanced at the clock as he pulled up beside her; it was 6:47. Punctual. Even early. While he’d figured she would forget the whole thing, or that maybe her boast about her “mad culinary skills” was simply that: a boast.
“She’s here!”
“Is that her?” Ash’s and Mia’s exclamations layered over each other.
“Should be. Hop out and introduce yourselves.” And for God’s sake, don’t scare her off.
Starla’s shimmering blonde head popped out of her car as he climbed down from the truck. The girls hopped down one after the other from the passenger side. For reasons known only to seven-year-old sisters, they had to get out on the same side of the truck no matter which it was. Before he could even get a greeting out, the two of them had run around to Starla’s side of the car and were flinging a barrage of statements and questions at her. Lord. He hurried around and almost laughed out loud. The girl was backed up against her car door as if a couple of Dobermans were threatening her. Another minute and she might have been scrabbling for the handle and flinging herself back inside.
“Heel!” he called jokingly, and Starla looked over at him in relief, laughing.
“They aren’t bashful, are they?” she said, eyebrows nearly in her hairline.
“Not at all.”
“You look pretty!” Mia cried. “How did you get your hair pink like that?”
“I want pink hair!”