Kris Fletcher - Picket Fence Surprise

“Tough, kiddo. You hit Lulu last week and now me. Not good.”

Tiny pink lips quivered.

“No. Hitting.” He squatted in front of her and tweaked her ponytail. “And no complaining when you do something and have to face the music.”

She searched his face and broke into a slow, sunny grin.

“Guess I’m not so good at taking my own advice, am I?” He returned to his chair, picked up his bowl. “I’ve been doing a lot of complaining myself. I’ve gotta move forward. Stop whining. Go with my gut.”

My gut is the last thing I need to listen to.

“You know, Cade, Heather didn’t send me her résumé.”

Cady picked up her second cracker and waved it in the air. “Rawr.”

“Technically, I don’t think giraffes roar, but what the hell.” He shoveled in another bite. “Maybe I should drop her a line, remind her that I was serious about the offer.”

The giraffe giggled.

“What? It’s a friend thing. Perfectly legit.”

Lulu barked sharply.

Xander sighed. “Yeah, I know, girl. It’s probably not a good idea.”

But Heather knew all about his past. It had never stopped her from hanging around with him at the North events.

“Of course,” he mused, “there’s a big difference between goofing around in a group and...and whatever.”

But she was so easy to joke with.

“And if I ask her out and she says no?” he asked Lulu. “I bet there’d be lots of jokes at Thanksgiving dinner after that.”

Yeah. Bad idea.

He tossed his bowl in the sink and grabbed a washcloth. Cleanup time. That was what mattered at this minute: cleaning and chattering and singing and pushing all thoughts of Heather from his mind.

It would have been a lot easier if she hadn’t been wearing those shorts.

* * *

HEATHER LOOKED AT the résumé on her laptop and blew out a breath of pure exasperation.

“All the years I’ve put into building you up, and this is how you thank me?”

It wasn’t a bad résumé. She was still objective enough to see that. It was a solid, administrative-type, semi-impressive recounting.

It was also as boring as a piano recital when your kid wasn’t one of the performers.

She grabbed her weekly bottle of root beer, raised it to her lips and breathed in. Ah, sweet bliss. Was there anything in the world that couldn’t be improved with root beer?

Then she blew out across the top of the bottle in a steady stream, making a sound much like a flute with indigestion.

In addition to the laptop, her kitchen table was littered with every book on writing résumés that the Comeback Cove library possessed. She hadn’t thought to check the publication dates until she got home and found that most of them still focused on the weight of the paper that the job applicant should use, and how to ensure that even the envelope left the right impression. Because every application still had to be snail mailed. Right.

Maybe it wasn’t as boring as she thought. She’d probably just been staring at it so long that she’d lost all perspective.

Which meant that, really, the best thing she could do would be to find some fresh eyes.

“Son of a sea biscuit.”

She slumped back in her chair, arms sagging, and stared up at the ceiling.

He made the offer totally voluntarily. It would be perfectly fine to shoot him an email and ask him to have a look.

Except...

Except she thought maybe he’d been scoping out her butt at the picnic.

In and of itself, that wasn’t a problem. She’d been checked out before, usually by guys who had their own theory as to the proper way to welcome a new transfer to the office. She had long ago perfected the fine art of saying no while keeping things friendly and light.

Except that deep down, beneath the logic and the sense, she kind of liked the idea of Xander finding her hot.

Nothing could ever come of it, of course. It didn’t matter that she liked hanging out with him at birthday parties and such. Or that when she bumped into him in town, she always walked away feeling a little happier. Or that watching him sneak peeks at her from behind the camera had made her want to assume the classic arms-back-head-tilted-breasts-forward bikini photo pose.

Or even—maybe mostly—that when she was with Xander, she felt like she was with someone who could understand how it felt to be living your second chance.

None of that mattered, though. Because she had spent the last hunk of her life easing her way back into Millie’s world, building a working relationship with Hank, doing everything she could to smooth the waters and prove that she wasn’t the same terrified woman who had thought that the best way to protect her child was to put most of a continent between them.

She was logical now. She thought things through and knew how to stop and step back and evaluate situations with her head, not her gut. She had systems and schedules and safeguards in place to ensure that she would never, could never play hell with Millie’s life again, even accidentally.

Doing anything more than sneaking a few peeks at Xander would be like typing up her schedules and systems and having them translated into Esperanto.

“Not because he went to jail,” she said out loud, because if any aliens were tracking her brain waves, she wanted them to be clear on this. “That’s not a selling point, but it’s workable.”

No. The issue was that Xander was too close. Too much a part of Millie’s extended family, and even more so in August when Darcy and Ian got married, and Millie and Cady became official stepcousins.

At least that was how Heather thought they’d be related.

A...whatever between her and Xander would be uncomfortable for everyone. It would shift the dynamics, and probably not in a good way. And when it ended—which was inevitable, given that she knew Xander was looking for Ms. Forever while Heather identified as Ms. Been There, Failed That, Never Again—it could get messy and lead to major awkwardness.

For herself, she could handle awkward. Seriously. She’d had plenty of practice over the years, what with attending events with her ex. And then his new wife. And now their new baby.

But Millie didn’t need that. Ten, even almost eleven, was way too young to have to deal with shifting loyalties and adult drama. Millie deserved peace and love and ponies and flowers, and a mom who made life easier instead of more complicated.

But if Heather wanted to be the mom Millie deserved, she was probably going to need to change jobs.

Which meant she really needed a kick-ass résumé.

Which meant that since most of her other trusted friends were her work contacts, she really should take Xander up on his offer.

Argh.

Quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, she typed up the email.

“Business business, see attachment, all business, thank you very much, I owe you forever—no, scratch that, business—and, send.”

There. There was no way anyone could mistake that for anything other than a grateful acceptance of a generous but semiprofessional offer. Not a hint of flirtation to be found.

At least, not until an hour later when she read his reply.

I took a quick look. I have suggestions, but it’s probably easier to do this in person. Are you busy tomorrow? I have Cady, but if you come over around naptime, I can give you my undivided attention.

Oh hell.

* * *

PROMPTLY AT 2:00 P.M. the next afternoon, Xander looked up from the front step where he was waiting and spotted Heather riding what seemed to be an ancient pink bike up the street. She looked athletic, like she had energy to burn.

Not that he could think of any way to help her expend that energy. Nope. He was operating in a strictly advisory-friend-helper capacity today, doing his duty and offering his suggestions and then moving along, all before naptime ended.