Gathered Up. Annabeth Albert

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СКАЧАТЬ supply for me as well, but that didn’t negate the fact that I really wanted into Evren’s designer skinny jeans.

      “I hate that word: hook up. I can’t promise not to…forget myself, but I think we are better suited as friends, yes?” he asked.

      I interpreted forget myself to mean flirting, and I liked that he was honest about it because that’s exactly what we’d both been doing from the first—him in his subtle, more refined way and me in my eager Oregonian obviousness.

      No. “I’m not promising not to flirt either.” I grinned at him. “But I’ll take being friends. Maybe show you around a bit if we both have time?”

      My vast, vast amounts of spare time consisted of the occasional uninterrupted long shower, but a guy could dream. As if laughing at me, my phone buzzed. My alarm for picking up the kids. “Oops. I gotta head out, Evren. Thanks for the coffee. And the friendship.” I stood and held out my hand.

      He shook it, and a most unfriendlike jolt slid up my arm. I was right. His hand felt amazing—solid and strong and warm. No matter what each of us said, we had some freaky chemistry.

      “My friends usually call me Ev. You can as well.” He said this solemnly, like granting me some privilege. And dang if I didn’t feel a little warm to be given it. Ev. I liked it. It suited him. And he suited me far, far more than I wanted to admit, but I still smiled all the way to the school to get the kids.

      * * * *

      Ev resumed his Americano habit, and most days if I wasn’t swamped, we chatted a bit. I told him about parks near where Mira was getting her treatments where he could walk and places to get cheap takeout when they were both too tired for cooking, and I tried to send him home with soup and cookies for Mira as often as he’d let me. For my part, over the last few years my life had narrowed down to only the kids and the job. And I loved both, don’t get me wrong, but it was blissful to get some adult conversation that didn’t involve child-care schedules or coffee orders.

      My shoulders seemed to be lifted by invisible strings when he reported getting a sandwich at the new little joint I knew about near the hospital or when he asked for a florist near there and I pointed him at an open-air market on Wednesdays. Playing tour guide by proxy for Ev gave me a weird sense of satisfaction—like I got to uncork a useful side of myself that hadn’t seen very much air lately.

      After about three weeks of this, one Friday I was working the tail end of lunch when Ev came in. He changed things up a bit, got a large chai for himself and a small one for Mira.

      “So, are you on mornings or evenings today?” he asked as I worked on Mira’s drink.

      “Morning. I’m off around two.”

      “Excellent.” He smiled widely, the hand that wasn’t holding his chai fiddling with the keys in his pocket. “Do you have dinner plans?”

      “Dinner?” Fuck. Fuck. I did indeed have plans. Renee had a friend’s birthday party. That left me with the kids and no babysitter.

      “Violet and some of the Knit Night ladies are taking Mira for a ‘girls night.’” He made air quotes around the term. “I hope she is up for a little dinner and fun, but it leaves me at a bit of loose ends because no men are allowed. So I thought—as friends—we could get that beer. Maybe you could show me a brewery with decent food and good local ale?”

      I knew exactly which brewery I’d love to take him to. And I also knew it wasn’t happening. “Sorry, Ev. I’ve got plans.”

      “Ah. Well, it was an idea.” He shrugged, but a shadow passed in his dark eyes, and I had a sinking feeling the offer wouldn’t be repeated any time soon. He turned to leave.

      “Wait. Ev.” I took a deep breath. I’d been enjoying being Brady the fun barista with Ev, but he deserved to know the truth about my situation. “I don’t have a date—not those kinds of plans. My sister does, however, and I’ve got to watch my younger brother and twin sisters.”

      “Ah.” He brightened a bit. “Your parents must be grateful for your help.”

      I made a hacking sound that wasn’t sure whether to be a laugh or a cough. “Nope. It’s just me. I’m raising the kids. My mom and stepfather died in a car accident.”

      “Oh, Brady,” he started, and I braced for the expression of pity sure to follow. “That is so sad of a loss, but how wonderful of a thing you are doing. You are keeping the family together, yes?”

      “Trying,” I said and looked at my shoes. “So that’s why I can’t go out. It’s hard for me to get away.” Try impossible. And nice as Ev was, I wasn’t sure about subjecting him to the chaos of the kids until our tenuous friendship was a bit firmer. Most guys our age saw kids as a huge drag, and I didn’t want to scare him away quite yet.

      “Hmm. You have your phone, though, yes? Perhaps you will tell me where I can get a decent burger, and I will call or text you how it goes. See how your evening is progressing.”

      It was a sign of how starved I was for adult contact that that sounded as good as a plate of wings and an icy brew. I quickly exchanged numbers with him before the next customer arrived and went home smiling. I had a date. Sort of. A phone date. A friends-only phone date, but it was more excitement than my Fridays had held in a long time.

      Chapter 4

      Dear friends, spring has come to Portland, and I find my adjustment has similarly perked up. Today, I am craving some local flavor—some craft beer and an organic burger with the sorts of toppings you only find on this coast. My tip for you today is to look for the local flavors wherever you are, and let your designs reflect what you find. Myself, I think I’ll be knitting something substantial with a hemp blend later. —Evren’s Yarnings

      “Brady! Morgan has more chicken nuggets.” Madison swung her feet back and forth on the battered blue chair she’d long ago claimed as her spot at dinner.

      “And you don’t! Nyah!” Morgan completed her taunt with waggling fingers in her ears and tongue out.

      “Madison. Morgan.” I slapped the bowl with the prepackaged salad down on the table. “You have the same amount. Madison, maybe tomorrow I’ll make you do the counting.”

      “Why does Madison get to count? I want to count!” Morgan’s hair escaped the half-hearted ponytail Renee had done that morning. Where Renee and I had Mom’s blue eyes and brown hair, the twins had Greg’s deep espresso eyes and kinky hair that defied all our attempts to keep it neat. Not that the ketchup mustaches were exactly helping the neatness factor.

      Lord deliver me. “We’ll take turns, okay? Everyone can count at dinner. But we all get the same amount. Please don’t argue about it.”

      “I wish we had like a zillion chicken nuggets.” Jonas’s dark eyes were wide with longing, too. At ten he was a bottomless pit, and my brain cramped just thinking about how expensive he was going to be to feed in the next few years. His feet were already almost the size of mine, and he’d have Greg’s height for sure. I took two chicken pieces from my plate and put them on his.

      “No fair!” Madison screeched, despite not having touched a piece herself.

      I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. In another universe, in another life, I was out with Ev right now, showing him my favorite brew pub, СКАЧАТЬ