Page 18 of Finding Home (Willow Valley #1)

EIGHTEEN

CHLOE

W hen the day ends, I walk the kids out and immediately spot Mrs. Simpson waiting for Lila. We smile at each other, and I make my way over to her.

“Well, if it isn’t the girl who’s moved in with my grandson and great-granddaughter,” she says in greeting, and my cheeks heat as I look around to see who heard her.

“Hello, Mrs. Simpson. How are you?” I ask, trying to move the conversation along from my living situation.

“I’m happy my grandson found someone he trusts with his daughter. He wouldn’t have moved you in if he didn’t.”

This time, I notice a nearby mother look over at us, and my blush deepens.

“Well, looks like you’ve got Lila and are all set,” I say, taking a step back. “I’ll see you in the morning at drop off.” Before I can turn around and head back inside, Mrs. Simpson grabs my wrist.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner? I’m sure you’d love the company with Everett on shift and the house being empty.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own. I’m used to it. I’ve been living by myself for a while now.”

She waves a hand in front of her. “I won’t take no for an answer, girl. We’ll see you at six o’clock sharp for dinner,” she says before taking Lila’s hand and leading her to her car, leaving me mouth agape to watch after her .

I quickly head inside and text Brinley.

You free to meet at Grounded Bliss?

Sure. I can be there in thirty, just need to wrap something up at the office.

I take a deep breath and pocket my phone, quickly doing a few last-minute things before jumping in my car and heading over to the café, hoping to grab my favourite table.

Walking into the café, I smile at Taylor behind the counter. She greets me warmly, and I order a blended coffee and coffee cake and take a seat in the corner that gives me a good look out over the lake. As Taylor drops off my order, Brinley slides into the seat across from me.

“Would you like your usual?” Taylor asks Brinley, and she smiles warmly at her.

“That’d be lovely. Thanks, Taylor.”

She nods and heads back behind the counter, and Brinley wastes no time jumping right into our conversation.

“Okay, what’s up?”

I shove a bite of coffee cake into my mouth and swallow.

“Mrs. Simpson has insisted I come over for dinner tonight with her and Lila after mentioning not once, but twice, outside the school that I’ve moved in with Everett.

” I sigh and slide down in my seat. “My mom has also insit-vited Everett and Lila to dinner at their place, and I may have mentioned something to him last night about being hot.” I quickly put my straw between my lips and take a sip to busy myself as Brin processes the information.

“Family dinner,” she says, trying to hold back her grin. “Sounds fun. Cozy, even.”

I attempt to kick her under the table, but she reads that a mile away and moves her leg. Taylor drops off her order, and Brinley hands her cash as we offer her a smile and I sit straight in my chair again.

“Everett also asked me today if I’ve ever dated or slept with Ryder, so that was interesting.”

Brin starts choking as she pats her chest. When she’s gathered herself, she asks, “He asked you what?”

I lean forward on the table. “He saw me in the field with the kids during recess and came over and asked if I’ve ever dated or slept with Ryder. I full-on laughed in his face, which didn’t seem to please him much. I told him Ryder wasn’t my type.”

“Please tell me he asked what your type is!”

I nod and bite my lip, holding back my smile at the memory of how happy I was when he asked.

“What did you say?” she asks.

“I said I tend to lean towards the quiet broody type.”

“Please tell me there’s more and you’re just trying to build the suspense.”

I shake my head. “No. I just left him standing there.”

She leans back in her seat and stares at me.

“You’ve got that man chasing you. The only reason he would have asked about Ryder is if he was jealous.

He would only ask you what your usual type is if he wanted to see if he was it, and seeing as you lied to him, I’m guessing you were hinting that he is your type, at least right now. ”

My jaw drops. “I didn’t lie to him,” I say indignantly.

Brinley tips her head back and laughs. “Honey, if I had to encompass your type in two words it would be golden retriever. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know both you and Ryder and the fact that he’s basically a brother to you, I would also guess that you two would be together.

Not that Ryder deserves someone as good as you. ”

“Ryder isn’t as bad as you make him out to be,” I say, and she huffs.

“You’re completely skipping over the fact that I said Everett does not seem like your usual type and you in fact lied to him.”

“What if I don’t have a type?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Every single person you’ve dated has been a golden retriever, you have a type.”

I roll my eyes .

“Okay, what about Everett makes him your type?”

I put my drink down on the table and run my finger through the condensation, my eyes focusing on it and not my best friend.

“He’s good with Lila. Watching them together and the way the two of them love each other is special.

He’s willing to do anything for his family.

He picked up and moved to Willow Valley for his Grandma.

He may speak mainly in grunts, but I know he listens.

I don’t feel like I’m talking into a void when I say something to him. ”

“Oof,” she huffs as she sits back. “You’re falling, girl.”

I shake my head vigorously. “Nope. Not falling. Can’t fall. I can guarantee he doesn’t do relationships, and I’m not doing some fling that can be the centre of small town gossip for the winter until something new and scandalous takes over.”

“Whatever you say,” she says.

“Why did I even invite you out if you were just gonna be like this? I should have called Aspen or Lennon.”

She chuckles. “You would have called them if you wanted someone to tell you everything’s going to be okay.

And as much as we love them both, we both know shit’s going on with Lennon and James even if she won’t tell us about it yet, and Aspen is either planning her wedding or wrapping her head around Beau being back.

That means neither of them are in the advice-giving headspace. ”

I throw my balled up napkin at her. “Why do you have to be right?”

She puckers her lips and air kisses me. “You love me.”

“Yeah, I do,” I sigh. I check the time and jolt up. “Shit. I need to head to Mrs. Simpson’s.”

I kiss Brinley’s cheek as I go to leave, and she calls, “Have fun,” over her shoulder, and I shake my head as I push out of the café.