“Yeah,” Sam said.
“Me too,” Ben agreed. “Today was fun, Dad. I liked painting and having Dare and Haven visit.”
Slider had, too. And that surprised him, this apparently new ability to pull his head out of his ass. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
Both boys nodded.
“I think . . . I think we’re going to try to have more fun around here. What do you say?”
“Yeah!” Ben said with a jump that proved his cast held him back not at all.
Sam was more reserved, giving a whatever nod and shrug that Slider didn’t buy at all. He cared, he just didn’t think he should show it. What was it going to take to get through to him? Slider wasn’t sure, but today felt like a beginning.
And that was more than he thought he’d ever have again.
Cora hopped into Slider’s pickup truck where it had waited outside the clubhouse for her a hundred times, but this time felt different. In less than a week, he wouldn’t be picking her up here anymore because she’d be living with him.
“Hey,” she said, unable to suppress her excitement.
Sitting behind the steering wheel, he turned toward her. “Hey.”
Which was when Cora did a full-on, walk-into-a-sign, gobsmacked kind of double take. “Your beard. Your hair.”
His face—which she could actually see—slid into a slow smile.
And, baby Jesus in the manger, Slider with a fresh haircut and a clean shave was not just handsome . . . he was panty-droppingly hot. Like, she was half tempted to reach down and make sure her panties were still on, despite the jeans she wore. His hair was shorter on the sides and longer on the top, long enough that she could tell he’d raked at it with his fingers, which totally made her fingers jealous. He had cheekbones for days, and a dimple. A freaking dimple. Just one. But that smile showed it off enough that she couldn’t help but stare. “You have a dimple.”
He chuffed out a laugh. “I know. I’d almost forgotten.”
“Did you just laugh?” She reached for the handle. “I’m sorry, I think I’m in the wrong truck. I’m waiting for Slider . . .”
He rolled his eyes. “Giving me a hard time is not part of the job.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you met me before?”
Shaking his head, he put the truck in drive. But Cora couldn’t stop staring.
“Look that bad?” he finally asked.
“No. No, not at all,” she said, her face going hot at being called out. “It looks good. I didn’t mean to stare, but I—”
“You never have to apologize for looking at me, Cora.”
She blinked. Blinked again. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? Well, good. Better get used to it, Slider. Because you’re about a gabillion times hotter than I ever imagined. Can I lick you now?
Oh, my God. It was everything Cora could do to not bury her face in her hands at how far south her thoughts had just turned. And she was about to move in with this man.
The man who was her boss, with the kids, with the broken heart.
“Um, what did the boys think?” she finally asked.
“Liked it,” he said. “Said I looked younger. Apparently, they felt I’d gone Duck Dynasty on them.”
Chuckling, she nodded, drinking in her fill of him again since he’d given her permission. His face in profile now was killer. Not just because of the high cheekbones, but because of his angular jaw, too. And the kids weren’t wrong—getting rid of the beard had taken at least ten years off his face. Although maybe it was the smile that was doing that. Either way, something seemed different about Slider, and it wasn’t just the makeover.
Back at the Evans house, Cora had barely walked into the living room before the boys each grabbed a hand and pulled her up the steps.
“What’s going on?” she asked with a laugh.
But Slider just shook his head and followed them up, something close to a smile playing around his lips. Full lips. Lips that had a little scar on the bottom right that distracted her to the point of wanting to taste it.
God, what was wrong with her?
But she didn’t have a chance to answer that, because just then, the boys tugged her to a closed door at the end of the hall and told her to open it.
Whatever it was, she’d never been in this room before, so she opened it like a clown might jump out at her.
Sam reached in and flicked on the light switch. And all Cora could do was gasp. The smell of fresh paint hung lightly on the air, which meant . . . they’d done this for her.
“Go in!” Ben said, giving her a little push.
Cora walked in like it was a museum. Quietly. Reverently. Not touching a thing. Her gaze went from the big bed, covered in a beautiful and fun blue and white comforter with a kind of bohemian medallion-and-floral design, to the lamps with their pretty crystal bases, to the soft-looking, cream-white area rug with a light blue design all through it. A bay window looked out onto the side yard and a cornfield beyond, and another window offered a view of the front yard, together making the room bright and cheerful.