The Liar

“Sounded good this morning.”

She stopped on her way to get her Callie bag when Griff stepped out into the hallway from her old bedroom.

“Sorry, what?”

“You. You sounded good. Singing in the shower.”

“Oh. It’s a handy rehearsal hall.”

“You’ve got pipes, Red. What was the song?”

“I . . .” She had to think back. “‘Stormy Weather.’ It’s the forties.”

“Sexy in any decade. Hey, Little Red.”

He crouched down when Callie bolted up the stairs. “Mama’s going to work at Granny’s. I’m going to Chelsea’s ’cause Gamma works today, too.”

“Sounds like fun all around.”

“Can we have pizza?”

“Callie—”

“Deal’s a deal,” Griff interrupted. “I could go for some pizza tonight. Tonight work for you?” he asked Shelby.

“Well, I . . .”

“Mama, I want pizza with Grrr—iff.” To seal it, Callie climbed into his arms, then turned her head toward her mother, smiled.

“Who could say no to all that? That would be nice, thanks.”

“Six work for you?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh, well, car seat. It’s easier if we meet you there.”

“Right. Six o’clock. Have we got a date?” he asked Callie.

“We gotta date,” she said, and kissed him. “Let’s go, Mama. Let’s go to Chelsea’s.”

“Right behind you. Thank you, really,” Shelby said when Callie started down again. “You made her day.”

“It’s making mine. See you later.”

When he walked back into the work space, Matt raised his eyebrows. “Moving in on the local talent?”

“One step at a time.”

“She’s a looker. Got herself a very complicated life, bro.”

“Yeah. Good thing I’ve got tools.” He picked up the nail gun. “And know how to use them.”

He thought about her throughout the day. He couldn’t think of a woman who’d intrigued him more—the contrast of the sad, cautious eyes and the quick smile when she forgot to be careful. The seamless way she handled the kid. The way she looked in snug jeans.

It all worked for him.

He almost thought it was too bad the job was moving along so smoothly. A few glitches and he’d have more time to see her for a few minutes every day.

But Ada Mae was no Bitsy. When she decided on a tile, on a color, on a fixture, she stuck.

He had time to go home, clean up, change. A man didn’t take two pretty females out for pizza smelling of job sweat and sawdust. It would be an early evening, he calculated, with a three-year-old along. Which was probably for the best. He could put in a couple of hours on his own job.

In fact, he thought he might move his focus to the bedroom. A man didn’t bring a pretty female home to bed when that bed was an air mattress on the floor.

He fully intended to bring Shelby home to bed. When she and the room were ready for it.

He drove into town, snagged a parking spot on the street just a few doors down from Pizzateria. And deemed his timing perfect when Shelby got out of her minivan two spots up.

He strolled up as she lifted Callie out of the car seat.

“Give you a hand?”

“Oh, I’ve got it. Thank you.”

“Hey.” He heard the tears in her voice even before she turned with Callie in her arms and he saw them welling in her eyes. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Oh, it’s just—”

“Mama’s happy. She has happy tears,” Callie explained.

“You’re happy?”

“Yes. Very.”

“The combination of me and pizza doesn’t usually bring women to tears.”

“It’s not that. I was just on the phone. We were a little early as Callie was so anxious. And the realtor called. The house up North, it’s sold.” One of the tears spilled down her cheek before she could brush it away.

“Happy tears,” Callie announced. “Hug Mama, Griff.”

“Sure.”

Before she could evade, he had both Shelby and Callie wrapped in a hug.

He felt her hold stiff for a moment, then just melt.

“It’s just such a relief. It’s like a mountain fell off my shoulders.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’re definitely celebrating. Right, Callie? Happy pizza.”

“We don’t like the house. We’re glad it’s not ours now.”

“That’s right. That’s right.” Shelby took a breath, leaned in just one more moment, then straightened. “We don’t like the house, not for us. Now somebody who does like it has it. Very happy pizza. Thank you, Griffin.”

“You need a minute?”

“No. No, I’m good.”

“Then give me the girl.” He hefted Callie into his arms. “And let’s get this party started.”

12

The kid was a charmer, entertained and engaged him—and flattered him by insisting on sitting next to him in the booth.

He might have had a moment or two wishing the mother would flirt as overtly as the daughter, but a man couldn’t have everything.

It was a nice break to his day, between the job and the project.

When the manager came out, pulled Shelby from her seat for a hug, he examined his reaction.

Not jealousy, not exactly, but a kind of inner “Careful there, buddy” as he waited to see just what was what.

“I kept missing you.” Johnny Foster, a man with a sly smile and an easy manner, kept his hands on Shelby’s shoulders to take a long look. “But here you are now. Didn’t realize you knew Griff.” Johnny slung an arm over Shelby’s shoulders as he turned to Griff. “Shelby and I go back.”