Page 46 of The Snowflake Effect

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “This rental car smells like that chili you bring to work, masked with a god-awful pine air freshener. If you don’t at least give me something to do, like expertly advise you on whether the stunt you have planned for Shay will blow up in your face, I might quit and move in with the McDonald’s man.”

“Me toooo!” Jackson shoots a hand in the air. “Daddy has to come, and we’ll all read the Gs in the Bri-ta-nni-ca book, ’kay? Or, oh”—he lowers his high-pitched voice into what he thinks is a whisper—“or the urban book, Aunt Stella. Right? Can we? I didn’t tell Daddy about the Banana Polish one.”

My foot jerks on the brake, and the car jumps. “Last I checked, Aunt Stella, I put that book down in the grocery store.” I flex my fingers around the wheel, keeping the car in control.

It’s bad enough Jackson is with us guys all the time, Sawyer and Nico treating my son like a locker-room buddy, but Stella is an island of her own. A blunt, filterless island. Still, she knows Jackson only eats red apples and has to wear two different socks. She knows how hard it is raising a kid on your own—her single mother deserved an award for weathering Stella’s wild teen years. Most important, her defense of Jackson’s quirks is mother-bear ferocious. When that little shit Evan started picking on him in school, she nearly got arrested.

She drums her fingers to “Let It Go” playing for the third time. “Kids are growing up fast these days, wonderful-secretive-boss-of-mine. I’m preparing him early, so when a scoundrel in his first-grade class asks if he wants his banana polished, he’ll have the sense to say no. Right, Jackson?”

I catch his fist pump through the rearview mirror. “Nooooo polish!”

She grins and says, “See? Trained and ready.”

“That book disappears tonight.” I try to sound severe, but my barely contained chuckle doesn’t reinforce the point.

“It disappears when you stop being all sneaky about these errands, boss.” Her emphasis on my title drips with sarcasm. And playfulness.

When Stella waltzed into Moondog for her interview three years ago, wearing a skintight dress and mile-high heels, and blatantly said it looked like a chimpanzee had organized my files, I hired her on the spot. Her résumé was flawless, and my office was a chaotic mess. Under that kaleidoscope skin is a smart woman.

A nosy, smart woman, who helps keep my head above water.

I glance into the rearview mirror as Jackson adjusts his glasses. “Should I tell Aunt Stella my plan to woo Shay?” I ask.

He twitches his nose. “What’s woo?”

I almost offer the proper answer—to make Shay fall for me—but that doesn’t fully apply to this scenario.

I need Shay to live in the moment, like I’m trying to do. Relax and have fun. After seeing her in my dreams for months, being within biting distance of her soft curves lately has sent all synapses firing. I get why she’s freaked out, why she panicked about her reputation and being taken seriously on her first big job, but I can’t quit pursuing her. Or being impressed by her.

It’s only been a week, and already the level of work she’s doing has proved hiring her was the right choice. Shay likely stays up all night working on her sketches, and Hilary pores over them each morning, her excitement evident with each approving nod.

And I’m blown away.

My first look at her rough designs in black and gray, bold splashes of deep purple and wine highlighting the assorted dragons and eagles flying through the space, took my breath away.

Dating me won’t impact her career. Nobody can deny what she’s creating.

She just has to see that in herself.

When my GPS announces our destination, I pull over, lucky to find a spot that can accommodate the boat I’m driving.

I swivel to face Jackson so I can answer his question. “Normally woo means to make someone like you.”

He frowns. “Like Evan? Do I need to woo Evan?”

Stella’s frosted pink lips flatten. “You need to shove that little⁠—”

“No,” I cut in, shooting her a warning glare. “Sometimes it’s best to ignore people who aren’t nice. The Evans of the world need to make people feel small to feel better. They aren’t the ones you woo. But if, say, a girl…”

“Or a boy,” Stella says, her blue eyes pinning me with judgment.

I sigh. “If you’re interested in spending more time with a girl, or a boy,” I add, knowing I’ll support Jackson no matter what path he’s destined to walk, “then you sometimes have to show the person more about yourself. In Shay’s case, I need to show her I’m interested in her for her. Not just because she’s pretty or good at her job.”

I’ve given Shay as much space as I could handle the past week. After fantasizing about her for months, seeing her now and going home alone each night is my own personal hell.

“How do we woo her, Daddy?”

“Yeah, how?” Stella puts her chin in her hands like an eager schoolgirl.