Page 55 of The Snowflake Effect

Trading off romance and great sex to fit into Hilary’s view of what’s appropriate is me, once again, molding myself to be what someone else wants.

I turn the maybe-ashtray in my hand and run my fingers over Jackson’s words. “I am so wooed.”

“Glad to hear it. Just know it takes a lot for a single father to bring a woman into his life, and Kolton’s lack of effort with women makes me think he’s worried about how it all affects Jackson. I’d take things slowly. For now”—she searches the room until she sees Jackson—“I have to split. I have a tattoo appointment.”

I study her exposed flesh, unsure where she’ll squeeze in another design. There is, of course, the intimate skin below her corseted top and pedal pushers. I blush at the thought.

“Jackson,” she calls, “I’m heading out. Shay will take you to meet your dad at the library.” She hands me a small backpack.

With one last wipe of his table, Jackson walks over, takes my hand, and smiles up at me.

I return his smile, studying his sandy hair and warm brown eyes—similar to his father’s—and the trust in his small hand gripping mine. Stella is right. Kolton is risking more than me by pursuing us. Emotionally, at least.

Taking things slowly is definitely the smart move.

CHAPTER 24

KOLTON

I can’t remember the exact symptoms of a heart attack. Something about an uncomfortable pressure in the chest that comes and goes, like squeezing or fullness. I’m pretty sure there’s shortness of breath, too.

Either I’m about to drop to the ground, or seeing my son’s hand in Shay’s as they walk toward me in the library is messing with my blood flow. She looks stunning as always, but the relaxed fit of her ripped shorts and oversize T-shirt kicks her sexy up a notch. Jackson’s dog-ugly pottery is clutched in her free hand, his small backpack slung over her shoulder. He’s talking up a storm, and she tips her head back, those long curls bouncing as she laughs.

She stops in front of me, and the smile slips from her face. “Your kid’s really shy. You need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” I say, playing along with her sarcasm. “Hard to get a word out of him.”

Flipping the pottery in her hand, she holds it so I can read the center: Please date my dad. “You know anything about this?”

I pull my head back, feigning shock. “Jackson gave that to you? Wow…this is awkward. He was supposed to give that to his teacher.”

Jackson giggles and tugs on her hand. “No, I wasn’t. It was for Shay.”

She bats her eyes at me. “Didn’t peg you for the older-woman type. How very Oedipus of you.”

“Ee-di-puss?” Jackson says.

“Yeah, buddy, Oedipus. He was a Greek guy from a long time ago.” Who married his mother, I don’t say, because it’s creepy as fuck. I keep my focus on Shay. “I’m more of an Athena type. Goddess of war and wisdom. I prefer my women feisty and smart. So”—I nudge Jackson—“did it work? Did she give you her answer?”

Jackson sucks in a massive breath and heaves it out on a sigh. “Sorry, Daddy. She didn’t say. I think it was the red paint. I wanted to do yellow.”

Those heart attack symptoms return.

I knew it would take a while to break Shay, to get her to spend time with me this summer, but she’s holding out like a commander in the Thirty Years’ War. She hasn’t said a thing about the scrap of lace I saved from Aspen, or the note I wrote. No hint of cracking.

Looking at her now, though, with her breath coming faster and her brow creased, her eyes so full of everything she’s not saying, I’d say she’s leaning toward yes.

“Let’s sit for a bit,” I say, tipping my head toward a library table.

Jackson steps forward, attempting to pull Shay with him, but she doesn’t budge. “Actually,” she says, “I do have an answer.”

Forget heart attack. This is a full-on stroke. “Will I like it?”

She licks her lips. “I’m considering being wooed.”

“Considering?”

“Maybe you can pick me up from work tonight so we can discuss said wooing? I have a shift at Sass and Style starting at one-thirty.”