Page 22 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
“Mom!” I scolded at the same time Hunter shook his head.
“Oh, I’m not a professional. This is just an amateur hobby.” He looked to me. “You probably want someone with talent.”
“Oh, pish posh,” Mom said. “This could be a chance for you to refine your craft. How about this? You take some pictures and show them to Maisy. If she likes them, she’ll buy them. If she doesn’t, you’ll have had a chance to practice.”
“Mom, you’re being pushy.” I looked to Hunter. “I’m so sorry.”
He chuckled. “It’s fine.”
“Then you’ll do it?” Mom said, completely misinterpreting him.
“I, uh, don’t really know the area. I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”
“That’s okay. Maisy can show you around. Please, say yes? We’ve all been so anxious to see her rooms finally finished and she’s worked so hard. To see that old artwork in those rooms, it just breaks my heart. She deserves to have them finished just right.”
“Mother,” I muttered at the same time Michael said, “A little too thick there, Mom.”
Hunter looked to me and I shrugged. There was no arguing with my mother in the room, not when she was set on railroading Hunter and I together. Was this how Gigi had felt when I’d played matchmaker with her and Jess? If so, I was calling her the minute I got to the loft and apologizing.
“Come on, what do you say? Please?” Mom begged.
“I can’t promise they’ll be any good,” Hunter warned.
“Yay!” Mom cheered. “This will be wonderful.”
Before I could tell Hunter we could discuss the details later—and give him a chance to back out—Coby tugged on my leg. “Mommy, can I go play with Pickle now?”
My eyes dropped to Coby who was talking to me but looking at Hunter. Coby was normally a loud and energetic little boy, but with strangers around, he was shy. He must have been warming up to Hunter if he felt comfortable enough to speak up.
“Sure, buddy. One more minute.” I looked back up to Hunter. “This is Coby, my son.”
“Hey, Coby.” Hunter crouched down in front of us. “Nice to meet you.”
I watched Hunter’s face carefully as he spoke to Coby. The last time Hunter had seen my son was when we’d passed him by the vending machines. At the time, he’d given Coby an odd look, but now, Hunter’s face was nothing but gentle and kind. Maybe he wasn’t intimidated by my single-mother status after all.
“Can you tell me where you got that shirt?” Hunter asked. “Batman is my favorite too. Maybe the store has one in my size.”
Coby let go of my leg and puffed out his Batman-covered chest. “The package man gave this to me.”
The mailman was getting credit? No way! “Coby, I bought you that shirt. The mailman delivered it, but that was a gift from me.” Coby was convinced that the mailman was his biggest fan and the person behind every delivered present from Amaz
on.
Coby frowned up at me, then turned back to Hunter. “You could ask the package man to bring you one too. He’s really nice and good at giving presents.”
“I can’t win,” I mumbled.
Hunter chuckled and stood. “Sounds like a good idea. I’d better hit the road. Thanks again for dinner.” He said good-bye to Michael and Mom and walked to the door.
“Wait,” Mom called before he could escape. “When are you guys going to start on the pictures?”
“She’s nothing if not persistent,” Michael mumbled at my side.
He had that right. Mom wasn’t going to let Hunter out of her sight until this agreement was locked down tight and we had a firm date set.
“I’m free Sunday, if that works,” Hunter said.
I nodded, more excited for a Sunday afternoon than I had been in years. “Works for me.”
