Home > Ready or Not (Ready #4)(47)

Ready or Not (Ready #4)(47)
Author: J.L. Berg

I chose not to reply, and she just laughed.

“We should throw a dinner party. Clare has been dying to have one for ages.”

“Don’t we have dinner together all the time?”

The instructor, a perky young redhead, tried to gather everyone’s attention toward the front of the room.

Who knew this many women actually enjoyed waking up this early?

“Clare thinks a dinner party sounds fancy. She loves to watch HGTV when Maddie is at dance class. She is constantly calling me with crazy ideas about dinner parties and new festive holiday decorations. The other day, she blew up my phone all afternoon with ideas for Christmas. Seriously, Liv, it’s August.”

Cupping my hand over my mouth, I leaned over and whispered, “Could it have anything to do with all the baby hormones running rampant through her system?”

“Oh, definitely, but try to tell her no. Go ahead. I dare you.”

I held out my hands in defense just as we were instructed to lie on our backs for some core exercises.

“Oh, no, I’m not stupid. Dinner party it is.”

“Good,” she whispered. “And bring the next-door hottie.”

~Jackson~

When I was younger, my father had loved watching old TV shows. The Andy Griffith Show, Lassie, and My Three Sons were some of his favorites. He’d said it reminded him of a simpler time during his childhood—when life was easier and people were far less cryptic and cynical.

Long before I was old enough to think that hanging out with my father was lame, I’d sit and watch these black-and-white classics with him, thinking about how differently people treated each other in the television world.

But I’d soon realized that it wasn’t just in TV shows. It was a way of life that had begun to die out. The simpler generation my father had so loved where people would help each other just for the sheer satisfaction of doing so seemed to be slipping through our fingers just like the old shows he used to watch.

Back before the world was a blur of cell phones and crunching data, people had moved at a slower pace, seeing the world and everything around them. Helping your neighbor had been a daily occurrence. It hadn’t been a burden but just a natural a part of life.

The morning after the dinner with the Prescotts, I silently drove my son across town, passing the camp he regularly attended. Instead, we drove across town and pulled into the driveway of Noah’s new best friend.

As we hopped out of my truck, I took a moment to look around. There was a mailbox in front with the last name James neatly printed in gold script. That morning when we came here to pick up Noah after he’d spent the night, I had no idea I was walking into a movie stars house. Apparently, a wealthy father wasn’t the only interesting fact when it came to Olivia Prescott.

From the outside, it looked like a typical upperclass all-American family home—nothing outlandish or overdone. The lawn was a vibrant green and well kept. Pink and yellow flowers lined the walkway, and I couldn’t help but look down to see what color mulch was hidden underneath the deep green leaves. Of course, it was regular brown mulch.

I shook my head and chuckled under my breath as we approached the door.

“You okay, Dad?” Noah asked as he pressed the doorbell.

“Yeah. You sure this is okay?”

“You spoke with them last night,” he reminded me.

“Yeah, I know,” I huffed.

Favors, a nice deed, helping out a friend—whatever it was referred to, I was having a hard time accepting it.

I guessed it was a product of my generation.

All last night, I’d agonized over taking Declan and Leah James up on their offer to watch Noah for the rest of the summer.

Who does that—offering to watch someone else’s kid for two weeks for free?

The James family obviously.

Before I had another second to reconsider, the door swung open, and I was greeted by Declan carrying their daughter in his arms.

“Hey there, Noah!” Declan exclaimed. “I’d give you a high five, but I’m pretty sure I have jam or…. something all over me.”—he pulled his hand closely to his face for inspection and Lily giggled. —“Anyway, I’ll spare you the sticky fingers.”

“Thanks. I mean, hi Mr. James. Thanks for having me over.”

“You can call me Declan, Noah. Connor is upstairs if you want to head up there.”

Seeing a clear escape route now, he said a quick good-bye over his shoulder as he ran through the door and up the stairs, disappearing immediately.

I chuckled, waving my clean hands at the little girl in his arms. She smiled shyly and snuggled into her father’s chest.

“Hey, Jackson. Good to see you again. You got time for a cup of coffee?” Declan asked.

“You, too and sure, I could probably squeeze in a few minutes,” I said, quickly looking down at my watch.

He invited me inside. Their house was impressive, but I hadn’t expected anything less.

“Hey, thanks for doing this,” I commented as we reached the kitchen. “You really don’t have to. I feel like I’m taking advantage here,” I rambled, watching as Lily squirmed out of his arms and ran off towards the living room we’d just passed through.

“No problem, man. We actually feel that way. You’re doing us a huge favor by letting us borrow Noah during the day. Most of Connor’s friends have been gone a lot this summer with vacation plans and what not. He’s been going a little stir-crazy. Having Noah here the other night was great.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. He’s been pretty bummed since we moved. It’s great to see him finally making a friend.”

“Yeah, they’ve really hit it off.”

He poured me a cup of coffee, and I watched him dump creamer and a heaping pile of sugar into his own cup.

He caught me grinning. “What?”

“Nothing.” I laughed, taking the sugar bowl from him and repeating the same treatment to my own cup of coffee.

“Liv give you shit about how you drink your coffee too?” he asked, as I pulled the steaming cup to my mouth. It was so sweet, my teeth nearly fell out as I took my first sip.

Perfect.

“No,” I answered.

“She will. I purposely try and sit next to her if we go out to breakfast just so she can watch me toss ten packets of sugar into my cup. The way her eyes bug out? Fucking hilarious.”

“I’ve never met anyone quite like her, that’s for sure,” I commented, with a slight shake of my head.

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