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Trading art lessons for your landscaping expertise. Is this another one of your hormonal pregnancy things? Miraculous as it may seem to you, I can procure my own dates, and she will not be a friend of yours. Get yourself another chump, or should I say hump, and leave me out of it. No matter how crazy he was about her. No matter she was eight months pregnant and apparently delusional. Without her kids interrupting, yelling, throwing toys everywhere, the place was downright eerie.
Strange, that he preferred chaos to quiet. He had too much silence in his life as it was. Terrific capper to a bad day. He settled her on the couch, placing a SpongeBob SquarePants pillow behind the small of her back. Val was a pro at this pregnancy stuff. Too quickly. False labor is pretty low, even for you. An emotional connection usually proved pointless. Few women looked beyond his dirt-covered clothes, his unimpressive job, his long hair and even longer hours. Romance rarely entered the world of dirt.
No wonder he was still single. Give me a chance to explain the details? Jesus, Val. This is insane. Even for you. His face went stern. Her hazel eyes stormed, and she seemed too angry to speak. He should be so lucky. This pal of yours would need to be Picasso and a nympho to pay for the sheer amount of dirt work it needs. Your life.
Your missed opportunity. That house would be perfect for the Maxwell Landscaping Competition. Nathan had rectified that situation. This opportunity was too good to pass up, even if he was busy as hell. Utility work paid extremely well. But pretty as his septic systems seemed to him, they did not qualify for awards or generate lucrative city contracts. It did seem like his golden chance. Val was doing that puppy-dog-eye thing—a last resort because it always worked.
He scrubbed his hand over his stubbly jaw and groaned defeat. Round one: meddlesome sister. You win, even though you fight dirty.
Especially with the rapt manner in which she studied the tiled floor, as if she could actually see her pink toenails beneath her extended belly. He tipped her face up to meet his gaze. Tate is so sweet. Nathan felt choked by the sudden silence. And the sudden possibilities.
Sweet usually meant shy, right? How could he lose? He grinned.
Where did Val come up with this stuff? Undaunted, her friend Val shifted her pregnant belly. She broke the chocolate bar in half, sucking at the apricot filling oozing over her finger. I never understood that whole grunge thing. You have the perfect man. How mature. Val smiled.