Down Too Deep (Dirty Deeds, #4)(4)

Oh.

I didn’t know you had kids.



I frowned reading the texts. Did this guy not read my profile? I’d mentioned being a mom. Should I have bolded that information?

Forcing myself to stay positive, I typed my response. Maybe this guy still had potential. That Oh didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Yep. Two of them. Is 6:30 still a good time?

I’m really not looking for anything serious.



Translation: The thought of getting tied down to someone with kids disinterests me. This will only be a one-time fuck.

Disappointment came on swift, even though I should’ve known better. Every other guy I’d interacted with on CupidMatch.com had been a letdown, and seemingly only after sex. Nothing real or sustainable. It was my own fault for having any expectations here. But I was beginning to realize hope was a difficult emotion to turn off.

I believed in love. Why wouldn’t I have faith in it?

Not that I had any personal experience with it in terms of a relationship. I hadn’t been in love yet. Not real love. Crush-love, yes. The two voices booming from the living room were a testament to that. They were also the reason why I wasn’t as practiced in dating as other twenty-seven-year-olds. Being a mom took priority. But I tried to grab a date as often as I could. And even though the men of Dogwood Beach were turning out to be more frustrating than anything, I still put myself out there.

I was, however, beginning to regret the dating app route. That really wasn’t working out for me. And unless I became a different person, one who was looking for a meaningless hookup and nothing more, it wouldn’t work out for me.

I finished applying my mascara, then stood from my vanity stool as I typed out my response to this guy. A response that might not have been necessary, but just in case, I needed him knowing—I was no longer interested.

I’m going to have to cancel tonight. Thanks anyway.



By the time I walked down the short hallway that opened up to the living room, that app had been deleted off my phone.

“Uno out!” Olivia shrieked. She threw her playing cards down on the coffee table and pumped her fists into the air. “Whoop, whoop!”

“Aw, man! I was so close to winning.” Oliver collapsed sideways onto the sofa and punched the cushion. “I want a rematch, Livvy! You always win.”

“We can play tonight at Uncle Brian’s. I’ll pack the cards in my bag.”

“Good idea.”

“What if we did something else besides going over to Uncle Brian’s tonight?” I asked, stopping behind the sofa.

Olivia peered up at me. “But what about your date?”

“I don’t have a date anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t. I decided to cancel.”

“But you were really excited, Mama.”

“I know, baby, but sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them to.”

Olivia glowered, reaching into the back pocket of her shorts. She pulled out a pen and a small notepad, flipped it open to a page, and violently crossed something out.

“What’s that? What are you doing?” I tried to see what Olivia had marked off, but she closed the pad before I caught sight of it.

“I had high hopes for him,” she mumbled. She tucked her notepad away after sliding the pen through the rings. Then she took a seat on the coffee table and pouted.

I fought a smile. My daughter was a hopeless romantic as well. I wondered if she was becoming a little too invested in my personal life.

“What are we gonna do if we don’t go over to Uncle Brian’s?” Oliver asked, rolling to his back so he could see me above him.

“Well, I thought since today is your first official day of summer break, we should probably celebrate somehow.” I paused for dramatic effect, looking between the two of them. “And I am pretty hungry…”

“Can we go out to eat?” Olivia sprang to a standing position and held her breath. Her eyes doubled in size.

“Mom, can we?” Oliver asked, scrambling to his knees. “Please? Please!”

I knew this would make up for the change of plans. Even though my children loved going over to my brother’s house almost more than anything, they were practically addicts when it came to restaurant food. There was something about ordering off a menu. And because I kept us on a strict budget—a necessity since I was a single parent of two very active children who were always involved in some sort of extracurricular activity—I didn’t allow meals out very often.

“Get your shoes on,” I gave as my answer.

“Whoop!” Olivia punched the air. She fell into a fit of laughter when her brother stood up and shook his butt. The two of them high-fived, then raced each other for the front door, where their shoes were stacked against the wall.

“Can we go to Whitecaps?” Oliver asked.

“Sure. Wherever you guys want to go.”

“I want a burger. They got the best burgers.” He pushed his heel into his shoe and stomped the floor. “You know I’m right, Mom.”

“I want a burger too,” Olivia said, tying her laces.

I quickly shot a text to my brother, letting him know he was off the hook in terms of babysitting duty, and then I grabbed my keys and purse off the small table by the door. A large antique mirror hung above it on the wall. I checked my reflection while the kids finished getting ready.