kid. Most of them, even Mrs. Purcell, welcomed her back to the quiet community in the Missouri countryside just before Kaylie was born. She was grateful for the welcome. For their acceptance of her and of Kaylie. She would not jeopardize any of that for a date with Alex Ryan.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want Alex to live down her reputation. But she didn’t want to see his face when he learned the kind of person she used to be. That she apparently still was, because the voice in her head telling her to go out on a date with Alex was Fun Paige. The Paige who acted first and thought about the consequences later. The Paige she’d promised herself she wouldn’t be when she had her own family.
She couldn’t afford to be that woman, not again.
Paige loosened her hands in her lap. It wasn’t even that she thought her reputation would smear Alex’s.
The problem was she didn’t want him to know, period. She liked knowing that when he looked at her he only saw the woman she was now. There was no shadow of the girl she used to be. No past for him to dredge up and use against her. For Alex there was only Paige-the-Mom or Paige-the-Teacher.
She wanted to keep it that way.
It was smarter that way. Smarter for her. Definitely smarter for Kaylie.
This was not the time to act impulsively but to come up with a plan and stick to that exact path.
Having a path and a plan was absolutely smarter.
Why did she keep repeating that to herself?
Paige tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked anywhere but at Alex, who leaned against the deck railing, feet crossed at the ankle, thumbs tucked into his back pockets. T-shirt taut over what had to be the best-looking set of pecs she had yet to see.
Nope, she was definitely not looking at him.
She had a plan: let Alex be Kaylie’s friend, watch him like a hawk—not in that way, in a motherly way—and assign him to the “friends without benefits” category she assigned nearly every man she knew.
“Paige-the-Woman stays up too late, hates washing her car and is probably a little too indulgent with her daughter.” She picked up Kaylie’s plate, still filled with veggies but with barely a smear of barbecue sauce left, and gestured at it for emphasis. “This is about Kaylie, remember? Getting to know her, building a relationship with her.”
“I’m not sure getting to know Kaylie precludes getting to know you. And, if you’re worried about veggie intake, you could always make vegetables a game.”
Paige laughed. “You read a parenting book, didn’t you?”
Alex blushed, which made Paige giggle harder. He was cute when he blushed. And he crinkled his nose when he laughed along with her.
“I might have read one, but it had some good ideas.” He followed her into the kitchen, carrying their empty glasses in his big hands. “You know, count the stalks of broccoli as the kid puts them in her mouth—”
“And wait for her to throw them up when she can’t chew all seven at once?”
“Okay, that might work better on peas. But there’s always the reward system.”
Paige rinsed the plates, holding in the urge to shake her head or dissolve into another laughing fit. Alex didn’t deserve that. He was trying. And parenting books weren’t bad, per se, it was more that living with a toddler in the real world meant being a little more creative. “So you’d have me bribe my daughter with M&M’s or a video game each time she eats her vegetables?”
“Reward, there’s a difference.”
“Tomato, to-mah-to.” She finished rinsing the dishes and stacked them in Alison’s dishwasher. “So, Kaylie eats her vegetables because she gets chocolate or something as a reward. To get her to finish her homework—”
“She has homework in preschool?” Alex asked incredulously.
“In theory.” Paige scrunched her brows together. What was her point again? Right, the reward system. “To get her to put her dirty clothes in the hamper—better reference?”
He nodded and