Fireman Dad. Betsy St. Amant

loud for a date?

      Not date—business outing, she corrected. In which case color shouldn’t matter. Too late now, anyway. She was already five minutes late after dropping Owen off at her neighbor’s.

      Marissa paused by a cotton candy vendor and scanned the open pavilion of shops for Jacob, willing the nerves in her stomach to settle. Although she often met clients outside the office to discuss party plans, it was usually at their homes or for a casual lunch. Never had she met a single, attractive male—in the evening. Alone. Did it give the wrong impression?

      A mild breeze cooled the perspiration on the back of Marissa’s neck and fluttered the hem of a child’s sundress as she ran past Marissa, clutching a tall cone of cotton candy. A teenage couple ambled by, holding hands, and a handsome man in a pale blue dress shirt leaned against the railing overlooking the colored water fountain a few yards to her left. He turned as if he felt Marissa’s scrutiny, and raised his arm with a smile.

      Jacob. Marissa’s breath caught and she clutched the thin strap of her purse. He looked different than he had the other day, more distinguished—yet still borderline familiar somehow. Dark hair, almost touching his collar, set off his tanned, healthy complexion, and a hint of five o’clock stubble dotted his jaw. He’d been clean-shaven last time she saw him.

      She couldn’t decide which look made him more handsome.

      At least he’d dressed up a little, too, which eased her apprehension about her own attire. Marissa made her way toward Jacob, hoping her smile revealed professionalism and not lingering nerves. She really should get out more if a mere business meeting set her off like this.

      “Hey, there.” Jacob’s gaze, seemingly electric against the blue of his shirt, drew her in as she joined him at the railing. A myriad of colored water sprayed cheerily into the air before them. If she didn’t know better, she would have found the setting more than a little romantic.

      “Hi. Sorry I’m a little late. Owen couldn’t decide what he wanted to bring with him to the babysitter’s.” Marissa braced her weight against the railing. “I had to talk him out of taking every toy he owns.”

      Jacob grinned. “If Owen is anything like my niece, I’d guess that wasn’t the first time you’ve had that conversation.”

      “You’d guess right.” Marissa relaxed under his appreciative gaze. “My mom usually comes over to watch Owen on the rare occasions I need to go out, but she wasn’t available tonight. Nanas tend to have more patience with that sort of thing.”

      “I know my parents spoil Olivia rotten. But she’s a good enough kid not to let it go to her head.” Jacob gestured to the row of shops to their right. “Shall we start with the plant nursery?”

      “Sounds good.” Marissa’s spine tingled at the light pressure of Jacob’s guiding hand as they turned toward the garden store. She’d been around attractive men before, but something about Jacob felt different. Unnerving, and a little foreign—in a good way.

      Maybe too good. He was, after all, her new client.

      They walked side by side past the storefronts. Jacob paused in front of a toy store window and grinned. “I’ve always found it funny how kids seem to instantly know which family member they can wrap around their finger the tightest. With Olivia, that person is definitely her papa—my dad. Of course, he never minds.”

      Marissa turned her lips up in a smile, but the motion felt forced. Hopefully Jacob wouldn’t notice. This wasn’t the time to get into a conversation about Owen’s lack of relationship with his own grandfather. But she couldn’t help the melancholy ache that spread across her chest. Memories of their argument from yesterday clouded her previously good mood. She pretended to study the collection of dolls on display until the heavy moment passed.

      “You okay?” Jacob turned away from the window toward her, concern etched in his expression.

      Marissa tried to brighten the plastic smile as they started walking again. “I’m fine. It’s that … Owen isn’t close to his grandparents. My mom, somewhat, but not my dad.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Which is partly my fault. I’m not close with my dad, either.” She looked away, sudden heat flooding her neck. Great, Marissa, why don’t you just plop your family issues right here on the cobblestones in front of him?

      “I’m sorry to hear that.” Jacob hesitated before pulling open the door of the nursery. “Would you like to talk about it?”

      Marissa shook her head abruptly. “No. Thanks, though. It’s not a big deal. I’d rather talk about the fundraiser.”

      “If you’re sure.” Concern lingered in his expression as he pulled open the door.

      It was sweet of him to care. But this wasn’t the time—and with him as her client, there would never be the right time. It simply wasn’t his business.

      Even if the sympathy in his eyes made her want to spill the whole story.

      Marissa took a deep breath and allowed the air-conditioning rushing through the open doorway to cool her flushed face. “Maybe this place will give us some ideas for what we’ll need to finish the festival. I’d really like to find a way to include the kids that attend.”

      “This nursery is one of the best.” Jacob pointed to a row of plants lining the far wall. The large store, built onto the end of a row of shops, featured an open greenhouse area in the back that was crowded with a variety of bushes and flowers. “I often buy here for my clients.”

      Marissa gently touched the red petals of a nearby Gerber daisy. “How long have you been in the yard service industry?”

      Jacob squinted as if mentally calculating the total. “Off and on, about ten years now, I’d guess.”

      “You must really like it.”

      “It’s not bad. Hey, look!” Jacob fairly tugged Marissa to a display at the end of the next aisle. “Olivia loves these mini-cacti. We could have a table at the festival set up with individual cartons of dirt for kids to plant in. Some of these minis don’t have sharp needles. We could set an age limit for the table.”

      “We could also set out gloves as a precaution. They are pretty cute.” Each tiny cactus had one or more equally small blooms in red, pink or yellow sprouting from the top of the plant. “I could see Owen liking something like this. He’s always digging in our flower beds with a spade.” She wrinkled her nose. “I say flower bed loosely. It’s seen better days.”

      “Kids and dirt are usually a winning combo, regardless of how worthy the flower bed.” Jacob winked. “These are on sale, and I get a discount here. If you want, I can come back and buy a few flats of the cacti to store at my house.”

      “That’d be great. I wouldn’t know what to do with them until the festival, otherwise.” Marissa stepped back as Jacob made arrangements with a salesman to reserve the cacti for pickup, then they headed back outside into the fading sunlight.

      “That went well.” Jacob checked his watch. “Where to next?”

      Marissa pointed down the row of shops. “We could check out the party supply store. It’s right around the corner.”

      They headed in that direction. “Any suggestions for Olivia’s big day?” Marissa asked. As hectic as her schedule was, she was looking forward to helping make the birthday girl’s party a hit. Girl parties were usually more involved, but also more fun—probably because it gave Marissa a break from the constant little-boy-world of superheroes, worms and fire trucks in which she daily resided.

      Jacob opened the door to the party store and motioned for Marissa to walk in first. “Olivia’s mom—Liz—suggested anything pink, frilly or princess. Pretty much everything I know nothing about.” He snorted. “If she wanted a superhero, however, I’d be her man.”

      Marissa grabbed a shopping basket and led Jacob toward the far right section of the store where the girlier items were located. “Closet