That seemed to make her smile, a real one that showed both of her dimples. “Great. I’ve written down things for you. My number and the number for the salon where I’ll be. Wi-Fi password. I wrote down Fisher’s number too, in case he forgets to give it to you. You have your grandparents’ contact information, and I’m leaving you the keys to my car and some money for gas and food.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to leave me money. I have money from Dad’s …” My nose wrinkled.

She blinked a few times before recognition ghosted along her face. “His life insurance.”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

We didn’t talk anymore about my dad or the money that I had, the money that would be given to me in increments as I got older, including money assigned to my college fund that I wasn’t sure I’d use.

We ate dinner. Watched TV. And turned in early for bed.

Four-thirty came too soon. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and stretched on yoga pants and an oversized tee.

“Coffee?” Rory asked.

I shook my head and yawned. “I might go back to sleep when I get back here.”

“Good idea. Let’s go then. Fisher has already carried my suitcase up to his truck, and he’s waiting on us.”

“K” was all I managed on a second yawn as I followed her out the door and around to the front of the house, where a white truck with Mann Construction, Inc. on the side of it waited for us.

“Morning, ladies.” Fisher smiled as I climbed into the back seat and my mom hopped into the front seat.

“Morning. I think Reese might be regretting her decision to ride with us to the airport.” My mom laughed.

“I’m good,” I said on yet another yawn.

Fisher and my mom chatted on the way to the airport while I grabbed a quick nap. When he pulled to a stop in the drop-off lane, I climbed out and stretched while he retrieved the suitcase from the bed of the truck.

“Take care of yourself, and take care of my baby girl,” Mom said while giving Fisher a big hug. “And remember … she’s my baby girl. Nothing more.”

What did that mean? Fisher winked at me over her shoulder. Really? What the heck was that all about?

I looked at him differently, knowing he wasn’t my mom’s boyfriend. I shouldn’t have, but it made him even sexier. My gaze ate up everything about him—that strong jaw with a permanent five o’clock shadow that showed his maturity, not like the young men in caps and gowns at my graduation ceremony with molestaches.

Blue eyes with thick lashes.

Messy, dirty blond hair peeking out from under his baseball cap.

Defined arms.

Just six-plus solid feet of strong man.

Who … wasn’t my mom’s boyfriend.