She nodded. "He's with the manager."
"What's he doing there?" He glanced over Jess's shoulder.
He'd only met the old guy once when he'd filled out an application two years ago, prior to moving in. Since he fixed any of the repairs that came up inside his place on his own and dropped his rent in the slot in the door every month, he never had a need to seek out the manager.
"He was invited to have dinner, and I was asked, too. Can we stay and eat?" Jess's hold on his shirt tightened. "It's spaghetti and garlic bread."
"We're having pizza," he said.
"Dad, we can have pizza any night. It's spaghetti." Her eyes rounded as if someone offered her one of her three wishes. "Please?"
He couldn't deny his daughter something as simple as a dinner that he had no idea how to cook. "You and Travis can eat dinner with the manager. Remember your manners."
"Dad." She groaned. "I always do."
He grabbed her arm when she moved away to go back inside. "Let me thank the manager first before you interrupt his evening again."
"Her," said Jess.
"Huh?"
"The manager is a lady." Jess shook her head. "Didn't you know that?"
"No." He walked with her. "I must've met her husband when I got the apartment."
He also wanted to talk with Travis and make sure they were on the same page about him running off every time he turned his back.
At the open door, he held Jess back from barging in and knocked. A few seconds later, Travis walked to him from inside the apartment.
The tangy aroma of sauce greeted him. His stomach growled.
"Dad, did Jess ask you?" Travis patted his flat stomach. "Can we stay?"
"If it's okay with the manager, but only if you wash your dishes afterward. Don't leave a mess behind." He grabbed the back of his son's shirt and brought him closer, lowering his voice. "We're going to have to talk about you running off. That's not going to fly with me."
Travis frowned and looked at his feet. Their mother had let them both run wild, and while he understood what it was like being a teenager, he needed to know what they were doing and where they were going. It hadn't hit them fully that they'd lost their mom, and when reality came crashing down, he needed to know he could get to them.
One minute, they were kids, acting like kids, and the next, they were rolled in a ball crying. He couldn't predict what emotion would come out next, and he wanted to be close in case they needed him.
"Are you listening?" he asked.
"Yeah." Travis shrugged his shoulders, breaking away from Wyatt's grasp.
"Alright, now go tell the manager's wife that I'd like to thank her for inviting you both to dinner."
Both of his kids went inside. Out of his view, they talked to someone behind the kitchen wall. There was still a lot to do before his mom picked up the kids in the morning and kept them at her house for the night, giving him a break. The last two weeks seemed like six months. This time, he wasn't going to drown out his problems during his break. He needed to whip the apartment into shape and get control of his life. Hopefully, it'd help the kids settle in better.
A woman walked around the wall toward him. Surprised not to see an old woman shuffling to the door in her house slippers and pushing a walker, he ogled her stride—enhanced by bare legs and feet. His gaze traveled up her body to a half-shirt football jersey that hid nothing. If she shifted and raised her arms, he'd be able to see the swell of the underside of her breasts peeking out from the bottom of the shirt.
"Hello," said the woman.
He raised his gaze to her face. Caught off guard, expecting someone else, he stared. She looked familiar, but if he knew her, he would've had her. There was no way he'd let a woman looking like that walk away from him.
He held out his hand. "I'm Jess and Travis's dad."
She hesitated and then rushed to shake. "Joey."
"Joey?" he murmured, tilting his head. "Do I know you?"
"We..." She looked over her shoulder into the apartment, then faced him. "No. I don't think so."
He grunted, unable to stop staring. She was wrong. He'd met her. Give him a few minutes, and he'd figure it out.
"The kids are welcome to stay for dinner." She hooked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I can't make a small amount of spaghetti to save my life. There's more than enough."
"Nice of you." He gazed at her blue eyes. "Send them home when they've helped you clean up."
"Oh, that's not necessary." She inhaled deeply and raised her brows, waiting for him to either continue the conversation or leave her to get back to the kitchen.
Because he still hadn't figured out where he'd met her before, he said, "Are you the daughter of the manager?"
Her gaze softened. "Granddaughter. My grandpa passed away almost seven months ago. He left me the apartments, and I decided to move here and manage the business."
"Sorry to hear about your grandpa." He cleared his throat, understanding why his kids were drawn to her.
Joey looked to be around twenty-five years old. She spoke softly and appeared upbeat. It wasn't only the spaghetti that attracted the kids to stay.
"I'll let you get back to dinner." He stepped back. "Thanks again."
"You're welcome," she said softly, then closed the door.
He looked back at the apartment. Dayum.
His kids were the lucky ones tonight. A pretty woman. All her attention. Eating with Joey was probably the best thing they'd gotten to do in a long time.
Chapter 6Joey
AEROSMITH PLAYED ON the boombox in the kitchen. Joey reached behind her and grabbed her ankle, stretching her quadricep. She'd slept awful last night.
She needed to loosen all her muscles before heading over to the bar. So as not to piss off the same players each
