Page 24 of A Simple Regret

I set him down and he immediately moves to the small bench sitting along the way and tries stuffing his feet into his snow boots.

“Wrong feet, silly Billy,” Maren says softly, dropping to her knees to help put his boots on the right feet.

Theo busts out laughing, throwing his head back and smiling so carefree and easy it squeezes my heart. “I not Billy. I Theo!”

“Theodore.” She makes sure his boots are right and velcroed on his feet before bopping him on the tip of his nose and adding, “Let’s get your coat and hat on.”

Theo jumps up and grins, helping his mom zip his coat. The moment his hat is on his head, he turns to me and proclaims, “I weady.” He walks over and takes my hand.

Maren slips her feet into her own snow boots and zips her coat before giving me her attention. “Ready.”

Before I step outside, I pick Theo up and settle him on my hip. “Let’s go.”

Maren follows me to where her vehicle is parked, and when I reach the driver’s side door, I find it unlocked. “Can you get in and try to start it?”

She does as instructed, climbing into the seat and trying to start the car. It acts like it wants to turn over, but doesn’t.

“Okay, Theo, wanna help your mama drive her car?”

He nods eagerly. “Yep!”

“Wait, drive my car?”

“Yep,” I tell her, handing her son over to her.

“What’s happening?” she asks.

“I’m going to push you to my garage.”

Her mouth falls open as Theo grabs the steering wheel and pretends to drive. “What? You’re going to push my car?”

“How else do you think it’s going to get over there?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I don’t know,” she starts, looking over at my garage. “Winch it over?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “I could, but it would take me longer to get the winch set up, and I’d still have to push your car over to my driveway, so this will just be faster. Ready?” I start heading for the front of her SUV.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Not hit my garage?”

She rolls those gorgeous blue eyes of hers, making me grin.

“I’m going to push you back toward my truck. When I move to the back, I’ll start pushing you forward. Crank the wheel, pull into my driveway, and center at the door. I’ll run in and open it and then push you through.”

Her mouth is hanging open a bit. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. Ready?”

“I guess,” she mutters. “Theo, you need to sit in the seat next to me, please.”

“He can stand up and drive,” I say.

“What? No, he can’t,” she insists.

I shrug. “It’s not like I’m pushing you fast, Shortcake. He’ll be fine.”

It hits me before realization crosses her face.