sleeping until morning.”
Wilder gestured to the four glasses lined up on the shelf. “Help yourself. Whatever you need.” He clamped his mouth before starting in on some “mi casa es su casa” crap and eyed his watch. His entire body prickled with awareness. The night hadn’teven properly settled and he wasn’t sure how he’d survive it.
Q UINN PRETENDED SHE didn’t notice Wilder’s covert watch check, but that didn’t fool her heart. The uneven lurch was a stupid physiological reaction because it wasn’t as if he had requested her company in the first place. She grabbed a glass and ran it under the tap, resisting the urge to splash her face and cool down. Good thingthe room was dark because a hot flush had permanently stamped itself on her cheeks.
She walked out of the kitchen space without another glance at the big male body slouched by the fire, and she entered the bedroom without a knock. Maybe Dad had just stirred in his sleep. Maybe he’d . . .
“Who are you?” he yelled, sitting straight up in bed.
“Hi, Dad. It’s Bizzy. Quinn. Your daughter.”
He didn’t answer with more than a grunt. He’d forgotten her name last of all. Maybe that fact should make her happier.
He thrashed with the comforter. “Get me the hell out of here.”
“Hear that wind?” She pointed to the roof. “There’s a heck of a big winter storm outside. Lots of snow. We can’t go anywhere. Have a glass of water and these pills and try to get more rest. You’ve had quitethe adventure today.” She held the glass to his mouth and exhaled when he swallowed in compliance. Took the pills without complaint.
“Are you hungry?”
His snort meant no.
Thank goodness Wilder had fed him earlier. The hot meal in his belly would help keep him comfortable and comfortable meant calm.
“How about you get up and use the bathroom before going back to bed?”
Dad mutteredsomething else unintelligible but grasped her hand as she led him out of bed, shuffling beside her in his strange, stooped posture.
“Excuse me,” she called to where Wilder was sitting. Or had been sitting. The rocking chair was empty.
“Yeah?”
He stood in the hall, behind her. Close enough she could smell pine, shaving cream, and the faint scent of honey. She fought the temptation toturn and burrow her face into his broad chest, sniffing deep and long. Instead, she refocused her grip on Dad’s hand.
“I need to take him into your bathroom.”
“I heard. I came to take him myself.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Your dad might not know what’s happening, but trust me, he’d rather not have his daughter watching him take a leak. It’s no big deal. The bathroom is offthe back. He’ll be out in a minute.”
She released Dad and he smiled at Wilder, offering his hand, looking so much like a trusting boy that it was almost impossible to swallow the knot in her throat.
Dad never went to a new person willingly.
Wilder must send out some sort of good vibe, some wavelength Dad picked up on. Or she’d spent way too much time on the California coast. Good vibes?Wavelengths?
“What’s so funny?” Wilder asked, back again with all his faint yet distracting manly smells. He stood, shoulders relaxed, casual, as if the two of them in a dark narrow hallway was no big deal.
And it wasn’t a big deal.
It wasn’t.
“Hey.” She cleared her throat, hearing Dad opening the door. “Do you have a book I can borrow? My dad likes me to read to him before bed.It might settle him down.”
“You know I have books.”
“I mean, may I use one for an hour or so. I don’t want to presume—”
“Shelves are through there.” He pointed. “My bedroom.”
She froze. “You stash books in your bedroom?”
“That’s where I read them so . . .”
Good lord, the man liked to read in bed too? The idea of his bare chest bathed in lamplight while he furrowed thatstrong brow over a hardcover created a flurry of butterflies that transformed into
Wilder gestured to the four glasses lined up on the shelf. “Help yourself. Whatever you need.” He clamped his mouth before starting in on some “mi casa es su casa” crap and eyed his watch. His entire body prickled with awareness. The night hadn’teven properly settled and he wasn’t sure how he’d survive it.
Q UINN PRETENDED SHE didn’t notice Wilder’s covert watch check, but that didn’t fool her heart. The uneven lurch was a stupid physiological reaction because it wasn’t as if he had requested her company in the first place. She grabbed a glass and ran it under the tap, resisting the urge to splash her face and cool down. Good thingthe room was dark because a hot flush had permanently stamped itself on her cheeks.
She walked out of the kitchen space without another glance at the big male body slouched by the fire, and she entered the bedroom without a knock. Maybe Dad had just stirred in his sleep. Maybe he’d . . .
“Who are you?” he yelled, sitting straight up in bed.
“Hi, Dad. It’s Bizzy. Quinn. Your daughter.”
He didn’t answer with more than a grunt. He’d forgotten her name last of all. Maybe that fact should make her happier.
He thrashed with the comforter. “Get me the hell out of here.”
“Hear that wind?” She pointed to the roof. “There’s a heck of a big winter storm outside. Lots of snow. We can’t go anywhere. Have a glass of water and these pills and try to get more rest. You’ve had quitethe adventure today.” She held the glass to his mouth and exhaled when he swallowed in compliance. Took the pills without complaint.
“Are you hungry?”
His snort meant no.
Thank goodness Wilder had fed him earlier. The hot meal in his belly would help keep him comfortable and comfortable meant calm.
“How about you get up and use the bathroom before going back to bed?”
Dad mutteredsomething else unintelligible but grasped her hand as she led him out of bed, shuffling beside her in his strange, stooped posture.
“Excuse me,” she called to where Wilder was sitting. Or had been sitting. The rocking chair was empty.
“Yeah?”
He stood in the hall, behind her. Close enough she could smell pine, shaving cream, and the faint scent of honey. She fought the temptation toturn and burrow her face into his broad chest, sniffing deep and long. Instead, she refocused her grip on Dad’s hand.
“I need to take him into your bathroom.”
“I heard. I came to take him myself.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Your dad might not know what’s happening, but trust me, he’d rather not have his daughter watching him take a leak. It’s no big deal. The bathroom is offthe back. He’ll be out in a minute.”
She released Dad and he smiled at Wilder, offering his hand, looking so much like a trusting boy that it was almost impossible to swallow the knot in her throat.
Dad never went to a new person willingly.
Wilder must send out some sort of good vibe, some wavelength Dad picked up on. Or she’d spent way too much time on the California coast. Good vibes?Wavelengths?
“What’s so funny?” Wilder asked, back again with all his faint yet distracting manly smells. He stood, shoulders relaxed, casual, as if the two of them in a dark narrow hallway was no big deal.
And it wasn’t a big deal.
It wasn’t.
“Hey.” She cleared her throat, hearing Dad opening the door. “Do you have a book I can borrow? My dad likes me to read to him before bed.It might settle him down.”
“You know I have books.”
“I mean, may I use one for an hour or so. I don’t want to presume—”
“Shelves are through there.” He pointed. “My bedroom.”
She froze. “You stash books in your bedroom?”
“That’s where I read them so . . .”
Good lord, the man liked to read in bed too? The idea of his bare chest bathed in lamplight while he furrowed thatstrong brow over a hardcover created a flurry of butterflies that transformed into
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