Breath of Dawn, The by Kristen Heitzmann

crouched down beside Livie on the stairs and said, “Hi, sunshine.” Or when she tipped her head and added, “She’s stunning, you know. You’ll be fending off strapping young men with a stick.”
    “Didn’t realize that included scrappy young women.” What was with the edge?
    “Ha-ha.”
    Taking that as a joke showed a tendency to see the best in people, including insolent men. As she straightened, Livie watched with keen and innocent interest, another barometer in Quinn’s favor.
    “Is this where you’re living?”
    “Until I move.”
    “Right. As it happens, I was coming to ask Noelle how to find you.”
    He waited.
    “Salvation Army’s coming for the furniture, but I thought one or more of the old hutches and cupboards in the kitchen would look better with that asylum cabinet than something new.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Are you hustling me?” Buying the cabinet had been an experiment. Now she was hitting him up for more?
    “I mean I won’t have them take anything you want to use.”
    “Oh.” He’d misread her intention, but she didn’t back away or rise to the accusation, only corrected his error. This woman held her ground, unobtrusively. “We’ll come have a look.” He scooped Livie up, since her little strides would take two weeks to reach the house he had not begun to think of as his. Probably never would. It was a world between worlds. A waiting place.
    Quinn walked quietly, in the mode he’d first encountered instead of yesterday’s chattiness. She’d taken a clue from his rudeness then and now, and he felt a hint of remorse. There was no excuse for discourtesy, especially when she was only taking care of business. As they went in, he noticed the progress she’d made in the rest of the house. While it was still overcrowded with furniture, she’d radically reduced the clutter. Hard worker, Quinn Reilly.
    Livie said, “Down, Daddy.”
    He glanced at Quinn. “Do you mind?”
    “That’s your call.” She pulled the woolen cap off her curly hair. The stuff had a mind of its own but looked soft and shiny. “Remember, I bleach-treated the dining room for the mouse droppings.”
    “I’ll keep her out of there.” He did wonder, though, how risk averse Quinn was—a sort of thought he hadn’t entertained for quite a while. Appetite and curiosity. Had his brain begun the slow, grinding churn of a frozen engine starting again after long disuse?
    She led the way to the kitchen. “I’m sure you won’t want all of this, so pick what stays, and they’ll take the rest.”
    He took Livie’s hand and followed Quinn to the kitchen. The asylum cabinet stood exactly as he’d left it. The box of keys still perched on the counter by the sink. “Any luck with the lock?”
    Quinn folded her arms. “I haven’t tried.”
    That surprised him, especially since he’d freed her to. “Could be good to have a key.”
    “It could.”
    Quinn looked down at Livie, still enraptured by his child. He couldn’t really blame her. While he was not that guy who used his daughter as a babe magnet, Livie didn’t know it. She just shined.
    “I’ll keep that big mahogany hutch.” He pointed to the piece they’d pulled away from the cellar door. “To block the cellar back up, so Livie won’t even think about it.”
    She peeled a sticky note from a pad and stuck it to the wood.
    He looked at the other pieces, some pressed oak, some painted but still showing good bones. “Why don’t you sell the furniture? You could get something for these antiques.”
    “I’d have to haul and ship it.” She indicated her small stature. “Not happening.”
    “No one to give you a hand?”
    “I’m a sole proprietor.”
    Didn’t mean she couldn’t get help, but he let it go. “How’s it going downstairs?”
    “I haven’t started.”
    “Not to rush you, but my closing is scheduled for the end of next week.”
    She raised her brows.
    “It’s an uncomplicated sale. No liens or financing.”
    “I’m not