veggies and the rest of the organic goop Hannah called food. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
“You’re not responsible for me. Just Jason.” She squirted more cleaner, then swiped vigorous circles onto the granite. “I’m not happy about the setback, but that’s life. At least it’s only stuff that’s destroyed.”
She talked a big game, but he could hear the defeat in her voice. God, he yearned to hug her, hold her close to comfort her. But he didn’t because that might lower his ability to think clearly and keep things sex-free while he figured out how to win her over.
But still, the night he’d crossed that line stirred his blood. Heat pumped low. He cleared his throat, imagined diving into the Arctic Ocean to ice down his randy thoughts. “Tomorrow I’ll call Kennedy to make sure she puts fixing your boutique at the top of her company’s list. I’ll check in with them every day,” he said after a beat of silence. “All you have to do is worry about restocking your supplies and making sure the water and fire mitigation goes as scheduled. You’ll reopen on time.”
“I hope so, but this is my dream, my future, not yours.” She bit her bottom lip, pausing briefly before speaking again. “I won’t accept your money.”
Frustration tracked down his spine one painful step at a time. Why did Hannah have to make it so hard to do the right thing? “Consider it a payment towards making up for missed child support.”
He popped a dishwasher detergent tab into the holder, hit the control panel’s buttons to set the wash cycle, and closed the door. A bit harder than necessary, but he needed to drive out the sexual frustration along with the guilt for having missed out being there right from the beginning of Jason’s life.
“Your parents have helped...” her voice trailed off and she looked away.
His muscles clamped at the base of his neck. He still couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that his father had become Grandpa of the Year. Not when Steven had been less than stellar in the parenting department.
“He’s my son, not theirs.” He crossed the floor to Hannah, paper towels bunched in her curled fist. “He’s my responsibility. If you’re not happy, then he won’t be happy either.”
She released the towels and swooped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “There’s no way your money can fix everything. Who knows? Maybe I won’t be able to reopen in time for the Memorial Day celebration of the historic district’s renovation. That’ll mean months of work down the drain. Or more accurately,” she said ruefully, “up in smoke.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she banked them. Still, he could see her vulnerability trembled beneath the surface of her stoicism. That, and her oh so tantalizing scent of peaches and cream, undid his resolve to keep his hands to himself. He closed the scant distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. ‘You’ll be okay. Everything will work out in time.” He caressed her stiff back, smoothing his palms over her soft T-shirt, trying to ease her tension while desperate to bank his growing desire. “I promise.”
“All of his special stuffed animals, his first pair of shoes and the ceramic cross my parents gave him after we christened him—they’re gone,” she whispered, her voice ragged and shallow. “The quilt your mom made for him. His baby pictures... they’re all ashes or beyond repair.”
His throat felt tight, raw with emotion. Though Caleb had experienced his share of loss amidst the brutality of the battles he fought overseas, the destruction wrought by bombs and guns and chaos beyond comprehension, he had neatly compartmentalized his experiences as being part of the job he had been called to do. But this? He couldn’t pop the picture of what might have happened into a box to distance himself from the nightmare.
He tightened his hold, felt her shoulders loosen. “I know my money can’t replace all that
“You’re not responsible for me. Just Jason.” She squirted more cleaner, then swiped vigorous circles onto the granite. “I’m not happy about the setback, but that’s life. At least it’s only stuff that’s destroyed.”
She talked a big game, but he could hear the defeat in her voice. God, he yearned to hug her, hold her close to comfort her. But he didn’t because that might lower his ability to think clearly and keep things sex-free while he figured out how to win her over.
But still, the night he’d crossed that line stirred his blood. Heat pumped low. He cleared his throat, imagined diving into the Arctic Ocean to ice down his randy thoughts. “Tomorrow I’ll call Kennedy to make sure she puts fixing your boutique at the top of her company’s list. I’ll check in with them every day,” he said after a beat of silence. “All you have to do is worry about restocking your supplies and making sure the water and fire mitigation goes as scheduled. You’ll reopen on time.”
“I hope so, but this is my dream, my future, not yours.” She bit her bottom lip, pausing briefly before speaking again. “I won’t accept your money.”
Frustration tracked down his spine one painful step at a time. Why did Hannah have to make it so hard to do the right thing? “Consider it a payment towards making up for missed child support.”
He popped a dishwasher detergent tab into the holder, hit the control panel’s buttons to set the wash cycle, and closed the door. A bit harder than necessary, but he needed to drive out the sexual frustration along with the guilt for having missed out being there right from the beginning of Jason’s life.
“Your parents have helped...” her voice trailed off and she looked away.
His muscles clamped at the base of his neck. He still couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that his father had become Grandpa of the Year. Not when Steven had been less than stellar in the parenting department.
“He’s my son, not theirs.” He crossed the floor to Hannah, paper towels bunched in her curled fist. “He’s my responsibility. If you’re not happy, then he won’t be happy either.”
She released the towels and swooped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “There’s no way your money can fix everything. Who knows? Maybe I won’t be able to reopen in time for the Memorial Day celebration of the historic district’s renovation. That’ll mean months of work down the drain. Or more accurately,” she said ruefully, “up in smoke.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she banked them. Still, he could see her vulnerability trembled beneath the surface of her stoicism. That, and her oh so tantalizing scent of peaches and cream, undid his resolve to keep his hands to himself. He closed the scant distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. ‘You’ll be okay. Everything will work out in time.” He caressed her stiff back, smoothing his palms over her soft T-shirt, trying to ease her tension while desperate to bank his growing desire. “I promise.”
“All of his special stuffed animals, his first pair of shoes and the ceramic cross my parents gave him after we christened him—they’re gone,” she whispered, her voice ragged and shallow. “The quilt your mom made for him. His baby pictures... they’re all ashes or beyond repair.”
His throat felt tight, raw with emotion. Though Caleb had experienced his share of loss amidst the brutality of the battles he fought overseas, the destruction wrought by bombs and guns and chaos beyond comprehension, he had neatly compartmentalized his experiences as being part of the job he had been called to do. But this? He couldn’t pop the picture of what might have happened into a box to distance himself from the nightmare.
He tightened his hold, felt her shoulders loosen. “I know my money can’t replace all that
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