Finding Home (13 page)

“Unlike Gram, I don’t use the dining room. Would that work?”

“Perfect. I can bring over some archival supplies from the office tomorrow.”

“Why don’t I give you the spare key? You can come and go as you please while you sort through everything.”

She hesitated, playing with the zipper pull on her jacket. “I don’t want to intrude on your home.”

“It’s Gram’s home. I only moved back in to save money on rent and for security reasons. An occupied house is less appealing to burglars. And I guarantee Gram will approve of the idea. She liked you.” He closed the lid of the dome-topped trunk.

She did the same with Elijah’s. “I wouldn’t want to mislead her about...us.” Based on the sudden uncertainty in her voice, her excitement had morphed back to nervousness.

So Gram’s matchmaking had, indeed, unsettled her more than she’d let on earlier.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been up-front with her from the beginning. She knows there’s no romance involved.”

Why not?

He saw the question in the glance she tossed at him, and he stared back at her as she averted her head to hide the surge of color on her cheeks.

How about that?

He’d meant to reassure her with the statement. Up until now, despite the chemistry zinging between them, he’d gotten her clear keep-your-distance message. And it had dovetailed nicely with his vow to avoid women with young children.

Now this.

Did she realize she was communicating longing...invitation...loneliness...with her eyes?

She brushed her fingers through the dust on top of the lid. “I guess we’d better put that pizza in. Those Hershey’s Kisses aren’t going to hold Jarrod much longer.”

Though she seemed to be trying for a casual, conversational tone, the slight quaver in the last word gave her away.

He took a deep breath, fighting a sudden urge to take her in his arms. Hold her close. Stroke her hair.

Kiss her.

Not smart, Walsh.

Gritting his teeth, he kept his hands occupied by pressing his fingers to the floor to steady himself.

When he didn’t respond, she twisted toward the collapsible stairway and started to rise to a crouched position in the low-ceilinged attic. But in her haste to escape she caught the toe of her sport shoe on the edge of one of the rough flooring planks and tottered.

Instinctively, Scott swiveled toward her and caught her upper arms, stabilizing her. She dropped back to her knees, facing him.

Mere inches away.

He got lost in her deep blue irises as he inhaled her appealing scent. Traced the faint sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Felt her quivering beneath his fingers.

Somewhere, deep in the left side of his brain, logic was shouting at him that a dusty attic wasn’t a romantic setting. That he was making a mistake. That he needed to back off.

Yet he couldn’t curb the impulse to lift his hand and touch the gossamer softness of the hair framing her face.

Cindy drew in a sharp breath—but she didn’t move.

Pull back! Now! Before it’s too late!

The urgent command echoed in his mind.

He heard it. Knew he had to follow it. Otherwise, he’d put two more hearts at risk.

Summoning up every ounce of his discipline, he clenched his jaw and prepared to back away.

That’s when Cindy leaned into his hand.

The pressure of her cheek against his palm was subtle—and perhaps unconscious.

But it was an invitation nonetheless.

Then her eyelids drifted closed.

Scott’s lungs stopped working. Willpower only went so far. He wasn’t made of steel.

Giving up the fight, he leaned toward her. Close. Closer. A whisper away. His own eyes closed. One more second and...

“Hey, Mom! Where are you?”

Cindy gasped and jerked back.

“Mom?”

Color high, Cindy yanked her gaze from his and scrambled toward the opening in the floor. “Up here, h-honey. In the attic.” She twisted and swung her legs over to the ladder, descending as fast as she could.

And she didn’t look back.

But Scott’s pulse continued to gallop.

Man.

Sitting back on his heels, he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

What on earth had just happened? How could his resolve to keep his distance evaporate with one touch?

He didn’t like the answer that presented itself. But neither could he dispute it.

After a mere two weeks, he was attracted to Cindy—big-time. And the temptation to let things escalate, to test the waters, was escalating.

But what if he gave in to it only to have the electricity between them fizzle? Cindy would be hurt, and Jarrod had already suffered one loss that had turned his world upside down, sent his grades into a tailspin and necessitated counseling. What would a second loss do to him?

He couldn’t pursue Cindy. It was too risky—and selfish.

Plus, he didn’t need any more guilt in his life.

Suddenly weary, Scott pulled the chain on the light and crossed to the opening in the floor. As he started down the stairs, the murmur of conversation drifted from the kitchen, Cindy’s musical tones mingling with Jarrod’s high-pitched voice. A welcome sound in this quiet house. One he could get used to.

But despite Gram’s prodding, it was better all around to focus on friendship rather than romance with Cindy.

Even if his heart wanted more.

* * *

“Can I give him one bite, Mr. Walsh?”

Cindy played with her second piece of pizza, only half listening to the exchange between Jarrod and their host.

“Just one.” Scott took a sip of his soda while Toby planted himself beside her son’s chair, tail swishing the floor, nose tipped up, attention riveted on the piece of pizza in Jarrod’s hand.

“Here you go, boy.” Jarrod tore off a hearty bite and fed it to the dog, who chomped it down, then gave a contented purr deep in his throat. “Your treat for the day.”

Treat for the day.

The words echoed in Cindy’s mind as she thought about that charged moment in the attic when she’d practically asked Scott to kiss her. What had she been thinking?

That, in a nutshell, was the problem. There had been no thinking involved. Only feeling.

“More pizza, Cindy?” Scott pushed the large cutting board containing what was left of the second pizza toward her.

“No, thanks. I’ve had plenty.”

That wasn’t true—and they both knew it. She’d managed to chew and swallow the first slice, but she hadn’t made much progress on the second one. After hiking in the woods for hours, she should be starving.

Instead, her stomach was queasy.

“Let’s move on to those cupcakes then.” Scott rose and picked up their plates. “I peeked in the bag while the pizza was baking. They look good.”

“We got white and chocolate.” Jarrod bounced up and pulled the molded plastic container of six cupcakes out of the bag. “We didn’t know which kind you like best.”

“Either one is fine with me. You pick first.”

“Chocolate.” Jarrod returned to the table, popped the lid and selected the one with the most icing, as Cindy knew he would.

She was glad some things were predictable.

“Coffee?” Scott picked up a mug from the counter and lifted it toward her.

“Yes, thanks.” Maybe some caffeine would jump-start her brain.

He delivered their mugs one at a time, as he had the morning he’d served her breakfast, favoring his damaged hand. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help wondering once again what had caused the extensive scarring.

“How did you hurt your hand, Mr. Walsh?”

As Jarrod voiced the very question that was on her mind, she jumped in before Scott had a chance to respond, her tone sharper than she intended. “It’s not polite to ask personal questions, honey.”

Her son’s face reddened and he dipped his chin.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind answering it.” Scott slid into his seat and wrapped his fingers around his mug, sending Jarrod a reassuring glance. “My hand was crushed a few years ago in an accident on a job site. It took a lot of operations and a lot of therapy to get it back in shape. Or as good a shape as it’s ever going to be.” He set the mug down and flexed his fingers. “Not bad, considering the doctors had to piece the bones back together like a puzzle. I don’t have as much sensation in my fingers as I used to because of nerve damage, but at least it works. So how’s that cupcake?”

“Good.” Jarrod ran his finger through the icing and stuck the glob in his mouth. “I busted my arm once.”

“Yeah? How’d you do that?” Scott broke off a bite of his cupcake as her son dug into his with gusto, his discomfort evaporating under Scott’s matter-of-fact reaction to his question.

Cindy took a sip of her coffee, her admiration for the man ticking up yet another notch.

“Fell off my bike.” The words came out garbled as Jarrod chewed his cupcake. “Mom and Dad had to take me to the emergency room. But it works fine now.” He demonstrated by holding it out and shaking it.

Apparently thinking this was a new game, Toby began leaping into the air and barking.

“Whoa, boy.” Scott restrained him with a hand on his collar. “Now that you’ve gotten him excited, you’re going to have to take him out again and let him run off all this energy.”

Cindy swallowed and gripped her mug. She didn’t relish any more alone time with Scott today.

“Okay.” Jarrod shoved the last quarter of his cupcake into his mouth and jogged for the door.

“Ten minutes.” Cindy called out the warning, fighting down her panic. “I have things to do at home.”

Acknowledging her comment with a wave of his hand, Jarrod exited, a yapping Toby at his heels.

Quiet descended in the kitchen. Only the hiss of water dripping from the coffeemaker and the muted ticking of a clock in his grandmother’s living room broke the stillness.

In desperation, she searched for some innocuous topic that would buy her the time to gulp her coffee, choke down a few bites of cake and escape.

But her host had other ideas.

“I think we should talk about what almost happened.”

The piece of cake she’d just swallowed got stuck in her throat, and she fumbled for her water glass. Took a long swallow.

Okay. She could handle this. They were mature adults. And maybe it would be better to acknowledge the elephant in the room rather than ignore it. “I guess that’s not a bad idea. Especially if our paths are going to start intersecting.”

“That’s my thought.” He leaned forward and clasped his mug. “I can’t say precisely what ignited that spark in the attic a little while ago, but the fact is it’s been there almost from the beginning. On my end, anyway.”

Honesty deserved to be repaid with honesty. No matter how uncomfortable it made her feel. “On mine, too.”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “I thought so, but thank you for confirming that my instincts are still sound. Here’s the thing. You’re a very attractive woman. You’re kind, conscientious, hard-working, intelligent—in other words, from everything I’ve been able to gather in our short acquaintance, you’re the real deal. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t have waited for Gram to matchmake. I’d have asked you out already. But A, I don’t think you’re ready to date yet, and B, there’s a problem on my end.”

She remained silent as he rose, crossed the room and topped off his mug. Instead of returning to the table, however, he propped a hip against the counter. Keeping some distance between them.

“Nine months ago a woman I’d been dating for three years gave me an ultimatum. Make a commitment or get out of her life. And she was right to do that. Three years is plenty long enough to know if you’re heading for anything permanent. Too long, actually. I knew a few months after we met there were issues that could keep things from getting serious, but the relationship was comfortable, I was busy and it was easier to maintain the status quo.”

He took a swig of coffee, set the mug down and gripped the edge of the counter behind him, facing her. “When I broke things off, Angela was disappointed and hurt—but not surprised. I think she’d already figured out that was how things were going to end. However, her eight-year-old daughter, Leah, was devastated. She’d bonded with me far better than she’d ever bonded with Angela’s ex, who’d disappeared not long after she was born. And I’d been part of her life for almost as long as she could remember. Angela wanted a clean break, and I understood that, but I’ll never forget Leah’s anguished face the night I told her I wouldn’t be coming around anymore.”

His voice rasped and he turned around to grope for his mug—with the wrong hand. It slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor, spewing coffee and glass all directions.

Muttering a word she couldn’t make out, he yanked the towel off the oven handle and bent to sop up the mess.

Cindy rose and pulled several paper towels off the rack before joining him.