Page 17 of Surrender

“That’s Cooper.” Jack does some hand gesture, and the big black dog trots to his side and lies down.

“That looks like a monster.” Lucy walks backward until she bumps into my shins. “Aunt Alice has a chachwa, and he’s small. Cooper is biiiiiig.”

“Aunt Alice has a chihuahua, baby, and he’s not very nice.”

Lucy nods seriously. “He bited me one time. On my finger while I petted him.” She thrusts her index finger in front of her face.

Jack looks at Lucy as if her story is the most interesting thing in the world. His expression changes from curious to serious the more she talks to him. “I bet that hurt.”

“It did. Momma gived me a bandage and a popsicle.”

“Your mom sounds really smart. I like a popsicle when I get hurt too,” Jack says.

“Do your bandages have unicorns on dem?”

“I don’t think so. They’re just plain.”

Lucy tilts her chin back to look at me. “I don’t wanna get hurt here. Plain bandages don’t work,” she whispers loudly.

I sift my fingers through her hair, ignoring the way my stomach flips around at the undivided attention he gives my daughter.

“You don’t have to worry about Cooper. He’ll be with me, and he’s really nice. Just make sure you walk slowly around him and hold your hand out for him to sniff, like this.” Jack demonstrates, and after a minute of observing, Lucy follows suit.

“Perfect!” he praises and holds his fist out.

Lucy makes a fist too and stares at him.

“Like this.” He gently holds her small fist and bumps them together.

Any reservations I held about staying here begin to melt away. For a man without any kids of his own, he’s a natural. Watching him interact with my daughter makes my ovaries tingle.

“Can you show me where the room is?” I need to break up the moment before I say something stupid like marry me. A flush breaks out across my neck. South of my jeans, something awakens after a year-long slumber.

“Of course.” Jack smiles. He brushes his hands on his jeans and holds his arm out in front of him. “This way.”

Without my asking, he picks up my suitcase and the portable crib.

“There’s a full bathroom here on the left, and the bedroom is at the end of the hallway.”

The second I step over the threshold to the bedroom, I stop. The room is simply furnished with a king-sized bed in the center of the room, bracketed on either side by simple black nightstands. Across from the bed is a matching a nine-drawer dresser next to what I presume to be a closet. A tingling awareness creeps up my spine at the idea of being in Jack Powell’s bedroom. With Jack Powell.

Jack bumps into my back.

“Sorry!” I dash out of the way.

“If you give me a minute, I’ll toss some fresh sheets on the bed.”

Oh my god. And I’ll be sleeping in his bed.

I force a laugh. “I can handle that. Your hospitality is bleeding over into your home life. I don’t want to make you work away from the office.”

“It’s no problem.” He smirks over his shoulder while retrieving a stack of sheets from a drawer. “I’m a professional at this point.”

“I’m sure you are,” I mumble, a little dazed at the sight before me of a fully grown man stripping the bed in order to put on fresh sheets. The fact he even has a spare set is enough to make me want to pinch myself. This has to be an alternate reality.

I set up the portable crib to stop staring and give myself something to do. Within a few minutes, Bennett’s bed is ready, and Jack removes an armful of bedding from the vicinity.

Oh Lordy. He’s washing the sheets, too.

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