Page 33 of Unbreakable Love

Only then did he pull away and once he did, I rested my back against the door and thumped the back of my head against it twice.

“This is stupid. Absolutely stupid of you, Penelope Pesco.”

But I was still going to do it. I was going to cook that man and his daughter dinner, and it didn’t mean anything.

It meant nothing at all outside a thank you for helping me out.

That’s all it was.

Showing kindness to a neighbor.

It had nothing to do with my growing desire to get to know that man better, get to know his daughter, and see how they lived. See his house.

Nope.

It didn’t mean any of that at all.

The door swung open so quickly I stumbled back a step. I’d expected, given Josie’s earlier excitement over my being at her house, that she’d be the one rushing to the door to let me in, but instead, before I could even ring the doorbell, it was Gavin who was standing in the doorway.

Gavin, who’d changed into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a different hooded sweatshirt with a logo and Kelley Ranch embroidered right over his chest.

A very well curved, defined chest, obvious beneath the thick fabric.

“Let me take that,” he said, and before I could argue or tell him I had it, he had my reusable shopping bag in his hand and was walking into his house, leaving the door open. “Josie’s finishing up her bath. She’ll be out in a minute, though. Figured I’d get that done with now, so I didn’t have to fight her on it later.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised that suddenly, now he was being kind to me?

Maybe it was the safety of his home? A home that at first glance wasn’t much larger than mine but was definitely a home and not a rental. For a single dad and a young one, I was surprised. Artwork was on the walls, large canvases of countryside. Thick floating shelves took up the wall on both sides of his massive television and as I turned and followed him into the kitchen, the refrigerator was covered with a washable monthly calendar and Josie’s artwork.

He’d told me he renovated it, but I didn’t think that meant decorating it and making it feel all cozy and comfortable.

He set down the bag on the island, looked at it, then me, and the hallway that I figured led to two or three bedrooms.

“What do you need?” he asked. “From the kitchen, I mean, for the soup.”

Right.

I was here to cook, not inspect his home or take up time or space longer than necessary.

“Um...a cutting board? I’m pretty sure I brought everything else.”

He flipped open a bottom cupboard in the island near his hip and slid a large wooden board onto the counter. “Anything else?”

I would have appreciated him to stay nice and welcoming, not that I guessed he’d been much of either, but I could feel him slipping back into grump mode.

“I’ve got it, and I’ll try not to burn down your kitchen.”

He swung wide, terrified eyes in my direction.

“I’m kidding, Gavin. I’ve been cooking since I was eight. I’ll be fine.”

“Eight? That’s Josie’s age.”

“Yeah, well…” I shrugged and stopped myself from saying more. He knew enough about my life, and that was all he needed to know.

“Right, I’m going to check on Josie then.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes off him as he hurried down the hall like his backside was on fire. And what a nice backside it was. I was surprised he’d let me see him so casual, hanging out at home in pajama pants, pants that clung to his hips and molded to the curves of that backside with perfection.

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