Page 35 of Unbreakable Love

“Baseball term,” Gavin said, patting her shoulder. “Or softball. Means you’re a good batter.”

“Ohhh… did you play sports, Miss Pesco? I don’t, but my uncles do, and I think they’re okay at them.”

Okay was an understatement, and both Gavin and I chuckled. “Yeah, I think they’re pretty okay too from what I hear, but no, I didn’t play sports when I was growing up.”

“Why not?”

I looked at Gavin, who was silent and also surprisingly not scowling at me. Instead, he appeared almost as curious as his daughter. No way was I explaining to an eight-year-old about how I was mothering my little sister by that age and making sure we both survived and were safe as possible. Or that we barely had money some weeks for enough cans of SpaghettiOs and ramen. Playing sports or doing things like dance and gymnastics were never in the equation.

“Too busy with other things,” I told her instead and sliced into the large French loaf of bread. “Now, how about you come and help me with this?”

“Yes.” She fist pumped her little arm. “I’m ready.”

“This might get messy for your fingers.” I turned to Gavin. “Do you have plastic sandwich bags or anything to cover them for her?”

“Got it.”

He came around the island and pulled out a drawer. I pulled out two bags and slipped them on Josie’s hands. “Now, I know there are nicer ways to do this, but this way is more fun. You’re going to scoop up a chunk of butter and spread it all over the bread, okay? When you’re done, we’ll add some garlic.”

“Got it.”

I stirred the soup while she got the bread all nice and buttered. I’d already turned the oven on and once she was done, I opened my garlic chopper and handed her the small cup that had freshly cut garlic in it.

“That is cool,” Josie said. “Grandma always says she hates garlic because it makes her fingers sticky.”

“Well, now you know what she needs for her birthday or Christmas.”

“Great idea! Dad, we can get this for Grandma?”

“Sure, Josie,” he replied. “I need a drink. Want anything or did you bring that too?”

There was a tease in his voice, and I grinned at him.

My mistake.

He was looking at me with a soft expression, like he actually didn’t mind me in his house, and I wasn’t quite prepared for it. So not prepared that when that expression turned into a smirk like he knew what I was thinking, I was still gaping at him.

“Beer?” he asked. “Water?”

“Water, please.”

“Milk or water, Josie?”

“Can I get chocolate milk?”

“Not today.”

She rolled her eyes like she’d heard that far too many times and shrugged off her disappointment. This girl. With as much as she got away with, I was almost surprised Gavin didn’t give in.

“Fine. Milk then, please.” She looked up at me with bagged and buttered hands and a wink. “It’s good for my bones.”

“It sure is. Now, here’s the garlic. Shake it out over the bread and then move it around so we’re not left with a huge pile of it in one place, okay?”

“Got it.”

She worked quickly. Gavin slid a glass of water onto the counter near me and there was the quick, quiet hiss of his beer opening.

While the bread cooked, I worked on cleaning, stirred the soup, and listened to Gavin and his daughter chatter about everything and nothing. She asked if more snow was coming and when she could go back to her grandma’s to see Goldie.

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