Page 29 of Serenity Harbor

“Yes. He opened his eyes for about half a second, but that was it.”

“That’s good.”

“Thanks for helping Mrs. Nielson,” he said. “And I owe you an even bigger debt of gratitude—not to mention a deep apology—for keeping you here later than I promised. I don’t really have an excuse, other than that time slipped away from me.”

“Time has a way of doing that,” she said, reaching high to put a wineglass on the top shelf. The movement elongated her slender form, making her tawny legs look about a mile long below her shorts. Just like that, the awareness he thought he had wrestled into submission jumped back, raring to go.

He frowned. No. He absolutely wouldnotgo there. So he was attracted to her. Big deal. He had been attracted to plenty of women before without trying to pursue anything with them, unless they indicated it was a mutual thing.

Even if hedidthink he saw that moment of awareness when she awoke, he wasn’t about to screw up the best thing that had happened to him in a long time because he wanted something he couldn’t have.

“How did things go today?”

She went to work putting away utensils. “Busy but fun. He’s a sweet boy.”

“Barring his epic tantrums.”

“Even those aren’t happening as often. I think his meltdowns usually come when he’s frustrated that he can’t communicate. I would probably have a tantrum, too, if I couldn’t understand why people weren’t listening to me.”

He studied her, struck again by her compassion and kindness for a child she hadn’t even known existed a week earlier. “You genuinely enjoy being with him,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s a sweet boy ninety-five percent of the time. I want to think I’m making progress with him, too. He seems calmer, and he’s starting to make a few more noises that almost sound like words.”

“I’ve seen improvement in these last few days,” he said. “Our evenings together have been much easier than they were before. He’s sleeping like a rock, too, so you must be tiring him out. Thanks for that. I don’t have to stay up all night worrying that he might wander.”

She gave a soft, lovely smile, and Bowie had to swallow the sudden urge to kiss the corner of her mouth where her lips lifted.

His heartbeat seemed unnaturally loud in his ears, which annoyed the hell out of him. She was so darn beautiful. Somehow she made him feel like that awkward kid in college in those tough first months when all the pretty coeds at MIT made it clear they thought he was too scrawny, too serious and especially too young.

He had dated plenty of beautiful women since then who didn’t spark this restless, achy reaction in him. What was different about Katrina Bailey?

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Today he helped me make wedding favors. Tomorrow we’re going to buy some things for the bachelorette party. I thought he would be bored to tears, running all over and helping me with my wedding errands, but he actually seems to be enjoying himself.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Oh,” she suddenly exclaimed. “I almost forgot to tell you. We made pasta for dinner. Chicken and broccoli. It was very tasty, if I do say so myself. Milo even had seconds. We had plenty of leftovers, so we fixed you a plate and left it in the refrigerator, if you’d like it.”

“Did you?” Warmth unfurled inside him at her thoughtfulness. “Sounds delicious. I didn’t realize I was hungry until right this moment.”

He decided it probably wouldn’t be wise to add that not all of his hunger was necessarily for food right now.

“Would you like me to heat it up for you?”

Given that he’d mostly taken care of himself throughout his childhood, he probably had been punching buttons on a microwave for longer than she had been alive, but he didn’t tell her that.

The truth was, he was touched that she wanted to take care of him. It wouldn’t take an advanced degree or months of psychoanalysis to figure out why.

That was probably the reason why he should decline her offer. “Thanks, but I can heat it up,” he said.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plate covered in plastic wrap and mounded over with thick, creamy-looking pasta with bright green broccoli.

“Wow. That looks delicious.”

“There was nothing to it. You had all the ingredients. All we did was throw them together.”

She didn’t make a move to leave while he slid the plate into the microwave and hit a couple of buttons to reheat it, making him wonder if she was waiting for something else from him. For the life of him, he couldn’t think what that might be.

“I should go home, I guess,” she finally said.

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