Page 5 of Finding His Forever

She takes a deep breath, and her lips quirk into an amused smile. “Oh, it’ll work all right.”

I frown at the amusement in her voice. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” she insists. “I’m just…curious. Do you know what the word ‘spoil’ means?”

I bite back a smile and rub the back of my neck. “I’ve been accused of that once or twice.”

“So it’s a character flaw you admit to?” She’s teasing, and her eyes sparkle with laughter.

“Trust me, there’s no such thing as spoiling when it comes to the people I care about,” I assure her, my gaze locked on hers.

She must catch my meaning because the smile fades from her face, and she says breathlessly, “Oh.”

Penny’s words from the plane, her stern warning about not hitting on Eve, replay in my mind. I’m a man of my word, but this… This will be difficult. I can’t recall the last time I was so instantly and inexplicably drawn to a woman.

“Well,” Eve says, pulling herself together and setting down her bag with a thud. “Truly, all kids need is love and support.”

“Of course,” I agree. “But sometimes, a little spoiling doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Maybe, so,” she concedes, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “As long as love and support always come first.” Her sincere eyes darken. She’s speaking from experience, and I can’t help but wonder what shaped her perspective.

“Absolutely. And believe me, in my family, those are never in short supply.” For some reason I can’t quite explain, I’m desperate to reassure her.

She searches my face for a minute, as if she needs to verify the truth in my words. Then her eyes fall to the wagon, and suddenly, she’s all business again. The moment is gone as quickly as it came. She turns her attention back to setting up and maneuvers the wagon into the room.

She unloads her supplies, fabrics and poles and pillow and more. Her movements are deft and efficient despite her disability. She’s strong and graceful, even as she works with just one hand, which must be more difficult than I imagine. It’s a testament to her resilience and spirit, and I’m drawn to her more and more with each passing second.

I don’t want to offer assistance again. Eve doesn’t need me to swoop in like some white knight; she’s clearly capable of handling things on her own. Instead, I stand there, useless, and watch.

“Mr. Sharp?” Eve finally says, breaking the silence. “I’ll need to—”

“Please, call me Coop.”

“Alright, Coop.” She says my name softly as if she’s testing it on her lips. “I’ll… I need to make another trip to grab the rest of my supplies, and then it’ll probably take me close to an hour to set up.”

She’s kicking me out. Not in so many words. But I’m hovering, and even I can tell it’s not helping.

“Of course.” I point down the hallway. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in my office down the hall.”

“Which door?” she asks coyly, a playful glint in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally barge into your bedroom.”

No? You sure about that, Eve Watts?

But rather than voice my thoughts aloud, I clear my throat. “Third one on the left. I’ll leave the door open for you. No need for any surprises.”

She laughs, and the light sound is like a breath of fresh air. It sends a shiver down my spine that has absolutely nothing to do with the temperature in the room. She grabs the handle of the now empty wagon and maneuvers it back out into the hallway.

She points toward the front door. “I’m just gonna—”

“Of course,” I insist. “Make yourself at home.”

She makes her way down the hallway, but instead of heading to my office in the other direction, I watch her retreating figure. The sway of her hips in those jeans is mesmerizing, but it’s not just her physical beauty that has me hooked. A fire in her speaks volumes about her strength and independence.

Usually, that’s exactly the type of woman I go for—strong, independent, has her own life. A woman who won’t cling or be needy or want more than I’m willing to give. And yet, there’s something about Eve, a faint undercurrent of innocence that belies her confidence. It could be her youth. She can’t be a day over twenty-five, but as I replay our conversation, an unfamiliar sensation, a sudden surge of protectiveness, stirs in my chest and catches me off guard.

I want to protect Eve Watts from anything and everything that might harm her, even though it’s clear my protection is the last thing she needs.

Eve

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