Dinner at seven?”
For an insane second, Cilla found herself contemplating his invitation. How long since she’d been out to dinner, to any kind of meal that didn’t involve sitting in front of the TV? Vernon had been stingy as well as mean and since he’d died, she’d preferred her own company for meals than to have people pity her at a restaurant’s table for one.
“It doesn’t have to be in Redemption,” he said. “We could drive to Fairfield or Bridgeport.”
“But locals eat there too and might see us,” she blurted, then wished she hadn’t said anything when he laughed. A rich, genuine laugh that tugged on something deep inside, demanding a response.
“It’s only dinner. It’s not like I’m asking for anything else.” He ducked his head to murmur near her ear. “Yet.”
Cilla had to say no. Bryce was flirting with her, for goodness’ sake, and he was young enough to be her son.
But as he stepped back and stared at her with nothing but kindness, the sort of kindness she’d never had from a man, ever, she found herself wishing she could say yes.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she said, adding a frown along with a glower for good measure.
He nodded. “Fair enough, but I’m not giving up,” he said, with a brisk salute before strolling away, whistling under his breath.
“Don’t waste your time,” she yelled at his retreating back.
He whistled louder, as if trying to drown her out.
As her wistful gaze focused on his butt for a moment, and registered how taut it was, she knew she’d done the right thing in refusing him.
Hadn’t she?
3.
T he moment Jake Mathieson heard his sister murmur, “I need your help, I’m desperate,” over the phone, he’d broken the land speed record to get to her crummy studio apartment in Manhattan.
As his nephew, Olly, opened the door to him, wearing torn shorts and a grubby T-shirt streaked with ketchup down the front, Jake sent up a silent prayer of gratitude.
Rose had problems, always had, yet she’d never approached him for help despite his many overtures. So the moment he’d heard her heartfelt plea, he’d known things had to be bad and his first thought was for this innocent six-year-old who didn’t deserve to suffer because of a troubled parent.
If anyone knew what that was like, he did. He’d borne the brunt of his father’s abuse, trying to deflect attention off Rose and protect her. He wanted to be Olly’s protector too but he couldn’t be there for the kid twenty-four-seven because Rose wouldn’t let him. It broke his heart, looking into Olly’s big brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to bore right down to his soul and find him lacking.
“Hey Ol, where’s your mom?” He ruffled Olly’s curls, glad when the kid didn’t shrug away like he did sometimes.
“She’s lying down.” Olly’s somber tone made the dread in Jake’s gut solidify. “In there.”
Increasingly worried, Jake pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket and presented it to Olly. “I’d love one of your great shark pictures, so why don’t you go draw me one and eat this while I chat to your mom?”
“Okay.” Olly grabbed the bar with eager hands and proceeded to tear the wrapping.
“Manners?” The gentle admonition slipped out but Jake wasn’t sorry. He tried his best to instill values into the boy whenever he was around.
“Thanks, Uncle Jake,” Olly said, cramming half the bar into his mouth in one go before bounding toward the kitchen.
Olly was a good kid but he didn’t have a lot of friends and was behind in class. Rose didn’t seem to think this was a problem. Then again, his sister was becoming increasingly self-absorbed and he knew why.
He’d seen what too much alcohol had done to their father and he could see the signs in Rose. Not good.
Jake dragged in a deep breath and blew it out. He’d always been gentle with Rose. Supportive. Because of what they’d been through growing up. He’d backed her when she’d left home at sixteen and
For an insane second, Cilla found herself contemplating his invitation. How long since she’d been out to dinner, to any kind of meal that didn’t involve sitting in front of the TV? Vernon had been stingy as well as mean and since he’d died, she’d preferred her own company for meals than to have people pity her at a restaurant’s table for one.
“It doesn’t have to be in Redemption,” he said. “We could drive to Fairfield or Bridgeport.”
“But locals eat there too and might see us,” she blurted, then wished she hadn’t said anything when he laughed. A rich, genuine laugh that tugged on something deep inside, demanding a response.
“It’s only dinner. It’s not like I’m asking for anything else.” He ducked his head to murmur near her ear. “Yet.”
Cilla had to say no. Bryce was flirting with her, for goodness’ sake, and he was young enough to be her son.
But as he stepped back and stared at her with nothing but kindness, the sort of kindness she’d never had from a man, ever, she found herself wishing she could say yes.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she said, adding a frown along with a glower for good measure.
He nodded. “Fair enough, but I’m not giving up,” he said, with a brisk salute before strolling away, whistling under his breath.
“Don’t waste your time,” she yelled at his retreating back.
He whistled louder, as if trying to drown her out.
As her wistful gaze focused on his butt for a moment, and registered how taut it was, she knew she’d done the right thing in refusing him.
Hadn’t she?
3.
T he moment Jake Mathieson heard his sister murmur, “I need your help, I’m desperate,” over the phone, he’d broken the land speed record to get to her crummy studio apartment in Manhattan.
As his nephew, Olly, opened the door to him, wearing torn shorts and a grubby T-shirt streaked with ketchup down the front, Jake sent up a silent prayer of gratitude.
Rose had problems, always had, yet she’d never approached him for help despite his many overtures. So the moment he’d heard her heartfelt plea, he’d known things had to be bad and his first thought was for this innocent six-year-old who didn’t deserve to suffer because of a troubled parent.
If anyone knew what that was like, he did. He’d borne the brunt of his father’s abuse, trying to deflect attention off Rose and protect her. He wanted to be Olly’s protector too but he couldn’t be there for the kid twenty-four-seven because Rose wouldn’t let him. It broke his heart, looking into Olly’s big brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to bore right down to his soul and find him lacking.
“Hey Ol, where’s your mom?” He ruffled Olly’s curls, glad when the kid didn’t shrug away like he did sometimes.
“She’s lying down.” Olly’s somber tone made the dread in Jake’s gut solidify. “In there.”
Increasingly worried, Jake pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket and presented it to Olly. “I’d love one of your great shark pictures, so why don’t you go draw me one and eat this while I chat to your mom?”
“Okay.” Olly grabbed the bar with eager hands and proceeded to tear the wrapping.
“Manners?” The gentle admonition slipped out but Jake wasn’t sorry. He tried his best to instill values into the boy whenever he was around.
“Thanks, Uncle Jake,” Olly said, cramming half the bar into his mouth in one go before bounding toward the kitchen.
Olly was a good kid but he didn’t have a lot of friends and was behind in class. Rose didn’t seem to think this was a problem. Then again, his sister was becoming increasingly self-absorbed and he knew why.
He’d seen what too much alcohol had done to their father and he could see the signs in Rose. Not good.
Jake dragged in a deep breath and blew it out. He’d always been gentle with Rose. Supportive. Because of what they’d been through growing up. He’d backed her when she’d left home at sixteen and
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