My mouth sort of hangs open as I watch her nonchalantly cooking in my kitchen. She’s been in my house for all of five minutes at most, and she’s fucking cooking breakfast in my kitchen.
In Gina’s kitchen, rather. This was never my domain, as evidenced by the burn on my arm.
Anger wells inside me and I have the sudden and insane urge to pull her away from the task. I want to yell at her that this was Gina’s role, not hers, and it’s completely unfair that she’s standing in that position right now.
Instead, I hear the thumping of little feet as Ben comes bounding down the second staircase that leads from the other side of the second floor down into the kitchen.
“Is breakfast ready, Dad?” he asks as he rounds the island counter. His eyes are on me, but then he notices Kate. She turns to give him a smile and says, “Hey, buddy. Remember me?”
Ben’s eyes flare wide with recognition, and then he utterly flays my heart open when his lips pull back into a massive and deliriously happy grin.
“Kate,” he practically screams, and launches himself at her. His face presses into the side of her thigh and his little arms wrap tight around her legs. “Aunt Delaney said you’d be back.”
She immediately picks him up and steps three feet away from the hot griddle, efficiently reaching back to flip it off. “Whoa, little man. Can’t have you acting all crazy like that around the hot plate,” she scolds gently, then tickles his belly.
I stare stupidly at the two of them, completely taken with each other. She’s obviously a fucking natural with kids, clearly diligent in looking out for their safety, and calmly able to multitask. It reminds me so much of Gina and the calm surety with which she was just able to handle everything, a longing pain hits me deep in my chest.
And it makes me fucking hate her as she impinges on my memories of Gina.
I take a deep breath, because my need to tear my son out of her arms and fling her out the door is starting to overwhelm me. She stands there laughing with Ben as he puts his little hands on her shoulders and babbles about a remote-control car I bought him a few days ago. He is absolutely and completely at ease with her, which is something I haven’t seen from him since Gina died. He’s okay around me and Delaney, as well as our neighbor Michelle, who was good friends with Gina. Michelle has a four-year-old son, Beau, so she, Gina, Ben, and Beau would spend a lot of time with one another. But since Gina died, he’s been leery of strangers and it takes a while for him to warm up to them.
Not so with this girl, though.
He seems to fucking love her already.
Defeat settles in and I know she’s here to stay. I tamp down my bitterness, push my anger aside, and take one more deep breath. For Ben’s sake, I’m going to give this a shot. For Ben’s sake, I’m going to tolerate Kate.
At least for now.
Chapter 2
Kate
My heart feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest as I stand at the sink and wash the griddle clean. It’s actually kind of a pleasure to clean up in a kitchen like this. I’ve never been in a home this nice, and it’s hard not to stare around in wonder at all the shiny. His kitchen is übermodern, with sleek blond-oak cabinets and stainless-steel handles. The counters are done in black granite with flecks of gray throughout and the sink is a massive single bin made of some type of stone.
Zack sits at the table on the opposite side of the L-shaped kitchen counter with Ben as they eat their breakfast. His eyes remain pinned on me, a mixture of anger and confusion.
He clearly doesn’t like me and I have no clue why. I expect him at any moment to just fire me. I can see it in his eyes…That’s what he wants.
There was a moment when Ben hurtled his little body at me that I cut a glance at Zack, and I saw fury wash over him. It scared me so bad, I almost ran out of the house right then. But I didn’t because I really, really, really need this job. Without it, I’m just one bus ticket away from being forced to return home to live with Daddy in our dingy tin can of a trailer in the backwoods of eastern North Carolina. And I promised myself when I left home five years ago, as much as I adore my daddy, I would never let that happen.
So I pulled on all of my available confidence that I’ve built up over the years along with my sheer will to survive and promptly ignored Zack and his dirty looks and started to clean his kitchen. He didn’t say a word, just watched me as I worked and sometimes would make conversation with Ben.
I’m just wiping down the counters when Zack picks up the empty plates and walks over to put them in the dishwasher. When he’s finished, he turns to Ben and says, “Why don’t you go upstairs and play in your room a bit? I need to talk to Kate about a few things.”
“Can I watch TV?” Ben asks.
“Sure,” Zack says, and Ben jets from the table and pounds his way upstairs.
I rinse out the dishcloth in my hand, wring it, and then fold it over the faucet. Turning to Zack, I find him leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed defensively over his chest. His gaze is frosty when he says, “What exactly did Delaney tell you the job would consist of?”
Man, he intimidates the hell out of me. He towers over me, and even though he has the face of an angel with dark brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes perfectly supported by a strong jaw, so much animosity is radiating off him that I think he may be the devil.
I know all about Zack Grantham. That’s because I love sports. All kinds of sports, but in particular, Cold Fury hockey. When North Carolina got its first professional ice hockey team, I had just started sixth grade. But I remember sitting on the ratty green corduroy-covered couch in our trailer, and Daddy and I rooting for the Cold Fury. Of course, often he’d be drunk and passed out by the third period, but at least for two periods we’d have a good time bonding over our mutual love of the sport.
In Gina’s kitchen, rather. This was never my domain, as evidenced by the burn on my arm.
Anger wells inside me and I have the sudden and insane urge to pull her away from the task. I want to yell at her that this was Gina’s role, not hers, and it’s completely unfair that she’s standing in that position right now.
Instead, I hear the thumping of little feet as Ben comes bounding down the second staircase that leads from the other side of the second floor down into the kitchen.
“Is breakfast ready, Dad?” he asks as he rounds the island counter. His eyes are on me, but then he notices Kate. She turns to give him a smile and says, “Hey, buddy. Remember me?”
Ben’s eyes flare wide with recognition, and then he utterly flays my heart open when his lips pull back into a massive and deliriously happy grin.
“Kate,” he practically screams, and launches himself at her. His face presses into the side of her thigh and his little arms wrap tight around her legs. “Aunt Delaney said you’d be back.”
She immediately picks him up and steps three feet away from the hot griddle, efficiently reaching back to flip it off. “Whoa, little man. Can’t have you acting all crazy like that around the hot plate,” she scolds gently, then tickles his belly.
I stare stupidly at the two of them, completely taken with each other. She’s obviously a fucking natural with kids, clearly diligent in looking out for their safety, and calmly able to multitask. It reminds me so much of Gina and the calm surety with which she was just able to handle everything, a longing pain hits me deep in my chest.
And it makes me fucking hate her as she impinges on my memories of Gina.
I take a deep breath, because my need to tear my son out of her arms and fling her out the door is starting to overwhelm me. She stands there laughing with Ben as he puts his little hands on her shoulders and babbles about a remote-control car I bought him a few days ago. He is absolutely and completely at ease with her, which is something I haven’t seen from him since Gina died. He’s okay around me and Delaney, as well as our neighbor Michelle, who was good friends with Gina. Michelle has a four-year-old son, Beau, so she, Gina, Ben, and Beau would spend a lot of time with one another. But since Gina died, he’s been leery of strangers and it takes a while for him to warm up to them.
Not so with this girl, though.
He seems to fucking love her already.
Defeat settles in and I know she’s here to stay. I tamp down my bitterness, push my anger aside, and take one more deep breath. For Ben’s sake, I’m going to give this a shot. For Ben’s sake, I’m going to tolerate Kate.
At least for now.
Chapter 2
Kate
My heart feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest as I stand at the sink and wash the griddle clean. It’s actually kind of a pleasure to clean up in a kitchen like this. I’ve never been in a home this nice, and it’s hard not to stare around in wonder at all the shiny. His kitchen is übermodern, with sleek blond-oak cabinets and stainless-steel handles. The counters are done in black granite with flecks of gray throughout and the sink is a massive single bin made of some type of stone.
Zack sits at the table on the opposite side of the L-shaped kitchen counter with Ben as they eat their breakfast. His eyes remain pinned on me, a mixture of anger and confusion.
He clearly doesn’t like me and I have no clue why. I expect him at any moment to just fire me. I can see it in his eyes…That’s what he wants.
There was a moment when Ben hurtled his little body at me that I cut a glance at Zack, and I saw fury wash over him. It scared me so bad, I almost ran out of the house right then. But I didn’t because I really, really, really need this job. Without it, I’m just one bus ticket away from being forced to return home to live with Daddy in our dingy tin can of a trailer in the backwoods of eastern North Carolina. And I promised myself when I left home five years ago, as much as I adore my daddy, I would never let that happen.
So I pulled on all of my available confidence that I’ve built up over the years along with my sheer will to survive and promptly ignored Zack and his dirty looks and started to clean his kitchen. He didn’t say a word, just watched me as I worked and sometimes would make conversation with Ben.
I’m just wiping down the counters when Zack picks up the empty plates and walks over to put them in the dishwasher. When he’s finished, he turns to Ben and says, “Why don’t you go upstairs and play in your room a bit? I need to talk to Kate about a few things.”
“Can I watch TV?” Ben asks.
“Sure,” Zack says, and Ben jets from the table and pounds his way upstairs.
I rinse out the dishcloth in my hand, wring it, and then fold it over the faucet. Turning to Zack, I find him leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed defensively over his chest. His gaze is frosty when he says, “What exactly did Delaney tell you the job would consist of?”
Man, he intimidates the hell out of me. He towers over me, and even though he has the face of an angel with dark brown hair and whiskey-colored eyes perfectly supported by a strong jaw, so much animosity is radiating off him that I think he may be the devil.
I know all about Zack Grantham. That’s because I love sports. All kinds of sports, but in particular, Cold Fury hockey. When North Carolina got its first professional ice hockey team, I had just started sixth grade. But I remember sitting on the ratty green corduroy-covered couch in our trailer, and Daddy and I rooting for the Cold Fury. Of course, often he’d be drunk and passed out by the third period, but at least for two periods we’d have a good time bonding over our mutual love of the sport.
