went into the bathroom to brush her hair and freshen up.
The phone chimed to indicate a new text. Her mouth went dry with anxiety when she picked it up to see what he had said. One word: Fine .
“Well,” she said. “That’s that.” She rested a hand on the still-small baby bump and was rewarded with a ripple of movement that made her smile. The baby’s tiny movements reminded Laura that her brief marriage hadn’t been a total loss.
She went downstairs to see what Owen was up to and found him in the kitchen, standing watch over a pot on the stove. “That smells amazing! What did you make?”
“Sauce from scratch,” he said proudly, lifting the lid for her to take a whiff. “My grandmother’s recipe.”
The combined aromas of garlic, basil and oregano had her taste buds standing up to take notice. “My mouth is watering,” she said as she slipped onto a stool at the counter.
The review earned her a big grin from the chef. “I have to boil the pasta, and then we can eat.”
They’d fallen into the habit of having dinner together every night. They took turns cooking, and some nights they went out, but it had become a standing date. One of the things she liked best about being with him was that it was easy. Neither of them had ever said the words, let’s have dinner every night . It just happened. Everything with him was comfortable, except for one thing—the itchy, restless feeling that came with unfulfilled desire.
If she looked at him, she wanted him. It was that simple. But then she remembered what he wanted—a life free of encumbrances, which made her wonder why he’d want to get involved with her and her many encumbrances. She shook off those unpleasant thoughts. It was better not to think about the inevitable day when the freedom of the open road would beckon him.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could cook like that.”
“Neither did I. Don’t get too excited until you try it. It might taste like crap.”
“If it tastes anything like it smells, we’ve got a winner. Do you like to cook?”
“I haven’t really had much chance, being on the road so much. I used to make a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches and pizza and stuff like that for my siblings, but I haven’t done much cooking since then.”
Since he so rarely spoke about his family or childhood, Laura was intrigued by the insight he’d shared. “Why were you cooking for them?”
“My parents were busy. They were out a lot, and I was in charge of the troops.”
“How old were you then?”
“I don’t know. Twelve, maybe.”
“You were twelve years old in charge of six younger siblings?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No wonder why you’re so good at taking care of me.”
“Am I good at taking care of you?”
“You know you are.”
He poured the lemon-flavored sparkling water she favored into a wineglass and put it in front of her.
Laura smiled up at him. “Exhibit A.”
Shrugging, he said, “Close your eyes and pretend it’s chardonnay.”
He was so adorable and so effortlessly charming. It never failed to touch her that he took such good care of her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. He was always one step ahead of her, thinking of what she might need before she knew she needed it. A girl could fall madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with a guy who paid that kind of attention to her.
“What’re you thinking about, Princess?” He puckered his lips in a mockingly serious expression that was so far out of character for him it made her laugh.
Because she couldn’t very well scare the hell out of him by telling him she was thinking about falling irrevocably in love with him, she said, “Nothing much.”
“Did you talk to your dad?”
She nodded. “He said to feel free to toss his name around with Justin. I hope it doesn’t come to that.” She looked up at Owen. “I’m meeting Justin on Friday at six in Providence.”
“We’ll take the three-thirty
The phone chimed to indicate a new text. Her mouth went dry with anxiety when she picked it up to see what he had said. One word: Fine .
“Well,” she said. “That’s that.” She rested a hand on the still-small baby bump and was rewarded with a ripple of movement that made her smile. The baby’s tiny movements reminded Laura that her brief marriage hadn’t been a total loss.
She went downstairs to see what Owen was up to and found him in the kitchen, standing watch over a pot on the stove. “That smells amazing! What did you make?”
“Sauce from scratch,” he said proudly, lifting the lid for her to take a whiff. “My grandmother’s recipe.”
The combined aromas of garlic, basil and oregano had her taste buds standing up to take notice. “My mouth is watering,” she said as she slipped onto a stool at the counter.
The review earned her a big grin from the chef. “I have to boil the pasta, and then we can eat.”
They’d fallen into the habit of having dinner together every night. They took turns cooking, and some nights they went out, but it had become a standing date. One of the things she liked best about being with him was that it was easy. Neither of them had ever said the words, let’s have dinner every night . It just happened. Everything with him was comfortable, except for one thing—the itchy, restless feeling that came with unfulfilled desire.
If she looked at him, she wanted him. It was that simple. But then she remembered what he wanted—a life free of encumbrances, which made her wonder why he’d want to get involved with her and her many encumbrances. She shook off those unpleasant thoughts. It was better not to think about the inevitable day when the freedom of the open road would beckon him.
She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could cook like that.”
“Neither did I. Don’t get too excited until you try it. It might taste like crap.”
“If it tastes anything like it smells, we’ve got a winner. Do you like to cook?”
“I haven’t really had much chance, being on the road so much. I used to make a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches and pizza and stuff like that for my siblings, but I haven’t done much cooking since then.”
Since he so rarely spoke about his family or childhood, Laura was intrigued by the insight he’d shared. “Why were you cooking for them?”
“My parents were busy. They were out a lot, and I was in charge of the troops.”
“How old were you then?”
“I don’t know. Twelve, maybe.”
“You were twelve years old in charge of six younger siblings?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No wonder why you’re so good at taking care of me.”
“Am I good at taking care of you?”
“You know you are.”
He poured the lemon-flavored sparkling water she favored into a wineglass and put it in front of her.
Laura smiled up at him. “Exhibit A.”
Shrugging, he said, “Close your eyes and pretend it’s chardonnay.”
He was so adorable and so effortlessly charming. It never failed to touch her that he took such good care of her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. He was always one step ahead of her, thinking of what she might need before she knew she needed it. A girl could fall madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with a guy who paid that kind of attention to her.
“What’re you thinking about, Princess?” He puckered his lips in a mockingly serious expression that was so far out of character for him it made her laugh.
Because she couldn’t very well scare the hell out of him by telling him she was thinking about falling irrevocably in love with him, she said, “Nothing much.”
“Did you talk to your dad?”
She nodded. “He said to feel free to toss his name around with Justin. I hope it doesn’t come to that.” She looked up at Owen. “I’m meeting Justin on Friday at six in Providence.”
“We’ll take the three-thirty
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