“You had more character at fourteen than I did ten years ago when I let you go. I think maybe you’ve always known exactly who you are and what you wanted out of life. I’m just finding out about myself. I’m not so sure I like what I’m discovering.”
He turned away and busied himself getting the silverware for the table. Zelda’s hesitant hand on his shoulder sent a wave of pure longing washing through him, a longing for something as real and normal as a wife and home, nights like this with their teasing intimacy.
He glanced back at her and saw that she was regarding him quizzically. Because he didn’t want her fussing over him or asking a lot of unanswerable questions, he met that inquisitive gaze with a defiant look.
“Don’t go making anything out of that,” he warned.
His sharp tone didn’t seem to faze her, however. Her gaze never wavered.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Taylor,” she scolded. “Remember, you’re still the man I fell in love with. Anyone who could capture Zelda Lane’s hard heart couldn’t be all bad, now could they?”
He was prevented from answering by Caitlin’s noisy arrival. It was just as well, he told himself. He’d had no idea what to say, what Zelda had expected him to say. Just as he was trying to puzzle out the answer to that, he heard Caitlin’s dismayed yelp, followed almost immediately by Zelda’s unrestrained hoot of laughter.
Glancing their way, he groaned at the sight that greeted him.
“Daddy,” Caitlin scolded, “you burned dinner again.”
Zelda winked at him. “Habit, I guess.”
Chapter Eight
T aylor grabbed a pot holder and snatched the smoldering casserole from the oven. “It’s just a little crisp around the edges,” he informed them, fanning aside the smoke.
Zelda peered over his shoulder, the exotic scent of her perfume counterpointed by the aroma of burned noodles. “Crisp?” she repeated. “Quite an understatement, I’d say.”
“It’s still edible,” Taylor insisted.
“I don’t want any,” his traitorous daughter insisted. “It’s yucky.”
Taylor refused to meet Zelda’s gaze. Given how the dish had wound up in its charred state, he could just imagine the sparks of tolerant I-told-you-so amusement lighting her eyes.
“Okay, I’ll put a frozen pizza in for you,” he told Caitlin. “Zelda, how about you? Pizza or some of this delicious casserole.”
Caitlin regarded their guest expectantly.
“Your mother didn’t know I’d be here when she sent this over, right?” Zelda inquired.
His gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Right,” he agreed. “So, what’s your point?”
“Then I suppose I could risk the casserole,” she said thoughtfully. “Surely a little charcoal won’t poison me, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to undermine your masculine pride.”
He shot her a wry look. “Very funny. My ego doesn’t need any mercy stroking by you.”
That devilish glint immediately rose in her eyes. “Oh, really?” she said softly.
He cast a warning look in Caitlin’s direction. His daughter, however, seemed oblivious to the innuendos. She’d climbed on a chair, removed a pizza from the freezer and already had it on a baking sheet. It was all too obvious that it was a routine they’d been through before. Taylor avoided looking at Zelda as he took the pizza from Caitlin, put it in the oven and turned up the heat.
“I’ll watch it, Daddy,” she informed him.
Zelda shot her a conspiratorial grin. “I think that’s probably a very good idea, Caitlin. Your father seems to be easily distracted tonight.”
Taylor couldn’t think of a single response he could utter with his impressionable daughter in the room. It didn’t prevent him from regarding Zelda in a way that promised very sweet revenge for her sassy tongue. He hadn’t looked forward to anything so much in ages, a fact that scared the daylights out of him.
* * *
Zelda spent Saturday having another long talk with herself. It was getting to
He turned away and busied himself getting the silverware for the table. Zelda’s hesitant hand on his shoulder sent a wave of pure longing washing through him, a longing for something as real and normal as a wife and home, nights like this with their teasing intimacy.
He glanced back at her and saw that she was regarding him quizzically. Because he didn’t want her fussing over him or asking a lot of unanswerable questions, he met that inquisitive gaze with a defiant look.
“Don’t go making anything out of that,” he warned.
His sharp tone didn’t seem to faze her, however. Her gaze never wavered.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Taylor,” she scolded. “Remember, you’re still the man I fell in love with. Anyone who could capture Zelda Lane’s hard heart couldn’t be all bad, now could they?”
He was prevented from answering by Caitlin’s noisy arrival. It was just as well, he told himself. He’d had no idea what to say, what Zelda had expected him to say. Just as he was trying to puzzle out the answer to that, he heard Caitlin’s dismayed yelp, followed almost immediately by Zelda’s unrestrained hoot of laughter.
Glancing their way, he groaned at the sight that greeted him.
“Daddy,” Caitlin scolded, “you burned dinner again.”
Zelda winked at him. “Habit, I guess.”
Chapter Eight
T aylor grabbed a pot holder and snatched the smoldering casserole from the oven. “It’s just a little crisp around the edges,” he informed them, fanning aside the smoke.
Zelda peered over his shoulder, the exotic scent of her perfume counterpointed by the aroma of burned noodles. “Crisp?” she repeated. “Quite an understatement, I’d say.”
“It’s still edible,” Taylor insisted.
“I don’t want any,” his traitorous daughter insisted. “It’s yucky.”
Taylor refused to meet Zelda’s gaze. Given how the dish had wound up in its charred state, he could just imagine the sparks of tolerant I-told-you-so amusement lighting her eyes.
“Okay, I’ll put a frozen pizza in for you,” he told Caitlin. “Zelda, how about you? Pizza or some of this delicious casserole.”
Caitlin regarded their guest expectantly.
“Your mother didn’t know I’d be here when she sent this over, right?” Zelda inquired.
His gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Right,” he agreed. “So, what’s your point?”
“Then I suppose I could risk the casserole,” she said thoughtfully. “Surely a little charcoal won’t poison me, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to undermine your masculine pride.”
He shot her a wry look. “Very funny. My ego doesn’t need any mercy stroking by you.”
That devilish glint immediately rose in her eyes. “Oh, really?” she said softly.
He cast a warning look in Caitlin’s direction. His daughter, however, seemed oblivious to the innuendos. She’d climbed on a chair, removed a pizza from the freezer and already had it on a baking sheet. It was all too obvious that it was a routine they’d been through before. Taylor avoided looking at Zelda as he took the pizza from Caitlin, put it in the oven and turned up the heat.
“I’ll watch it, Daddy,” she informed him.
Zelda shot her a conspiratorial grin. “I think that’s probably a very good idea, Caitlin. Your father seems to be easily distracted tonight.”
Taylor couldn’t think of a single response he could utter with his impressionable daughter in the room. It didn’t prevent him from regarding Zelda in a way that promised very sweet revenge for her sassy tongue. He hadn’t looked forward to anything so much in ages, a fact that scared the daylights out of him.
* * *
Zelda spent Saturday having another long talk with herself. It was getting to
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