“Where’s your elephant?”
Liam squirmed.
Bill placed him on the ground.
The kid ran to the kitchen, darting past Grace, who stood in the doorway. She wore a pair of boot-cut jeans and a baggy forest-green, long-sleeved T-shirt that hid her waistline and chest. The kind of shirt women wore when they didn’t want a man to notice their assets.
But Bill already knew.
Grace was luscious. His good manners, not her camouflage shirt, kept her safe from prying eyes and fingers. Though the thought of slipping his hands up her shirt made his mind go blank and his temperature rise.
Stop. He’d gone over this. Seducing Grace would be wrong. She needed someone reliable, someone long-term, someone not destined to repeat the mistakes of his father.
Bill wasn’t about to hurt a woman and child with false promises and vows.
“Good morning.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Your welcoming committee has been waiting for you. Liam has been up since six.”
Bill wished she wanted to be part of the committee, too. He liked being welcomed home. Especially with her wearing those jeans. Unlike her blouse, the denim hugged the curve of her hips nicely, leaving nothing to his imagination. “No sleeping in for you.”
“I’m used to it. How was your shift?”
“The same as usual. Whatever you’re making smells delicious.”
Grace and the aroma of her cooking dragged him in like a tractor beam.
“Baked French toast.” She glanced back in the direction Liam had gone. “It’s almost ready if you want some.”
Bill looked at his watch. He was supposed to be meeting Thomas and Welton to ski, but he didn’t want to be rude. He would text Leanne to let her know he was running late. “Sounds great.”
“I’ll add another place setting to the table.”
His table never had place settings. Not until Grace arrived. He liked coming home to food cooking, and sitting at the table together for a meal, something he had only at his parents’ house during holidays.
He followed her into the kitchen.
Liam sat on the floor next to the plastic bin full of toys Bill had brought in from the truck. Laughing, the kid held Peanut with one hand and an airplane with the other.
“Settling in,” Bill said.
“I hope that’s okay.”
She sounded nervous. He wanted to reassure her. “It’s fine.”
And it was. Surprisingly.
He liked coming home not to an empty house, but one full of warmth and laughter and home cooking. This was what Hughes, Porter and Moreno must mean when they talked about their families and wanting to be home. Well, except the cooking for Hughes. His wife, Zoe, could burn water. “I didn’t leave you with transportation if you needed groceries or something.”
“You’re pretty stocked with groceries for a guy who lives alone.” Grace motioned to the bag of powdered sugar, the can of whipped cream and what looked like defrosted berries. “We had everything we needed and then some, thanks to your mom.”
His stomach plummeted to his feet and kept right on going. “My mom was here?”
“Tuesday morning.”
He smacked his forehead with his palm. “I forgot to tell her not to come.”
“We were both a little...startled. Your mom thought I was one of your women.”
“She didn’t.”
“She called me your lover.”
“I’m sorry.” And he was. “My mom has definite views about the women I date. She doesn’t approve of any of them. Thinks I can do better.”
“At least she loves you.”
He still couldn’t believe how badly her parents had treated her and Liam. “I’m sorry about your folks. Maybe time has softened their hearts.”
“I’ve tried. I finally gave up. They want nothing to do with us.” Grace’s voice held no regret, only resignation. “Your mom’s a little over the top, but it’s nice to see a parent care so much for her child.”
“I’m all my mom has.”
“Only kid?” Grace asked.
“Yeah. When I was seven, she got pregnant again, but she miscarried and
Liam squirmed.
Bill placed him on the ground.
The kid ran to the kitchen, darting past Grace, who stood in the doorway. She wore a pair of boot-cut jeans and a baggy forest-green, long-sleeved T-shirt that hid her waistline and chest. The kind of shirt women wore when they didn’t want a man to notice their assets.
But Bill already knew.
Grace was luscious. His good manners, not her camouflage shirt, kept her safe from prying eyes and fingers. Though the thought of slipping his hands up her shirt made his mind go blank and his temperature rise.
Stop. He’d gone over this. Seducing Grace would be wrong. She needed someone reliable, someone long-term, someone not destined to repeat the mistakes of his father.
Bill wasn’t about to hurt a woman and child with false promises and vows.
“Good morning.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Your welcoming committee has been waiting for you. Liam has been up since six.”
Bill wished she wanted to be part of the committee, too. He liked being welcomed home. Especially with her wearing those jeans. Unlike her blouse, the denim hugged the curve of her hips nicely, leaving nothing to his imagination. “No sleeping in for you.”
“I’m used to it. How was your shift?”
“The same as usual. Whatever you’re making smells delicious.”
Grace and the aroma of her cooking dragged him in like a tractor beam.
“Baked French toast.” She glanced back in the direction Liam had gone. “It’s almost ready if you want some.”
Bill looked at his watch. He was supposed to be meeting Thomas and Welton to ski, but he didn’t want to be rude. He would text Leanne to let her know he was running late. “Sounds great.”
“I’ll add another place setting to the table.”
His table never had place settings. Not until Grace arrived. He liked coming home to food cooking, and sitting at the table together for a meal, something he had only at his parents’ house during holidays.
He followed her into the kitchen.
Liam sat on the floor next to the plastic bin full of toys Bill had brought in from the truck. Laughing, the kid held Peanut with one hand and an airplane with the other.
“Settling in,” Bill said.
“I hope that’s okay.”
She sounded nervous. He wanted to reassure her. “It’s fine.”
And it was. Surprisingly.
He liked coming home not to an empty house, but one full of warmth and laughter and home cooking. This was what Hughes, Porter and Moreno must mean when they talked about their families and wanting to be home. Well, except the cooking for Hughes. His wife, Zoe, could burn water. “I didn’t leave you with transportation if you needed groceries or something.”
“You’re pretty stocked with groceries for a guy who lives alone.” Grace motioned to the bag of powdered sugar, the can of whipped cream and what looked like defrosted berries. “We had everything we needed and then some, thanks to your mom.”
His stomach plummeted to his feet and kept right on going. “My mom was here?”
“Tuesday morning.”
He smacked his forehead with his palm. “I forgot to tell her not to come.”
“We were both a little...startled. Your mom thought I was one of your women.”
“She didn’t.”
“She called me your lover.”
“I’m sorry.” And he was. “My mom has definite views about the women I date. She doesn’t approve of any of them. Thinks I can do better.”
“At least she loves you.”
He still couldn’t believe how badly her parents had treated her and Liam. “I’m sorry about your folks. Maybe time has softened their hearts.”
“I’ve tried. I finally gave up. They want nothing to do with us.” Grace’s voice held no regret, only resignation. “Your mom’s a little over the top, but it’s nice to see a parent care so much for her child.”
“I’m all my mom has.”
“Only kid?” Grace asked.
“Yeah. When I was seven, she got pregnant again, but she miscarried and
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