One Perfect Night by Rachael Johns

He forced his eyes to focus on her eyes instead of what was packaged so delightfully in that little girls’ fantasy outfit.
    She aimed a wand with a glittery star on the end at his chest. “Come through for some breakfast.”
    He frowned for a second, not wanting to step any farther inside her house again. Even standing at the door, he could smell something delicious, something that made the place a home. “I thought we’d go someplace to eat.”
    “No need. I’ve made pancakes.” She turned and there was nothing for him to do but follow her down her tiny hallway into the cozy kitchen.
    She’d made enough pancakes for ten people—a characteristic that reminded him a lot of Auntie Rose. He sat at the table and downed the glass of orange juice she poured for him. She stared at him intently as if she wasn’t a woman dressed as a fairy but a cop about to interrogate him. Suddenly he wished the juice was spiked with something stronger.
    “So.” She smiled. “Dig in. I’ve got maple syrup, sugar and lemon, strawberries, cream.”
    He raised a brow as she laid two thick pancakes on his plate. “Are you trying to fatten me up?”
    She threw her head back in a delicious laugh. “I’m trying to get to your heart and Mum always said the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
    He stiffened.
    “Relax,” she said. “I didn’t mean in that way. I told you I wanted to know all about you before I met your family again. The least I can do before I pry into your soul is give you a good meal.”
    Her words were terrifying but the smiling way she delivered them put him at ease. He didn’t have to tell her any more than he wanted to tell.
    He cut a piece of pancake and lifted it to his lips, but before he slipped it into his mouth, he said, “So, what is it you want to know?”
    “That’s simple.” She began prepping a pancake for herself as she talked. “Why don’t you want to settle down?”
    He looked at her, wondering if he could spin some spiel about wanting to put all his energies into his work but she was going to spend the afternoon with his family as a favor to him and there was no guarantee they wouldn’t mention Kristen. He took a deep breath for courage—as a rule, he didn’t talk about this with anyone.
    “I used to be married.”
     
    Peppa’s mouth dropped open. Married? Past tense. She would never have picked Cameron for a divorcee—he didn’t seem the type to fail at anything. “Oh.” It sounded stupid as soon as she said it but she really couldn’t think of anything better.
    He smirked slightly and kind of laughed. “Most people apologize when I tell them I’m a widower, but ‘oh’? Now that’s classic.” He reached for his juice and almost downed the drink in one gulp.
    Peppa forced her gaping mouth closed and bit her lip on the inane “I’m sorry.” There were so many questions she wanted to ask. She was curious by nature but she hardly knew the guy and she suddenly realized no matter their charade, she didn’t have the right to pry into his personal heartbreak.
    “Don’t look so forlorn.” He reached her hand out and lifted her chin with his rough-skinned thumb. “Life isn’t fair. Bad things happen and all I can do is my best to make sure they don’t happen again.”
    By not getting married, not getting attached…the end of his sentence lingered in the air between them. The thought shouldn’t make her heart ache the way it did.
    “What was she like?” She kicked herself the minute she’d asked. No right to pry, remember? But she was curious. Curious to know what kind of woman had made this sexy, charming but a little bit aloof, successful man turn gooey at the center. She wondered how he’d been different before, how the tragedy had changed him. Hardened his soul.
    He tore his hand from her skin like she’d scorched him and she truly thought for a moment, he might up and leave.
    But he didn’t.
    “She was beautiful.” He paused for breath. “Funny.