that she loved Tag. But his wanting to go baby shoe shopping was a rush. Flynn practically peeing on him and Tag still not running screaming was indescribable.
She hadn’t been aware that men like Tag even existed. And the sad truth was that she’d been better off not knowing. Because then she didn’t have to wonder what if? What if she’d never met Phil? Never been emotionally destroyed by him? What if she’d met a man likeTag first? Or even Tag himself? How might her life have turned out differently?
Hand clamped over her forehead, she stopped, sitting hard on a log bench.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to the squirrel chattering in the oak tree above her. One minute she was enjoying Tag’s company, the next she was snapping his head off. What was wrong with her? Tag no doubt thought she was a total head case.
Speaking of the handsome lug…
With Flynn looking safe and loved in his arms, Tag strolled down the path. “You’ve been gone more than fifteen minutes and I heard thunder. I was worried.”
He was worried?
Her heart lurched. No, no, no. She wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. He wasn’t even remotely hunky, standing there holding her grinning son— their grinning son.
“I, um, want to apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have flipped out over a few simple words.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said, only just now realizing that she was. “I blew everything out of proportion. I do that a lot. Maybe even with Phil I should’ve—”
“Don’t even go there. Phil was an ass.”
“Yes,” she said with a firm nod and smile. “Yes, he was. How insightful of you to bring that to my attention.”
He bowed his head. “My pleasure.” Sighing, he asked, “Truce?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. I hate to fight.”
“Me, too.” She smiled.
He smiled.
He held out his hand. “Walk with us?”
If the knot in her throat grew any bigger, she thought, she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Not trusting her voice, she interlocked her fingers with his.
T AG, BEING A MAN AND ALL , couldn’t be sure, but after their blowout, he sensed a change in Olivia. She seemed more relaxed around him. More at peace with their situation.
With a steady rain falling outside and the cabin rumbled by occasional lightning and thunder, he was in the kitchen, washing up and putting away the leftovers from her delicious meal. Glancing over his shoulder, he found her asleep.
Flynn nestled against her chest, she’d curled onto her side, resting her head on two throw pillows. The storm had left the cabin chilly.
Turning off the water, he dried his hands on a dishcloth, grabbed a blanket from Olivia’s bed and quietly tucked it about her and Flynn.
Repositioning, she softly sighed, barely parting her lips.
Gorgeous lips.
Bow-shaped shaded in rose.
The thoughts caught him off guard. She was his son’smother. Not a woman to appraise or view in any way other than platonic.
He made a fire, and once it crackled with warmth, he returned to the dishes. The cabin’s quiet was unnerving. Since losing Maria, he’d learned to live with silence. Didn’t like it, but dealt with it. Now, after a few days of conversation and laughter, he realized how much he’d missed the simple pleasure of sharing his daily life. Meals. Musings on an interesting newspaper article. Nothing earth-shattering, but comforts all the same.
With the kitchen returned to order, Tag found himself at loose ends. Olivia was sleeping soundly, even occasionally snoring. He grinned at the notion that she probably wouldn’t want him witnessing what she’d perceive as a weakness, but he found the chink in her usual defensive armor to be adorable.
Should he turn out the lights and head back to his cabin?
Probably, but he couldn’t bear it. Being with Flynn made him whole once again. Being with the infant’s mother was an added bonus.
After a few minutes’ pacing, he took a book from a ragtag collection shelved on the mantel.
She hadn’t been aware that men like Tag even existed. And the sad truth was that she’d been better off not knowing. Because then she didn’t have to wonder what if? What if she’d never met Phil? Never been emotionally destroyed by him? What if she’d met a man likeTag first? Or even Tag himself? How might her life have turned out differently?
Hand clamped over her forehead, she stopped, sitting hard on a log bench.
“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered to the squirrel chattering in the oak tree above her. One minute she was enjoying Tag’s company, the next she was snapping his head off. What was wrong with her? Tag no doubt thought she was a total head case.
Speaking of the handsome lug…
With Flynn looking safe and loved in his arms, Tag strolled down the path. “You’ve been gone more than fifteen minutes and I heard thunder. I was worried.”
He was worried?
Her heart lurched. No, no, no. She wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. He wasn’t even remotely hunky, standing there holding her grinning son— their grinning son.
“I, um, want to apologize,” he said. “I shouldn’t have flipped out over a few simple words.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said, only just now realizing that she was. “I blew everything out of proportion. I do that a lot. Maybe even with Phil I should’ve—”
“Don’t even go there. Phil was an ass.”
“Yes,” she said with a firm nod and smile. “Yes, he was. How insightful of you to bring that to my attention.”
He bowed his head. “My pleasure.” Sighing, he asked, “Truce?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. I hate to fight.”
“Me, too.” She smiled.
He smiled.
He held out his hand. “Walk with us?”
If the knot in her throat grew any bigger, she thought, she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Not trusting her voice, she interlocked her fingers with his.
T AG, BEING A MAN AND ALL , couldn’t be sure, but after their blowout, he sensed a change in Olivia. She seemed more relaxed around him. More at peace with their situation.
With a steady rain falling outside and the cabin rumbled by occasional lightning and thunder, he was in the kitchen, washing up and putting away the leftovers from her delicious meal. Glancing over his shoulder, he found her asleep.
Flynn nestled against her chest, she’d curled onto her side, resting her head on two throw pillows. The storm had left the cabin chilly.
Turning off the water, he dried his hands on a dishcloth, grabbed a blanket from Olivia’s bed and quietly tucked it about her and Flynn.
Repositioning, she softly sighed, barely parting her lips.
Gorgeous lips.
Bow-shaped shaded in rose.
The thoughts caught him off guard. She was his son’smother. Not a woman to appraise or view in any way other than platonic.
He made a fire, and once it crackled with warmth, he returned to the dishes. The cabin’s quiet was unnerving. Since losing Maria, he’d learned to live with silence. Didn’t like it, but dealt with it. Now, after a few days of conversation and laughter, he realized how much he’d missed the simple pleasure of sharing his daily life. Meals. Musings on an interesting newspaper article. Nothing earth-shattering, but comforts all the same.
With the kitchen returned to order, Tag found himself at loose ends. Olivia was sleeping soundly, even occasionally snoring. He grinned at the notion that she probably wouldn’t want him witnessing what she’d perceive as a weakness, but he found the chink in her usual defensive armor to be adorable.
Should he turn out the lights and head back to his cabin?
Probably, but he couldn’t bear it. Being with Flynn made him whole once again. Being with the infant’s mother was an added bonus.
After a few minutes’ pacing, he took a book from a ragtag collection shelved on the mantel.
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