entire body tingled with an electrified awareness.
“But we can’t make a new Becca, and we can’t make a new Allie, either.” His soft breaths teased the hairs on the back of her neck as he set the bowl on the counter in front of her.
Apparently he wasn’t done torturing her, for one hand slid over the curve of her hip and into the right front pocket of his robe. Before she could think to protest, he slid his hands onto her shoulders and turned her.
“Go take a shower.” He steered her around the center island and across the kitchen. “Go raid my drawers again. I have sweats in there, bottom drawer if I’m not mistaken, that might be a bit big on you, but I’m sure they’ll work in a pinch. When we’re finished with breakfast, we’ll drop Allie off with Malia and the girls for a few hours. She’s tiny, like you. She might have something you could borrow until we can go shopping. She called last night, after you fell asleep, and she said she’d watch Allie while you and I go over the wreckage. Together. She said to tell you she’s glad you’re all right and not to worry. She wanted me to remind you that you’re not alone, and if you need her, to call her.”
She planted her feet, stopping them several feet from the entrance, and shot a frown over her shoulder. “Together?”
Yeah, she hadn’t missed that.
“Mmm. I’ll be going with you, because I don’t think you should do that alone.” He released her shoulders, then swatted her backside, like she was an insolent child making a nuisance of herself. “Now go shower, because after breakfast, I’m going to want one, too. If you’ll excuse me, it’s six fifty-eight. Allie gets up at seven o’clock on the nose, and she and I always make breakfast together on Saturdays.”
Although the light sound of his footsteps moved away from her, Becca remained frozen to her spot. The wooden floor cool and smooth beneath her bare feet, she stared at the white wall opposite her. It was all she could do. Stand and process. One minute she wanted to drop the man for being . . . well, Jackson. The next he was kicking her out of the kitchen, showing her sides of himself she would have sworn only a few months ago didn’t exist.
She drew her brows together and glanced back over her shoulder. He now stood in front of the stove, cracking eggs into the bowl he’d gotten down for her. “Since when can you cook?”
The man couldn’t cook to save his life. He’d always hired someone to do it for him. When they first met, he had a personal chef who filled his freezer once a week with individual meals he could microwave.
A low chuckle rumbled as he began to beat the eggs with a wire whisk. “I can’t. Allie taught me how to make the eggs.” He shook his head. “She has to make the toast, though, ’cause I always burn it.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her, and she pressed her lips together. Jackson’s head snapped in her direction, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of delight and confusion. Yeah, she couldn’t remember the last time he made her laugh, either.
Unease churned in her stomach. Twelve hours back in this house and already he’d gotten to her, seeping under her skin when she least expected it.
I am so doomed.
***
Two hours later, Becca stood in the remains of what used to be her beautiful little kitchen. After dropping Allie off with Malia, who’d hugged the stuffing out of her then given her enough clean clothing for a week, they’d come straight here. Firemen had been on scene when she and Jackson arrived. Apparently, they kept a close eye on the place for the first twenty-four hours, and insisted on escorting her and Jackson onto the premises. Safety first. He stood politely behind her, in what used to be her hallway.
“Is there something specific you’re looking for, ma’am?” he asked.
His voice was full of compassion and he didn’t press for an answer, for which she was grateful, because she wasn’t sure she could
“But we can’t make a new Becca, and we can’t make a new Allie, either.” His soft breaths teased the hairs on the back of her neck as he set the bowl on the counter in front of her.
Apparently he wasn’t done torturing her, for one hand slid over the curve of her hip and into the right front pocket of his robe. Before she could think to protest, he slid his hands onto her shoulders and turned her.
“Go take a shower.” He steered her around the center island and across the kitchen. “Go raid my drawers again. I have sweats in there, bottom drawer if I’m not mistaken, that might be a bit big on you, but I’m sure they’ll work in a pinch. When we’re finished with breakfast, we’ll drop Allie off with Malia and the girls for a few hours. She’s tiny, like you. She might have something you could borrow until we can go shopping. She called last night, after you fell asleep, and she said she’d watch Allie while you and I go over the wreckage. Together. She said to tell you she’s glad you’re all right and not to worry. She wanted me to remind you that you’re not alone, and if you need her, to call her.”
She planted her feet, stopping them several feet from the entrance, and shot a frown over her shoulder. “Together?”
Yeah, she hadn’t missed that.
“Mmm. I’ll be going with you, because I don’t think you should do that alone.” He released her shoulders, then swatted her backside, like she was an insolent child making a nuisance of herself. “Now go shower, because after breakfast, I’m going to want one, too. If you’ll excuse me, it’s six fifty-eight. Allie gets up at seven o’clock on the nose, and she and I always make breakfast together on Saturdays.”
Although the light sound of his footsteps moved away from her, Becca remained frozen to her spot. The wooden floor cool and smooth beneath her bare feet, she stared at the white wall opposite her. It was all she could do. Stand and process. One minute she wanted to drop the man for being . . . well, Jackson. The next he was kicking her out of the kitchen, showing her sides of himself she would have sworn only a few months ago didn’t exist.
She drew her brows together and glanced back over her shoulder. He now stood in front of the stove, cracking eggs into the bowl he’d gotten down for her. “Since when can you cook?”
The man couldn’t cook to save his life. He’d always hired someone to do it for him. When they first met, he had a personal chef who filled his freezer once a week with individual meals he could microwave.
A low chuckle rumbled as he began to beat the eggs with a wire whisk. “I can’t. Allie taught me how to make the eggs.” He shook his head. “She has to make the toast, though, ’cause I always burn it.”
A bubble of laughter escaped her, and she pressed her lips together. Jackson’s head snapped in her direction, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of delight and confusion. Yeah, she couldn’t remember the last time he made her laugh, either.
Unease churned in her stomach. Twelve hours back in this house and already he’d gotten to her, seeping under her skin when she least expected it.
I am so doomed.
***
Two hours later, Becca stood in the remains of what used to be her beautiful little kitchen. After dropping Allie off with Malia, who’d hugged the stuffing out of her then given her enough clean clothing for a week, they’d come straight here. Firemen had been on scene when she and Jackson arrived. Apparently, they kept a close eye on the place for the first twenty-four hours, and insisted on escorting her and Jackson onto the premises. Safety first. He stood politely behind her, in what used to be her hallway.
“Is there something specific you’re looking for, ma’am?” he asked.
His voice was full of compassion and he didn’t press for an answer, for which she was grateful, because she wasn’t sure she could
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