After Cole picked up her mother and Sophie, Isabelle took out the bag she’d packed supplies into at the shop before leaving that day. She’d pulled a basic sewing kit that had needles, thread, thimble, ruler, scissors, pins, and pincushion, along with a few pieces of fabric remnants.
She’d bypassed several patriotic pieces and chosen pink cupcakes, unicorns, and kittens leftover scraps instead. Eyeing the colorful cartoon print, she suppressed a giggle. If she had to do this with Zach, she might as well have fun with it.
A knock sounded. When she opened the front door, her breath halted at Zach holding and sweet-talking Bobbin. The yellow tabby cat didn’t usually warm to strangers, but he was purring and rubbing his head against Zach’s arm as if he was dipped in catnip. Figured that her cat would like him.
“Okay to bring him in?”
She stepped aside so he could enter. “Bobbin was a stray who adopted our family. We let him come and go as he pleases. He’s happiest that way.”
Once inside, Bobbin happily cradled in his arms, Zach moved from one embarrassing captured moment hanging on the living room wall to the next, studying each one as if he was putting it to memory.
“I’m not very photogenic,” she explained when he paused at her cap and gown senior photo, displayed next to Sophie’s gorgeous smiled one.
“You’re beautiful, Blondie. A photo is always going to pale in comparison to the real deal, but never doubt how attractive you are on the outside, but even better, on the inside. That’s a rare combo.”
“I, um, thank you.” Warm and fuzzy heat fluttered in her belly. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but I do appreciate your kind words.”
“Nothing kind about telling the truth.” He moved on to a collection of framed snapshots.
Cheeks warm, she moved closer to where he looked and couldn’t keep from smiling at the full of love pictures proudly displayed. “Sophie got a kiddie camera from Santa when she was seven. That morning and every year since, she takes a Christmas morning photo.”
He gestured toward where clearer photos started. “Looks as if she upgraded her camera.”
“Very observant. I gave her a camera for her sixteenth birthday.”
He turned, met her gaze, and his hazel gaze had her stomach flip-flopping. Why was he looking at her that way? As if he could see right inside her to her very being?
Breaking eye contact, she took Bobbin from him. The cat gave her a what-are-you-doing look, slapping her hand with his paw once before wanting down. Isabelle put him down.
Watching the cat head to Sophie’s room, she sighed. “We should get started with your lesson.”
“Aren’t we going to look at the photo albums that have photos of your father first?”
“I suppose we should.” Her flip-floppity stomach contracted into a tight ball. He was right. They should find the pictures first. Her family would likely return within an hour.
“You don’t like sharing personal things, do you?”
Not meeting his gaze, she shook her head. “Not with strangers.”
“We’re not strangers.”
Because he really could read her thoughts and knew her better than anyone?
“Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be in my house, about to look through my life,” she reminded, walking over to the end table cabinet where her mother kept old photo albums.
“Afraid I’ll learn all your secrets?”
“You already know my worst one.”
His tone had been teasing, but her embarrassment burned deep. Feeling his gaze boring into her, she bent to pull out a stack of albums.
“If your father leaving is your worst secret, then you’re luckier than you think.”
His tone implied that he had secrets far darker. Part of her wanted to ask, but to do so implied an intimacy she didn’t want to encourage. They were business partners. Nothing more.
She placed the photo albums on the coffee table, then sat on the sofa. “Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Seven
