“Oh my goodness, I just went rummaging through your father’s old things. And he’s…he’s not around anymore, is he?”
Gideon shook his head. “He died eighteen—almost nineteen years ago.”
“I’m so sorry. I should never have snooped?—”
“It’s fine, Sadie.” He tossed the scrap of fabric back in the box. “We lived here when I was a baby, but my parents moved out as soon as my mother got pregnant with Jack. Dad had plansto fix the place up, expand it, but…” He shrugged. “Never happened.”
His mother hadn’t been at the wedding either, and no one had mentioned her. I wanted to ask about her, but Gideon’s lips had twisted when he’d mentioned her. I could sense him closing himself off, and I knew we didn’t have the kind of relationship where we shared that depth of pain with each other. So I let it go, even though I wished he’d trust me with it.
Finally, he tilted his head toward the main room. “Thanks for cleaning.”
I straightened. Henry had never thanked me for doing any chores. I shrugged and said, “It’s no problem. The place needed a bit of freshening up.”
“I’ll make dinner,” he said. “You like salmon?”
“You can cook?”
I must have sounded a little too incredulous because Gideon gave me a flat look and said, “Yes, Sadie. I can cook. Do I not look like I can cook?”
“You look like you eat microwave meals that say things like ‘MUSCLE BULK’ and ‘ULTIMATE FITNESS’ and ‘OPTIMIZED MACROS’ on the packaging.”
His lips twitched. “That was rude.”
“It’s a compliment!” I gestured at his biceps. “These things don’t grow themselves.”
He growled low in his throat, and a spark lit between my legs. Bad Sadie! We weren’t doing that. We were never doing that. We were just testing out a convenient arrangement where we both got to live our lives without other people’s unwanted involvement.
Gideon stood in an easy movement, then extended a handtoward me. Before I could reconsider, I slipped my palm against his and let him tug me to my feet. We stood inches apart, and I fought to forget how good it had felt to be in his arms.
This feeling would fade. It had to. Gideon didn’t want me that way; I was only torturing myself by wanting him. I tore my gaze away and tilted my head toward the bathroom. “I need a shower,” I said. “Then I can help you prep dinner.”
He made a noise of acknowledgement, then stalked down the hallway toward the kitchen. I couldn’t resist the urge to watch the movement of his body as he retreated, then cursed myself and disappeared into the bathroom. A cold shower brought my brain back online, and then I was able to make it through dinner without imagining Gideon’s hands on my body. Mostly.
The following day,there was a half-sweet almond milk matcha latte waiting for me on the kitchen counter when I woke up. Gideon was gone, only returning to pick me up for Sunday family lunch. I brought the bolt of pink silk as well as a sketchbook I unearthed from the box of work things I’d left in the corner of the garage. Lola’s eyes lit up when she saw me approach with the fabric, and she leaped up from her seat beside Wendy and the baby to come see me.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked excitedly.
I grinned. “I thought we could come up with some ideas today. You like the color?” I set my sketchbook down on the nearest table and unfurled the fabric, holding it up under Lola’s chin. We turned toward the gilded antique mirror hanging on the wall, and her hands stroked the soft pink silk.
“I love it,” she whispered.
“It looks great against your skin tone,” I agreed. “I found it at the cottage. It was meant to be.”
Lola beamed at me, then did a little excited dance and reached in her pocket for her phone. “I’ll show you what I like,” she said.
We found the nearest chairs—stuffy, carved wood chairs with backs that were too straight—and bent our heads toward each other to look at inspiration photos. I put my sketchbook on my lap and started jotting down ideas. Half an hour later, we had the beginnings of a design.
“Ohmigod!” Lola clapped her hands, and I couldn’t help but grin in response. She reached over and wrapped her arms around my neck, squeezing me in a tight hug.
Over her shoulder, I met Gideon’s eyes. I couldn’t read his expression, but I thought he might have been pleased with me. Happiness glowed like hot coals in my belly for the rest of the day. When we got home, I unpacked my sewing machine from the box and set it up in the corner of the dining room table where the light from the windows was best. I would need muslin to start drafting Lola’s dress, and some new thread. My machine needed to be oiled and cleaned. Other than my own wedding dress, I hadn’t sat down and sewn anything for ages. Certainly not something for someone else, where the details mattered and I couldn’t ignore mistakes.
I decided to practice by making some cushion covers. The couches were in desperate need of fresh throw pillows, and it would give me something to do while my brain worked on how to construct Lola’s dress. I got to work, only looking up whenGideon dropped a glass of water and a plate bearing a cut-up apple and a few slices of cheese next to me.
Shock made me blink. “You made me a snack,” I said.
“You haven’t stopped working since we got home,” he grumbled. “You need to eat something.”
And you have to stop doing things like this for me, I almost replied. My heart had gone all gooey and soft, and it was hard to swallow my first bite of apple past the lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I croaked.
