His stomach lurched.“I’ll pass.You go ahead.”
She handed him the fruit to cut, then she mashed the slices onto the flattened toast.While he poured the milk, she dished out two bowls of fruit.They each got a serving, as did the table.Only a couple of chunks hit the floor.He stepped around them and resumed his seat.
“Good, huh?”A milk moustache outlined the top of her mouth.Crumbs stuck to the peanut butter on her cheek.
Ignoring her engaging grin would require a man stronger than himself.“Yeah, it’s good.”He folded the newspaper and set it on the extra chair.
They chatted through their meal.Billie discussed the school she’d left behind and her friends.Although she must miss them, her outgoing nature would make it easy to settle in.
“There’s a couple of softball leagues in town,” he said.“Perhaps I could have a word with the coaches and see if there’s any room for another player.”
The last bit of her toast fell back to the plate untasted.Bigbrown eyes got bigger.“You’d do that?For me?After I broke your window?”
Adam cleared his throat.“It’s no trouble.Besides, I have a lot more glass to worry about.If you’re off playing on a team, I’ll rest easier.”
“You’re the best.”
She flew out of her seat and around the table, then flung herself against him.Thin arms, small but surprisingly strong, tightened around his neck.She smelled of soap and milk and peanut butter.The kiss on his cheek was sticky and wet, but he didn’t pull back.Little girls and their dreams were out of the realm of his expertise but there was something about Billie that would be easy to get used to.
“I promise I’ll never break a window again,” she said.
“That’s some promise.”
She giggled.“Okay.I’lltrynever to break a window again.”
“Better.”He laughed.
“You’re up early.”
Adam stiffened at the sound of a new voice and glanced up.Jane hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen.Her eyes flickered from Billie, still standing next to him, to the table and back.
“We had breakfast together,” her daughter said.“Adam helped.And he’s going to see if I can play softball this summer.Isn’t that cool?I’m gonna go tell Charlene.”She turned to run out the back door.With her hand on the knob, she paused.“Is this the way?”
“Her house is down the path about two minutes.There’s only one.You can’t miss it,” he said.
“Bye.Oh, morning, Mom.”The door slammed shut behind her.
“All that energy first thing in the morning.”Jane offered a tentative smile.“I’ll just grab a cup of coffee, then leave you in peace.”
“There’s no need to rush off on my account.”Even to his own ears, the words sounded stiff.He wanted her out of his sight—out of his life—as soon as possible, but he’d be damned if he’d allow her to figure that out.“Help yourself to breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”Jane walked over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup.“You’ve made a friend for life.”
The sundress she wore fit tightly across her back, then flared out to fall in soft folds just at her knees.The bright magenta fabric added a glow to the light tan on her shoulders and arms.Once again, her hair had been pulled back in a thick braid.The slightly damp rope gleamed in the light.
He hated the way his fingers curled, as if to encircle the braid.His gaze drifted down past the curve of her calves to bare feet with painted toenails.With a suddenness that surprised him, his mind filled with a picture from another time, so long ago.She’d been getting ready for a date with him.He’d dropped by unexpectedly and had caught her in the middle of her preparations.Fat pink curlers had covered her head.A ratty shirt, stolen from her father’s closet, concealed her body to mid-thigh.She sat on the floor, her long legs bent, a tissue woven between her toes.Even now he could inhale the acrid scent of nail polish, see the tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, hear the shriek when she’d looked up and seen him watching her.
Her blush had climbed clear to her hairline, then dipped to the cleavage showing in the V of the white shirt.She tried to run from him, but he caught her easily.His body heated at the memory.Her protest had died amid roving hands and joined mouths.Later that night she’d been beautiful.A woman.But what he remembered was the teenager in curlers, shy but eager, trying desperately to please.He’d wanted more, he’d realized that day.Had wanted it all.So that had been the night he’d made his decision.It had changed everything.
The hiss from the coffeemaker as she replaced the pot recalled him to the present.
“My desire to get Billie on a softball team is purely selfish,” he said.“Just looking out for my property.”
“I’ll take care of that window today.I know you’re working, so I’ll go to the hardware store.”
“Working?”He frowned.“It’s Saturday.”
“I know.But you usually worked…I thought you’d still.”She turned to face him, her eyes averted.“My mistake.”
