Colby glances around the kitchen slowly.
“This place always smells illegal.”
“That’s because butter is involved.”
He smiles. Small. Real. I immediately distrust the effect it has on my nervous system.
“We need rules,” I say before I lose common sense entirely.
His expression shifts back to attentive seriousness instantly.
That should not be attractive. Unfortunately, it is.
“Okay.”
“No sleeping together.”
One dark eyebrow lifts slightly.
“I wasn’t planning to ambush you in the bread aisle.”
Heat rushes into my face. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
His mouth twitches again.
I narrow my eyes. “This is serious.”
His expression sobers immediately. “I know it is.”
That calms me more than it should. I fold my arms tightly anyway. “No emotional attachment.”
This time he pauses slightly before nodding.
“Public appearances only,” I continue. “No fake promises. No pretending this is permanent. And absolutely no confusing Jillie.”
At the mention of her name, something in his expression softens again. Dangerous.
“She’s already been through enough,” I say more quietly now.
Colby doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t rush, just listens. And somehow that makes it harder.
“Jillie’s biological father left when she was little,” I explain, “too little to really remember him. Then Darren stayed long enough to make her trust him before he left too.”
Colby goes very still.
“She spent months asking when Darren was coming back,” I admit. “Months.”
The memory still hurts. Tiny shoes by the door waiting for someone who never showed up. Jillie checking windows. Asking if maybe traffic was bad.
I swallow hard. “I won’t let her go through that again.”
Silence settles briefly between us.
Not awkward. Heavy. Careful.
Then Colby says quietly, “You think I’d hurt her.”
