The girl nodded, her dark curls, which were starting to get long again, bouncing. “And Miss Tresia let me help make soup.”
“She did?” He put her down, strode over to the stove, where the steaming soup filled his senses and smiled.
Oh, what that smile did to her!
“It smells good!” He leaned over and dropped a kiss on her mouth—a quick brushing of his lips against hers, like they were married, like he came into the house at the end of each day and greeted her this way.
She felt that one little kiss throughout her entire being. It had been a long time since anyone kissed her and she froze in shock and wonder, the wooden spoon clutched tightly in her hand.
As if one touch of his lips to hers hadn’t been enough, he took a step closer, wrapped his arms around her, and dipped his head once more, touching his mouth to hers.
This time, he didn’t merely brush his lips against hers. This time, it was a full-on assault of her senses as his mouth moved leisurely over hers, tasting her, teasing her, making the blood rush through her veins. His particular scent of sandalwood filled her, and the warmth of his body seeped into hers. She melted into him, unable to stop herself.
Avery squealed with delight, making Devlin break the kiss and back away, as if realizing he’d done such a thing…without permission, without thought. Blood rose to his face and his mouth opened and closed several times before he uttered, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
“It’s all right.” She shrugged like it didn’t matter, like her world hadn’t just turned upside down and sideways. Itdid matter. She tensed, trying desperately to tamp down the runaway emotions that his touch ignited. She didn’t want this, reminding herself once again that he wasn’t part of her plan, and yet, she couldn’t deny that she’d thought about him kissing her like that, of being in his arms, wanting so much more than she should.
She dipped the spoon into the pot, stirred a bit and held it up, all so she wouldn’t have to think about that kiss, even though her hand shook a bit. Chunks of ham and beans clung to the spoon. “Would you like to try it?”
He took a step closer. He didn’t say anything as he took the spoon from her hand and tasted the soup. “Delicious,” he said, but she wasn’t quite sure if he meant the soup or her. There was a spark of something in his eyes, a look that she’d been seeing more and more often.
Heat curled in her belly as she dragged her gaze from his and washed the spoon, concentrating on stilling the emotions soaring through her.
This is ridiculous! Devlin Goodrich is not part of my Plan!She reminded herself again, though it did little good. She paused, waiting till her head was clear. “It’s ready, if you’re hungry.”
“I am,” he said and walked away from her, taking his warmth with him, then sat at the table. Avery made a big production of getting Cecily settled, then climbed on the chair beside him. She took a hunk of bread and pulled the crock of butter closer to her, attempting to butter the bread on her own, once more showing her independent streak.
“Would you like some help?” Devlin asked after a moment.
Avery shook her head. “I can do it myself.”
Tresia brought a soup tureen to the table, but her attention was on Avery as she finally managed to butter the bread. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough and the small successseemed to make her happy. “Good job, Avery,” she said as she ladled out bowls of the thick, hearty soup then glanced at Devlin and gave him a quick nod.
He took the hint and heaped praise on his daughter. Acknowledging a task well done or even the smallest accomplishment went a long way in making a child feel good about themselves. Heck, it could make an adult feel good about themselves, too.
Avery beamed as she took a big bite.
Tresia sat down and gestured toward the bowls on the table. “Eat before it gets cold.”
She watched his mouth as he ate, still feeling the touch of his lips on hers, watched him interact with Avery, his eyes so warm and filled with contentment. Yes, that’s what it was. Contentment. Too bad she didn’t feel the same. That kiss stirred a deep longing in her, something she thought she’d managed to keep at bay, especially when she saw other couples holding hands, their gazes only for each other. Lucy and Ben. Rafael and Ventura. Even Merrill and Polly. And no matter what she told Lucy, she did want love and companionship, someone to share her life with. She also wanted Sullivan’s back—or another store like it—and yes, a husband could help her run it. They could do it together, like she and Brett had done along with her father, but she doubted the marshal would ever give up being a marshal. He loved what he did too much. And she couldn’t find fault with that.
“How was work?”
“Good. It’s quiet here. I like it. The most we’ve had is Mr. Somner staggering into the office and sleeping off a bender in one of the jail cells. Even at that, he’s a pleasant fellow and doesn’t cause any disruption, if you can get past his snoring. I’m not looking to change that.”
“Mr. Somner drinks a little.”
He laughed. “A little?”
She laughed, too. “All right. He drinks a lot. He was an excellent lawyer before his son passed away. He drinks to forget, I think.”
There was a long pause of silence before he said, “The memories are always there.” Sadness shadowed his eyes for a moment then was gone as quickly as it came. “Polly stopped by to bring Merrill lunch.”
“Did she give him the picture of herself that Lucy took?”
“She did. And it’s beautiful. It’s sitting on his desk now and he doesn’t care who sees it.” He smiled. “I think there might be wedding bells in their future.”
“Good for them. She’s a lovely woman, and he’s a very nice man. Lucy sure knew what she was doing when she asked Merrill to pick up pies from Polly’s bakery.”
