It was the perfect ending to the day. Feeling more at peace than he had in years, he smiled at her. “Good night, Pixie.”
In a sassy tone, she said, “See you soon, Brogan.” Quickly ducking inside, she closed the door.
The warmth stayed with him on his short drive up to the lake house. He thought about how she’d been. Wonderful in ways he’d never experienced before. Real, but gentle. Funny, yet sincere.
Once she found out that Andy and Shayna had the same father, everything was bound to change. Still, he was glad he hadn’t pushed the issue.
Not tonight.
Next time would be soon enough.
Pixie thought about Brogan a lot over the next few days. Instincts urged her to offer him comfort, but those same instincts warned that he was wary of kindness. The kids were a sort of buffer for him. She sensed he often focused on Shayna, and even Andy, when emotion got the better of him.
It wasn’t anything she could pinpoint. Brogan Rafferty had long ago learned to hide his thoughts behind an enigmatic expression. Other than a few rare occasions, he showed only what he wanted her to see.
And yet, despite his neutral expression and careful words, she often picked up on feelings of unease, hope, and expectation.
His father had clearly been a severe disappointment, and from what he’d said, his stepmother was even worse. Though he hadn’t said too much about his mother, she certainly hadn’t sheltered him or his feelings. His sister had tried to get closer to him, but like many things—family, love, and understanding—he’d missed out with her. Brogan believed he carried the blame for that, but Pixie knew better.
A person could only be rejected so many times before they were no longer receptive.
Was that why he’d made the military his family? A noble decision when he could have chosen many other paths.
Again and again, her thoughts churned over the facets of Brogan’s personality. In some ways, she felt she knew him; in other ways, he was still a stranger.
They had arranged to meet for dinner at her house next Saturday. That felt like a lifetime away, but Pixie firmly reminded herself that she was off the market, that she’d been burned andnow she had her sights on a bigger purpose: her son, her self-respect, her responsibilities.
She was building a new life, not just for herself, but for her son. Yes, she’d made great progress, but she wasn’t there yet.
The problem, at least when it came to getting her mind off Brogan, was that she kept running into him everywhere.
On Monday, she saw him at the grocery store. “Fend!” Andy shouted loudly, almost leaping out of the cart seat. Pixie dropped her loaf of bread and caught him. “Andy Nolan, that’s dangerous.”
“Fend,” he explained, pointing, then bouncing in her arms as Brogan pushed a grocery cart toward them.
When Andy squealed, Brogan said, “Shh, the baby’s sleeping.” Then to Pixie, “And I’ll be better able to finish up my shopping if she stays asleep.”
New energy flowed through Pixie, and she suddenly wondered if the wind had messed her hair and if her clothes were wrinkled after working all day.
She stopped caring when Brogan lifted Andy into his arms for a big hug, all the while smiling. There in the aisle, with townspeople openly speculating, they’d talked for fifteen minutes or so. She felt certain everyone had seen Andy give Shayna a very gentle kiss on the forehead—with Brogan’s help.
On Tuesday, she was just getting Andy out of the car in the bank parking lot when Brogan stepped out with Shayna in his arms.
“Hey, you two.”
Smiling from the inside out, Pixie said, “We have to stop meeting like this.”
He laughed. “I kind of like it.” Again, they lingered for a lengthy chat. Andy was thrilled that Shayna was awake this time and babbled to her in an excited way about who knew what.
“He really likes her, doesn’t he?”
“You have no idea,” Pixie admitted. “Last night, in the middle of his bedtime book, he yawned and asked about her.”
“Oh? How exactly did he articulate that?”
Funny, since many of Andy’s words were indecipherable. “One word,” Pixie explained. “Baby.But he lifts his shoulders and holds up his hands, making it clear he’s asking about her.”
“Ah, yeah, that’s cute. Next time, let me know and I’ll text a pic of her. He’d probably like that, right?”
