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Relief flooded his face. She stepped closer, feeling emboldened. There was no denying the attraction she felt for him. She pressed herself closer and watched his eyes darken. “I wanted to make that clear, Mac, about this being a date. The idea appeals to me.”

Shock rippled through his body, but his arms curled around her back to pull her closer. “Kelsey… I can’t give you… I’m leaving soon…”

“I know.” She tilted her face upward.

He hesitated for a millisecond, then his thighs pressed against hers, and his hands moved lower on her waist.

That’s all it took for her. She pulled back. “Okay, now let me finish up this bathroom. I think we’re pretty much done. What time do you want me to come over?”

Mac stepped back, his mouth agape as he collected himself and stowed his brush with hers in the paint pan. “Tomorrow? How about one-ish?”

“Sounds great.” Kelsey replied, trying to hide her smile, as she picked up the painting materials. “See you then.”

Mac hesitated a moment before stepping from the confined space. “Okay then. See you tomorrow.”

After Mac left, Kelsey leaned against the door jam, admiring the fresh paint job and not caring if she got more paint on her clothes. Her skin tingled from their embrace and her heart was racing. The look of shocked desire in his eyes had been worth every ounce of courage it had taken to invite herself on a date and step into his arms.

For the first time since David died, she felt truly alive—and terrified. Not of Mac, but of the intensity of her desire for him. There had been a few men since David had died, but she’d never felt close to the passion she felt near Mac.

He said he couldn’t give her what she wanted, and she wouldn’t force him. But whatever it was between them deserved to be explored. Life was fleeting. They both knew that.

Still, as she surveyed the finished bathroom, she couldn’t stop smiling. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Chapter 12

Mac slammed his car door harder than necessary, striding toward his house with agitated steps. The feeling of Kelsey’s body pressed against his lingered, making it impossible to think clearly. He yanked off his paint spattered shirt as he entered his living room.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pacing the hardwood floors. What was he doing? He’d gone over there without a real plan, but definitely not to invite her out again.

He ran his hands through his hair. The boldness in her eyes. Heat coursed through him at the memory.

“A date,” he said to the empty room. “She wants a date.”

His upcoming sailing trip was supposed to be his escape. He’d been planning for years, organizing his life around the goal of getting away from everything. Leaving it all behind.

But now his grandfather needed him. And instead of doing the right thing—calling it off, maintaining distance—he was reaching for his phone to call his favorite caterer. He caught his reflection in the window as he detailed the menu, barely recognizing the spark of life in his own eyes.

This was dangerous. Kelsey wasn’t some casual fling. She was his grandfather’s nurse, Noah’s mother. She deserved better than a man with one foot already out the door. A man who couldn’t offer her anything beyond temporarily scratching an itch.

Mac sank onto his couch, head in his hands. She knew he was leaving. Knew about his late fiancé, about his broken pieces. And still, she wanted whatever this could be, even if it was temporary.

What made it worse was he wanted it as well. How was he supposed to keep his distance when she made him feel more alive than he had in years?

“Fine,” he said aloud, making his decision. “If she wants a date, I’ll give her a date she won’t forget.”

He pulled up his contact list again, determined to make every detail perfect. Maybe he couldn’t give Kelsey forever, but he could give her this—one perfect evening on the water. One chance to explore this electricity between them before reality caught up.

Kelsey clutched her phone after ending the call, the echo of Noah’s excited chatter about shells still ringing in her ears. His voice had been bright, happy—the way a seven-year-old’s should be. No mention of custody battles or inheritance. No hint that his grandmother and Jason were probably watching his every move, documenting any perceived failing in Kelsey’s parenting.

She wandered into his room, running her fingers over the collection of shells arranged meticulously on his bookshelf. Each one was labeled in his careful handwriting: Found at Bass Point, From the cove behind Mackie’s, Beach near the nursing home. Their life together mapped out in calcium carbonate and mother-of-pearl.

The bed was still unmade from his hasty departure a few days ago, she hadn’t had the heart to straighten it. His pajamas lay crumpled on the floor, one sock inside out. The familiar mess of a boy who knew he had a home to come back to.

“Please,” she whispered to the empty room, sinking onto his bed. “Please don’t take him from me.”

The tears came then, hot and fierce. She pressed her face into his pillow, breathing in the lingering scent of his shampoo and that indefinable something that was just Noah. Her son. Her anchor. The reason she’d learned to smile again after David died.

What would she do if they won? If some judge decided that Margaret’s mansion and Jason’s connections were better for Noah than their cozy house and quiet life? Would Noah become the person that his father didn’t want to be? Privileged and removed from the rest of the world? Had she really done enough for Noah? Could she give him everything he needed, or had her stubborn pride blinded her to what was best for him? Was she selfish for wanting to keep him close, even if it meant denying him opportunities she couldn’t provide?