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Brooke pushed away from the counter and came to his side. “I’m not a sous-chef like my sister, but I can cut up lettuce and tomatoes.”
“Knives are in that drawer. Bowls are up there.” He pointed as he removed steaks from the freezer, then popped them into the microwave to thaw.
A.J. dragged a toy computer and a chunky truck into the kitchen. The truck clattered onto the natural stone tile and the toddler followed it down. Brooke bent to press a button on the computer and activated the ABC song. A.J. patted his hands and sang along.
Gabe hadn’t been in a kitchen with an unrelated woman in a long time, but he was glad to be here with Brooke. He liked watching her with A.J. He liked joking with her and hearing her giggle, though the sound reminded him of her age. He even liked the hum in his blood he’d thought had died long before Tara did.
Coming back to life was both pleasure and discomfort. As much as he tried to pretend that he wasn’t attracted to Brooke Clayton, he was.
For A.J.’s sake and his own, he’d have to be very careful.
Chapter Six
“This is amazing.” Brooke leaned back in her patio chair with a deeply satisfied sigh. “I’ve never had corn like this before.”
With A.J. in a booster chair between them, Brooke and Gabe finished off their impromptu backyard cookout. For the past hour, they’d talked. The sun had slipped behind the mountains a few minutes ago and silvery gray twilight shimmered around them.
She’d told him about the inheritance. He’d told her about the mine and his vision of resurrecting the dying town of Clayton with a shot in its economic arm. She’d told him about the town and the people, about her siblings and growing up here. She’d even told him about her grandfather’s will.
Gabe Wesson was an easy man to talk to. He listened as though he’d remember, something Marty had never done—though she’d reminded herself more than once that Gabe was her neighbor, a nice widower with a son, not her college boyfriend.
Still, there was something shimmering in the dusky evening air, in the occasional tease and laugh and quick glance, that indicated more than friendly neighbors.
“I think A.J.’s getting sleepy,” Gabe said with a hitch of his chin toward the toddler whose head bobbed and his eyelids drooped. “Ready for bed, little man?”
A.J. jerked to attention, eyelids batting to stay awake. “No.”
Both adults laughed. Brooke had never seen a better father than Gabe. He was the perfect mix of tender and tough. Though he was doing a great job with his son, Brooke’s heart hurt a little to think of the boy as motherless. Even with all the problems in her home after Lucy’s death, Brooke couldn’t imagine not having a mother. Surely, a man like Gabe would remarry someday. Would a stepmother love this precious baby the way he deserved?
Without stopping to think of all the reasons she shouldn’t, Brooke let instinct take over. She pulled A.J. onto her lap and began to rock. “He’s tired. When is his bedtime?”
Gabe glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago.”
A.J. snuggled against her T-shirt and sighed. Brooke’s heart squeezed. Given half a chance, she could fall in love with her neighbor’s son. The yearning inside to have and to love a child grew every time she saw him. She looked up at Gabe. He watched her rocking his son with a curious expression on his face. Brooke suddenly had the bizarre thought that she could fall in love with the father, too. This time her heart dipped, falling with a sick thud to the pit of her stomach. She must be going crazy. All the stress of the past week had loosened a screw in her head. She barely knew Gabe Wesson.
“Mind if I ask you something personal?”
A nerve inside Brooke jerked. “Go ahead.”
“Even if the inheritance works out, don’t you want to use your degree? Don’t you want more out of life than money?”
“Interesting that you should ask because I’ve been mulling that very thing,” she said, rocking back and forth, one hand cradling A.J.’s head, the other his back. “I don’t really want to be an heiress. Not that I can’t use the money, but the idea of doing nothing holds no appeal. I like goals. Plans.”
