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“Looks outstanding.”
His comment earned him a beaming smile from the little girl. He’d learned over the past few weeks that it didn’t take much to make Reese smile.
“And I brought my soccer ball. It’s in my backpack. Can we go practice?”
His worries from earlier disappeared at her enthusiasm. Taylor had told him it was difficult to be upset with Reese around, and she was right.
“I told you not to nag him about that tonight.” Priscilla followed her granddaughter into the house. The warm smile he’d come to associate with the older woman was absent. It was replaced by a subdued, forced one. “She wanted to bring the lacrosse stick over, too. I made her leave it at home.”
Curt accepted the grocery bag containing the ice cream Priscilla handed him. “I’d love to practice soccer again, but how about after dinner? The steaks are already on the grill.”
Reese took her backpack off and left it near the front door. “Mmm. I love steak.”
Even with Taylor’s mom and niece standing there, Curt couldn’t resist moving closer to her and brushing his lips across her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” She sounded and looked distracted. For a moment he wondered if she knew the truth about him. He quickly dismissed the idea. There was no way she’d figured it out from the guarded information he gave her. Something else was bothering her tonight.
He grasped her hand before he spoke again. “We’re eating outside. If you want to head out there, I’ll be there in a minute. Just need to put this away.” He held up the plastic bag with the ice cream. “The quickest way out is down the hall and through the ballroom on the right.”
Priscilla took the pie from Reese’s hands and gave him a knowing look. “Take your time. I know the way out.”
Taylor had mentioned that Priscilla and the previous owners were friends. He should’ve realized she’d been inside the house before today.
Once his other two guests were out of hearing, he turned his full attention on Taylor. “What’s wrong?”
Her sigh could’ve knocked down a tree. “My sister made a surprise visit this morning.”
He couldn’t tell if she needed comfort or someone to vent her frustration out on. He decided to go with comfort, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Were Reese and your mom there?”
Taylor nodded, the muscles in her jaw moving.
That explained the change he saw in Priscilla, too. “How’d it go?” It wasn’t any of his business, but he cared about Taylor and liked her family. He didn’t want to see any of them upset.
She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Let’s talk about it later. I’d rather not think about it right this minute.”
“You got it.”
He held her hand all the way down the hallway, until they entered the kitchen.
“Wow, a little busy in here?” She looked around the room at the additional cabinets he’d installed since she’d seen it last night. “I thought you planned on writing today. What happened?”
Curt put the ice cream in the ancient refrigerator freezer, the only appliance still left in the kitchen. Since they all needed replacing anyway, he’d asked Ed to help him move the old dishwasher and stove out when he’d stopped over to help the previous week. He’d already ordered their replacements, as well as a new refrigerator. Hopefully, in another week he’d be ready for them to be delivered, because he was sick of washing his dishes by hand.
“Tried. Eventually, I gave up and worked in here.” He opened a bottle of hard lemonade and passed it to her before opening one for himself. “What do you think your mom would like to drink? I picked up a red wine for dinner but can open something else now for her.”
Taylor held up her bottle. “One of these is fine. And juice is good for Reese. If you don’t have any, she’ll drink water.”
Curt grabbed another hard lemonade from the refrigerator, as well as a juice box.
“Didn’t see you as a juice box kind of guy.”
He didn’t drink much juice himself, but he remembered drinking apple juice and fruit punch all the time at Reese’s age. “I wanted to keep it a secret but”—definitely the wrong choice of words, considering the guilt pressing down on him already—“picked these up for Reese when I got the steaks.”
She took her time surveying the room. “It’s really looking nice in here. I can’t believe you got so much done today. Maybe this writer’s block you have isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“Tell that to my editor when I don’t get the manuscript to her on time.” He pulled out the macaroni salad he’d bought, along with the shrimp cocktail.
“Does it happen a lot? The writer’s block.”
