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“Well, my parents loved each other, they said, but they still had knock-down, drag-out fights every so often,” she said. “I learned to hide in the stable until they calmed down.”
He chuckled. “I never had to do that. But my father wasn’t much of a father.”
“Was he a teacher?”
He shook his head. “An astrophysicist,” he said with distaste. “He still works in the aerospace industry. NASA, I think. I haven’t had any contact with him since.”
“I’ll bet he’d be proud of the man you became,” she said, and then flushed, because it was a little forward.
He looked down at her and frowned. “You think so?” he asked, surprising her.
“You’re kind to strangers, you love children, you break horses without harming their spirit, you know about Schrodinger’s cat. . . .”
He chuckled. “You’re good for my ego. You know that?” he teased. “I guess a lot of us are prey to low self-image, especially people of color.”
“You’re a nice color,” she said warmly. “Light olive skin. I’m just pink. I can’t even tan.”
He studied her fair hair, long around her shoulders, and her pretty, pink face. He smiled slowly, a smile that made her toes curl inside her shoes. “You’re a nice color, too,” he said huskily. His fingers went to her hair and touched it softly. “Your hair is naturally this color, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes.” Was that high, squeaky tone her actual voice? She was surprised at the way it sounded. “Well, I do use a highlighting shampoo, but I don’t color it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Her breath was coming like a distance runner’s. Her eyes fell on his mouth. It was chiseled, with a thin upper lip and a full square lower one. It was a mouth that made her hungry for things she barely remembered. Her late husband had been gone so much that intimacy had gone by the wayside, for the most part. At the end, they were more friends than lovers. And she couldn’t remember ever feeling such hunger, even for him. Perhaps it was her age, or that she’d been alone too long. She felt guilty, too, just for entertaining the thought that Parker would be heaven to kiss.
He was staring at her mouth, too. His fingers tightened on her hair. “This would be,” he whispered, “a very bad idea.”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered back, shakily. “A very, very bad idea.”
But even as they spoke, they were bending toward each other. Her head tilted naturally to the side, inviting his mouth closer.
“I might become addicted,” he whispered a little unsteadily.
“Me, too . . .”
He leaned closer, his big hand clutching her hair, positioning her face. His head bent. She could almost taste the coffee on his mouth. She was hungry. So hungry!
“Katy,” he breathed, and his lips started to touch hers.
“Mom? Parker? Where are you guys?”
They broke apart, both flushed and uneasy. Parker got to his feet and moved away from Katy without looking at her.
“We’re out here, sprout!” he called. “Ready to go?”
Teddie came barreling out the front door, dressed to ride. “Yes! I’m so excited!”
“We’ll take it slow and easy the first time,” he told her, grinning, although he was churning inside about what had almost happened. He managed to get himself together in the small space of time he had while Teddie rushed toward the stable.
He turned and looked at Katy, who was standing up, looking all at sea and guilty.
He went back to her, towering over her. “It’s okay,” he said softly.
She swallowed. “I’m . . . I mean . . . I think . . .” She looked up at him with her face taut with indecision, hunger, fear, guilt.
He touched her cheek gently. “We’ll take it slow and easy, Katy,” he said huskily. “No pressure. Okay?”
She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she agreed, and her eyes grew soft.
