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He wasn’t asking, but then, this was him taking care of me. Some might get annoyed with his methods, but not me. “Okay.”
A softening around his eyes was his only reply. Yeah, I was getting good at reading Killian Reid.
He pulled open the barn door, hit the lights and two heads popped out of their stalls.
Cisco looked bigger in his stall than he had that day they’d come to my house. And Lady was every bit as beautiful as him. “They’re beautiful.”
Cooper and Max came running in, and watching the dynamic of the dogs with the horses… “They like each other.”
“Yeah. They’re family.”
I wasn’t sure why those words hit me as hard as they did. So simple a concept but one I’d been without for a long time. He was learning me, too, because he moved in, right in front of me, those blue eyes darkening. He didn’t touch me, except for a light brush of his thumb on my cheek. “You’re carpe fucking dieming, yeah?”
At first, I didn’t move because I liked him in my personal space, then his scent filled my nose, and I was hungry, but not for steak. Then his words registered, and I chuckled. Never heard it put that way, but he was right. “Yeah.”
“Maybe tomorrow after we deal with the cameras, I’ll put you on Lady.”
My focus shifted behind him to the beautiful mare. “Really?” I wondered why we didn’t try tonight, but figured it was my dress.
He knew what I was thinking when he said, “After dinner we’re going somewhere.”
My focus snapped back to him. “We are. Where?”
“You’ll see.” He reached for my hand, called his dogs. “But first, we eat.”
Chapter Eighteen
killian
He liked herin his house; she brought a light. They were in the kitchen. Cedar was making the salad. A stray curl brushed against her shoulder. He wanted to taste her there.
“Where did you get these vegetables? Is there a farmer’s market somewhere?”
He didn’t answer until she glanced his way. “Mom’s garden.”
It was because she was looking his way that he saw the sadness again, subtle, but it dimmed those green eyes.
She got back to chopping the vegetables. Her voice was soft when she shared, “My mom had a garden, mostly flowers. She owned a florist in town. We used to work in it together. I always thought I’d have a big garden one day. Flowers and vegetables, fruit bushes and trees. I was going to get a place not far from theirs, and Mom and I could work both gardens.” She stopped chopping. “Hmm, I let myself forget that too.”
“And your dad?”
“He was an insurance broker. He liked it, though, because his neighbors were his clients.” She looked over and smiled. “Do your parents live close?”
“Yeah, on the other side of town.”
“Nice.” She glanced down at the salad. “This is done.”
“You want more wine?”
“Please.”
He topped off her glass. “I’m going to get the steaks.”
“Okay.”
He returned, but she wasn’t in the kitchen. He tented the steaks, took out the potatoes and went in search of her. She was in the hall, looking at the pictures his mom had given him, ones of the three of them through the years.
“How old were you here?” she asked. He was dressed a lot like he was now, but he was young.
