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“Do we have eggs? And bacon?”
“We do.”
“Then we’re good to go. I’m going to handle a few work things, so text me when you want to get started.”
“I thought you were on vacation.”
“I am.” His grimace was sheepish. “But my life next week will be easier if I don’t get too far behind.”
Cate went to her room and changed into running clothes. She felt guilty about abandoning Harry, but it couldn’t be helped. By the time she did her usual route, came home, showered, and changed into yoga pants and a soft cotton sweater in baby blue, he was still holed up in his room.
At five thirty, with her stomach growling, she picked up her phone and sent a simple text.Ready when you are.
As soon as she hit the button, she winced. Should have been more specific. Her subconscious was causing mischief. Ready for dinner. Not sex. That was still in thewe’ll seecolumn.
When Harry came downstairs ten minutes later, she saw that he had showered as well. He stopped in the kitchen doorway, smiling, his gaze warm and intimate. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” The compliment rattled her. The polite response might be to mention how good he looked in old, faded jeans and a navy Henley. But better to say nothing. The man had to know he was gorgeous. Women likely had been throwing themselves at him for years.
Preparing a meal together in the relatively small kitchen should have been awkward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t. When Harry reached in the fridge for a carton of eggs, Cate caught her breath. “Where are your crutches?” she asked, only then noticing that he wasn’t using them.
Harry straightened slowly and turned. “I’m being careful.” He propped his bare foot on a kitchen chair and pulled up his pant leg. “See. The swelling has gone down.”
“Maybe so, but that bruise is still nasty.”
“Before I go to the doctor tomorrow, I want to see how much weight I can put on the leg.”
“Isn’t that for a professional to decide? What if you make it worse?”
“I’m fine, Cate. Honestly. You don’t have to worry.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t. But I do anyway.”
He blinked, as if her response had startled him. “I’m not used to having anybody look after me.”
She sighed, recognizing his discomfort with the topic. “I know you’re a big, strong, I-can-do-it-myself kind of guy, but you’ve done a lot for me. I feel like it’s my turn.”
“No,” he said. “It’s not.” His expression shuttered. The pleasant atmosphere in the kitchen turned cold. “I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary for you. Having you in my apartment was not an inconvenience. Don’t assign noble motives to me, Cate. I’m bound to disappoint you.”
His sharp rebuke came out of nowhere. Cate was stunned and embarrassed. Because she didn’t know what to say or how to proceed, she busied herself mixing waffle batter while Harry handled the bacon and eggs.
At the last minute, she warmed syrup in a small pan and added a bowl of fresh raspberries to the table.
The first part of the meal unfolded in silence.
Finally, Cate was exasperated. It was feast or famine with Harry. Either the two of them were fartoocozy, or else he retreated behind a wall of indifference. She finished her iced tea and got up for more.
With her back to the table, she addressed him. “How often do you see your father?” It was a question she had wanted to ask before now but hadn’t found the courage.
As she sat back down, Harry scowled. “Never. Not since the day they took him away.”
Cate was shocked. “And does your mother have contact?”
“We don’t talk about it, but I think she visits him a few times a year, maybe more. I’m not sure why.”
“Sometimes love can’t be turned off like a switch. Maybe she understands how broken he is, but she can’t let him go completely.”
“Or maybe she’s hedging her bets about the money.”
