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I trail my finger along the edge of the note as something warm and soft spreads across my chest, radiating from the center. I sink my teeth into the corner of my lip and glance at the clock. God, it's only seven-thirty in the morning. No wonder I feel groggy. I'm not usually a huge nap-taker, but I have a feeling today's going to be the exception to the rule.
I push off the counter at the same time the side door opens, an electronic bell tinkling from somewhere by the toaster in the corner. I turn, a smile already stretching wide across my face at the prospect of coffee.
Broad shoulders fill the doorframe, but it's not the St. James I was expecting.
Instead, standing ten feet away is one of the only men I know who could earn serious money with his almost legendary neutral expressions.
And damn does he look good this morning. He looks like he just walked off the set of a magazine shoot. A collection of stoic men with biceps stretching the fabric of their plain cotton tees and glares that sometimes feel like a possessive caress.
He pauses in the doorway, head bent low and to the right. Low murmuring hits my ears a second before I see the familiar dark mop of hair of my favorite kindergartener. Hunter comes from behind Silas, his little face tipped up toward his dad. One arm propped on his hip and the other cradling a saran-wrap-covered plate. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they're in the middle of quite the discussion.
With Hunter, that could mean any number of things. The best chocolate chip cookies—which I learned very quickly that he's obsessed with—or unending questions about dinosaurs. Whatever it's about, it stops the moment Hunter lifts his head and spots me. The wrinkle between his brow smooths out and a wide smile replaces it instantly.
“Eve!” he yells, springing from the door and running toward me.
“Wait, bud,” Silas calls out, his hand outstretched as he takes a big step inside.
“It's alright,” I tell him as Hunter collides with my legs. “Oomph,” I grunt, accepting his weight. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes. My arms curl around his shoulders and I bend over a little to return his embrace. I run my hand over his back a few times. “It's alright, Hunter. I'm fine.”
“Alright, bud, let's give Evangeline some space, yeah?” Silas says, stopping at the island.
Hunter steps back and regards me with the same look I get all too often from his father. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the laugh as I glance from father to son in their matching expressions. It's just this side of concerned, though Silas gives more inconvenienced than anything. I let it roll off of me though.
“You don't look alright though, Eve,” Hunter says. He's not trying to be mean. It's the simple honest commentary of a kid.
I chuckle lightly. “Yeah, I know. It does hurt a little, but I'll be alright.”
Hunter nods a few times, his little mouth twisting to the side like he's deep in thought. “You should have my dad look at it.”
Silas grunts at the same time I say, “Oh, no, that's okay. I got checked out by the doctor last night, remember? I'll be right as rain in a few days.”
“I don't know, Eve. I've had lots and lots of scrapes and bruises and even a really, really bad rug burn once. The only thing that made them all better was my dad's special owie cream.”
“Owie cream?” I glance at Silas, surprise lifting my brows when I see the apples of his cheeks pinken. And shit, it only makes him more attractive.
“Tell her how magical it is, Dad.” His voice is so hopeful, I find myself holding my breath that Silas starts reciting the mythical property of what I'm sure is just Neosporin.
“It's a secret, bud, remember? We can't tell everyone about our magical cream.”
“I know that, Dad,” he says it likeduh. “Only people who see it can use its magic. That's what you told me. So that's why I brought it over. So you can show Eve!” He pulls a tin out of the pocket of his sweatpant joggers and holds it high in the air like a trophy. “See?”
6
EVANGELINE
I glancefrom Hunter's proud grin to Silas's scowl and decide I'd rather get a front-row seat to Silas's mood swings than disappoint this little boy.
“I mean, Iwouldclassify this as an owie,” I say with a slow nod, pointing to the tender skin on my cheek.
Hunter's face falls into a serious expression. “Absolutely. And your forehead looks like it's bleeding, doesn't it, Dad?”
“What?” My hand flies to my forehead reflexively.
“Don't touch that,” Silas practically barks the order.
My hand halts midair immediately. I blink and he's in front of me, like the man himself is magic and not the little tin clutched in Hunter's palm. His fingers wrap around my wrist, and a band of sparks flickers against my pulse, right underneath his skin.
“Okay?”
