Be cool. Just be cool.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Good shower?”
“Yes.” She moved to sit at the other end of the sofa,closest to the fireplace. “Sorry I took so long. Thanks for watching her,” she said, gesturing for the baby.
“Sure thing. Are you hungry?”
“I may have been daydreaming about bagels and lox in the shower.”
Standing, he moved to her and passed her the sleeping infant. “You sure you’re from Phoenix?”
Eva took Abby in her arms, the anxiety that had settled between her shoulder blades when she’d seen Gavin holding the girl dissipating in an instant. She wasn’t used to other people holding the baby. “I’ve fully embraced New York City culture.”
He headed toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “No bagels, but I’ve got some eggs and rye toast.”
“Eggs would be great.”
He turned around. “No toast?”
She eyed him with mock horror. “Hell yes, toast.”
He grinned a dashing grin that had no doubt made scores of women swoon. “That’s my girl.”
Her stomach fluttered at the endearment.
His eyes locked with hers. “I mean… just… sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Disappointment stabbed her belly, abruptly putting an end to the ridiculous butterflies. She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I know what you meant.”
Turning, he walked toward the kitchen.
Eva’s shoulders fell, her posture sagging as she noticed the way his ass filled out the well-worn jeans on his retreating form. Damn, this was hard. Just being around him set her nerves on edge. How was she going to manage being near him for the foreseeable future?
Screw that. How are you going to handle him being in Abby’s life forever?
Panic reared to life and clawed up her spine in a rush. She’d seen the contented look on his face while he held the sleeping baby. He may have been shitting bricks back at the HERO Force office, but he’d clearly grown more comfortable with the idea of being a father over the last several hours.
It should have made her happy, but she didn’t know where she stood or what the rules were in their new relationship. She needed an end in sight, a finish line of sorts on which to focus her attention. “How long do you think I’ll need to stay here?” she called out.
The clang of pots and pans rang out. “Come into the kitchen. It’s hard to hear you.”
“Great,” she mumbled under her breath. “Now I get to watch him cook.”
He moved around that gorgeous little kitchen with a quiet efficiency that said he was more than comfortable making a meal. Because of course he was. He was the father of her child and as untouchable as a pop icon. It only made sense he’d be a goddamnrenaissance man. He was probably into woodworking and volunteered with underprivileged kids, too. She narrowed her eyes, asking in a suspicious tone, “Do you speak any languages?”
He shrugged. “A little Spanish.Dos cervesas, por favor.That kind of thing.” He shot her a look. “You asked how long you need to stay.”
“Yes.”
“Until we’re sure you and Abby are safe.”
She went quiet at that, wondering how long it would be before no one wanted to hurt her. Wouldn’t she always hold the key to identifying that police detective’s killer? She was a witness. She had photographic evidence and had seen themurderer’s face on the enlarged print. The damage couldn’t be undone.
The smell of browning butter made her desperate to eat, the sounds of him cooking filling the air as she contemplated her fate. From the safety of Gavin’s kitchen, her life looked completely hopeless.
She worked to pull her thoughts back from the edge of emotional devastation. She didn’t want to get upset again, and she’d rather stick a shank into her own kidney than cry again. But she’d no sooner thought it than he turned around to grab a towel from the island at which she sat, his stare colliding with hers for an instant before he whipped back toward the stove.
He froze and turned slowly back around. “Are you okay?”
