Our eyes lock, and I swear I feel a heated exchange of energy. The darkening of Joel’s eyes from hazel to more green could have something to do with it.
Or it may be the way my heart rate quickens.
Better yet, it might have to do with the way he captures and holds my attention, refusing to let it go. Even when his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips, causing his eyes to darken even further, he holds my riveted attention.
“Would you look at the time?”
Meghan’s words startle me out of my trance. She slides two plates across the kitchen island, one in front of me and the other in front of Joel.
“I hope you like ham and cheese, Mr. Townsend,” Meghan says. “And strawberries.” She gestures to the cut-up slices of fruit beside the salad.
“Oh, almost forgot.” She turns toward the cabinet and grabs the tin of coconut macaroons. She plates a few macaroons before putting the plate on the table just out of reach.
“These are for after lunch,” she says, looking at me.
“Excuse you?”
“Dessert after food.” She smiles brightly. “That’s what you always told us.”
“Little girl, I am?—”
“I have to run to the store and then across town,” Meghan says, exiting the kitchen. “Mr. Townsend, as always it was great to see you. Enjoy your lunch. Bye!”
I huff as I watch her leave without a backwards glance. A second later, the front door shuts, leaving Joel and me alone.
“You raise them, and then they grow up and act like you’re the child.”
A deep rumble emanates from him. It takes me a moment to realize he’s actually laughing.
“Tell me ’bout it.” He makes a sound at the back of his throat. “My oldest had the damn nerve to tell me I need to go to the doctor more. The boy made the appointment and everything. Then called the doctor to verify that I showed up.”
“No way.” I shake my head.
“Sure did.” He nods. “Like I wasn’t the one carting his ass around when he was in all of those damn sports as a kid.”
“Don’t even get me started. Meghan was in one sport or another year-round. Then once she got to high school, she joined the debate team and became involved in state and national level debate competitions.”
“Good preparation for law school, I imagine,” he says before taking a bite of his sandwich.
I forget my response because I become consumed with watching his jawline with his very present five o’clock shadow as he chews.
It’s not until he turns my way, that I force myself to look away.
“Aren’t you hungry?” He dips his head toward my plate.
My eyes roam to the coconut macaroons.
“Those are for after lunch.”
I ball my fist on my uninjured hip. “Are you trying to bully me along with my daughter?”
The half smile he gives me nearly stops my heart. Joel Townsend is one handsome man.
It’s not like I hadn’t noticed it before. But being this close, his overwhelming presence taking up space right next to me, magnifies his handsomeness in a way I wasn’t ready for.
“Depends,” he answers in a slow drawl. “Is it working?” He eyes my sandwich. “Eat.”
I reach for half of my sandwich. “I’m only eating becauseIwant to. And I’m hungry.”
