“Something is,” he persisted.
“I’m going to go wash my hands,” she said curtly, sliding out of the booth and walking through the pub to the restroom.
“I’ll go with her,” Cat said, rising.
“No.She’s almost thirteen,” Rhys answered, his hand on her arm.“This is a family place.She’ll be fine.”
Cat slowly sat, aware of the warmth of his hand, and the closeness of his chair to hers.A week ago, he wouldn’t have sat this close to her.A week ago, Cat had just arrived from London, and the family dynamics had been overwhelming.Things had improved so much since then.Jillian had finally thawed, warming up to Cat, but Cat wondered if their fragile truce was maybe at an end.
“I think she’s upset that you’re sitting next to me,” Cat said quietly, not wanting Olivia to hear.“It might be better if I go sit with Olivia and Jillian can sit with you.”
“I sat next to Charlotte plenty of times and Jilly never minded.”
Cat searched his eyes, looking for truth, because he was saying one thing, but she felt another.She felt him as if he were connected to her.She felt his energy and his masculinity, and it was dizzying and wonderful, but did that mean the girls could feel it too?
Could Jillian?
When Jillian returned, she was polite through dinner, but no longer as open and excited as she had been when they toured the castle, oohing and aahing with the rest of them as the lights came on.
Cat tried to focus on Jillian, and give her special attention, but Jillian, while never outright rude, shut down Cat’s attempts to draw her out.At one point Rhys caught Cat’s eye and mouthed,It’s okay.She’s okay.
But some of the joy in the evening was gone for Cat.She couldn’t help feeling as if she’d failed Jillian.She was here for the girls, after all.Their feelings and needs came first.
But it was hard not to be drawn to Rhys, and impossible not to feel his intensely physical energy.He was a man, and a disturbingly handsome man, with a brain and a body and a voice that always melted her a little bit when he spoke to her.
But Cat wasn’t kidding herself.What she felt for Rhys was exactly what Jillian didn’t want Cat to feel.
Fortunately, charming Olivia carried the evening.She’d loved the castle ruins, and the lights, and the restaurant in the very old hotel.“Mum likes those fancier places,” she said, “but I think this is perfect.”
Cat couldn’t help smiling as perfect seemed to be Olivia’s favorite word.
After dinner, they bundled up and headed outside, Christmas lights twinkling down the length of the high street, Peveril Castle still glowing above them.Cat glanced up at the castle once more and thought it wasn’t just new memories Rhys was giving his girls.He was giving them to Cat too.Memories Cat would cherish long after she returned home.
But just thinking about going home made her heart ache.Way more than it should.
*
Sounds drifted upfrom downstairs—a clatter of dishes, cheerful voices, the scrape of chairs—and a smell so heavenly her stomach almost growled.Bacon.And sausages.Rich, savory, unmistakably British, filling the whole cottage with warmth.
Climbing from bed, Cat pulled on her big red cardigan, ran a hand through her hair scraping it into a messy ponytail, and followed the scent of food down the steep narrow staircase.
The closer she got to the kitchen, the clearer the voices became.Jillian sounded as if she was in fine form, telling stories, making her sister giggle and her father laugh, a low rumble of amusement that warmed the kitchen as much as the breakfast cooking on the stove.They all seemed to be in good moods this morning.No tension, no bickering, just a happy family enjoying each other.
Something warm unfurled in Cat’s chest.This was what family should sound like.This was what she’d missed as an only child growing up at her grandmother’s.
At the threshold of the kitchen, Cat paused for half a heartbeat, watching them unnoticed.Rhys stood at the stove in shirtsleeves, spatula in hand, one hip braced against the counter.Jillian sat cross-legged on her chair at the table, her long fair hair a tangle, waving a piece of toast for emphasis as she told some dramatic tale.Olivia was at the table, knees pulled up to her chest, grinning, delighted by her sister’s story.
It looked like something out of a storybook, the good kind that ended with a happy-ever-after.
Then Olivia spotted her.“Cat!”
Three faces turned toward her, but it was Rhys’s reaction that caught her breath—how the chatter dimmed just a little, how the girls stilled, but Rhys… he smiled.Not polite.Not distracted.But a smile that warmed slowly as if sunlight breaking through heavy winter clouds.Finally, the smile reached his eyes and for a split second it felt as if he’d been waiting to see her.Absurd, so absurd.Even more absurd was that her heart flipped.
Imagine if he was mine, she thought helplessly.Imagine a life where this—this kitchen, this man—were part of my every morning.Not someonelikeRhys.Him.
Rhys cleared his throat softly, though he was still smiling.“Good morning.We were just wondering if the bacon would lure you down.”
“It worked,” she said, her voice a little lighter, a little higher than she intended.
