“She’s a brave little thing, isn’t she?” Tilly asks.
“She’s too much like her mother. She’s going to be the death of me.”
Tilly laughs, and it’s the most glorious sound in the world. “That’s a little girl’s job.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Killing their fathers?”
“No. Keeping life interesting.”
“I better get inside and check on your father. It was wonderful meeting you, Tilly. Don’t be a stranger.” Ma glances up at me and winks. “Take your time.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking about Tate riding her bike or letting Tilly into my world. “We’ll be up for dessert.”
“You’re more than welcome to join us, Tilly,” Ma offers, taking a page out of my sister’s book. Always nosy and looking for an angle.
“That’s mighty sweet, but I have a batch of cupcakes I just put in the oven. I can’t leave them. I’m testing a new recipe.”
“I’m a good taste tester but an awful cook, dear. If you ever need help or a willing mouth, I’m always around.” Ma releases me and steps backward. “And so is Angelo.”
Tilly blushes and can’t hide her smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Betty, dear. Betty.”
“Thanks, Betty,” Tilly says before my mother steps back into the bar, leaving us alone.
“So.” I tuck my hands into my pockets like I’m sixteen again and totally unsure of what the hell to say to a girl.
“I want to apologize for yesterday.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Apologize? For what?”
“I came on a little strong, and that’s totally not me.”
“I didn’t think you were coming on strong.” I’m being nice, of course. She was coming on strong, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
“Oh, please.” She touches my arm, sending little shock waves up and down my skin. “I was acting like a…”
“You were sweet.” I do nothing to pull away from her touch.
She’s standing so close, and all I can smell is vanilla and everything cake. “I’ve been trying to step outside my comfort zone, and I may have gone a little over the top.” She laughs and does this adorable thing with her head. “Okay, maybe a lot over the top. I don’t want you to think I’m a lunatic or a harlot.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard someone say harlot.” I give her a dopey smile, and my insides warm despite the cold breeze.
“It’s a Southern thing. I grew up in a tiny town in Georgia. You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl.”
“How did you end up here?”
“My husband was stationed at Great Lakes. He was a Navy SEAL and was an instructor for a bit, training new recruits.”
“Oh.”
“When he died, I didn’t know where else to go. My parents passed years ago, and I had no family back in Georgia anymore. I stayed because of my brother-in-law, Roger.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, familiar with the pain she felt. “I know how hard it is to lose your spouse.”
She gives me a pained smile and tightens her grip on my arm. “I heard about your wife. I’m so sorry, Angelo. No one should have to endure the kind of heartache we have.”
I place my hand over hers, allowing myself a moment to grieve and take solace in a stranger. “No, they shouldn’t, Tilly.”
