The way she’d looked at him last night after he leaned in and pressed that kiss to her forehead…
He hefted the tray and headed out of the dining hall, boots thudding on the wood floors and then the short span of gravel leading to the ranch house.
The morning was crisp and birds trilled from fence posts. In the distance, a couple of horses grazed lazily, tails flicking.
He entered through the security office, using the lock code Carson provided him the day before, and headed to the library where Felicity slept. Halfway down the hall, he slowed.
Shit. A new thought occurred to him. Felicity probably missed breakfast in the dining hall because she ate with the Malone women.
He pictured her laughing with the ladies over some family joke while he walked over here like a fool with enough food to feed an entire SEAL team.
His steps faltered and he stopped altogether, balancing the tray as the coffee sloshed. He stared toward the library, wrestling with himself.
If she already ate, you’ll look like an idiot.
He should turn around. Drop the tray back off and let the kitchen sort it out. The food wouldn’t go to waste—someone would eat it. There was always another stomach willing to take a second helping.
So why couldn’t he make himself move?
Because he knew how it felt to be alone, like he carried too much and nobody noticed until the walls caved in.
He might not be able to magically restore her shop to its original state, but he could make sure she didn’t face those damn boxes on an empty stomach.
This was what he could do. Breakfast. A tray of too many options because he didn’t know if she preferred biscuits or hashbrowns or fruit, but he wanted her to have the choice.
The same guy who made split-second decisions under fire was standing here frozen about whether or not to deliver a meal.
He blew out a breath. “Quit being a damn coward,” he muttered.
He wasn’t really overstepping by bringing food. If she already ate, she’d tell him. If she hadn’t, well…
He continued along the hallway, pushing through the uncertainty the way he pushed through the burn of exhaustion during a workout.
The library sat a little apart from the main house, which helped because he didn’t feel like he was intruding on the Malones’ private lives. When he reached the closed door, he shifted the tray to balance on one palm so he could knock.
He rapped twice. For a moment, there was no response. Then came a faint voice. “Come in.”
The sweet rasp stroked across his senses the same way it had last night when she’d told him goodnight. He swallowed and opened the door carefully, bracing the tray.
Felicity was already up and dressed in a soft-looking sweater that conformed to her curves and a pair of trousers with a small, checked pattern that made him think of hunts in the English countryside. The outfit suited her librarian vibe, down to the way her hair waved over one shoulder when she turned to face him.
His gut clutched. The thick locks made his fingers ache to sink into it.
While plundering her full lips with his own.
Her gaze settled on his for a long beat, then dipped to the tray in his hands. Surprise flickered across her face.
“Brought you breakfast.” His voice came out gritty. “Thought we could go through the boxes after you eat.”
“That was so thoughtful, Gabe.” Her focus darted to the boxes. “I bought them in an online auction months ago.”
“Do you have any idea what’s inside?”
She shrugged. “They were sold in lots—special editions mixed in with other collectible books.” As if she suddenlyrealized he was still holding the tray, she rushed to pull a fat footstool forward. “Set it here please.”
She stood back while he settled the tray. When he straightened, she was shaking her head. “Wow.”
He chuckled and dragged his ball cap off his head to cut his fingers through his hair. “I might have gotten carried away at the buffet.”
