Her doe eyes widen.
Shit.
That was your outside voice, you idiot.
“I mean the kids,” I add quickly. “The kids are all enamored with you. I mean, who wouldn’t be, when they’re in the presence of Princess Luna?”
Her gaze lifts to mine, warm and unguarded. And so fucking beautiful.
“We had a terrific day today,” she says softly. “They’re amazing kids. If you need help, I’m here all week. I could stay?—”
“No.”
The word comes out too sharply. Too fast. Like a door slamming in her face.
“No,” she repeats, smaller. And there it is. The hurt, clear and unmistakable in her eyes.
Hell. I might as well have told her she wasn’t welcome.
But she is.
She feels like home.
Shut up. You’re not allowed to want that.
She needs to be somewhere safe. And my kids need to be out of the line of fire.
I say it like a fact, even if it feels like a lie.
She nods, understanding written all over her face. “They’re… incredible.”
“They’re a pack of feral raccoons,” I say. “But they clean up nice.”
Her laugh slips out before she can stop it. Soft and sweet and gone too soon.
Then our eyes meet.
The humor fades as electricity swirls all around us.
She catches her lower lip between her teeth, and whatever restraint I have left frays fast. Way too many inappropriate thoughts crowd in, all of them about a woman sitting on my son’s bed.
For one suspended, reckless second, it feels like we’re standing at the edge of something neither of us is brave enough to face.
Then my gaze catches on the photo of the kids and me at the lake, and reality crashes back in.
Their needs come first. Always. Including Pix.
I blink and find her suitcase by the door. An out. Thank God.
“I think I can fix that.”
She frowns. “What?”
“The lock on your suitcase. It’s busted. I can fix it.”
“Oh.” She shrugs, like I didn’t just take a torch to a bridge. “You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
Ouch.
