“What are you doing?”
“You can’t keep borrowing my uncle's clothes. You’re twice as wide as Adrian, and I'm guessing you didn’t bring any shoes for your physical therapy.”
I scoffed.
Madeline cocked her head knowingly and typed some more into her phone. “You want out of here, that's fine, Mr. Crowe, but you’ll leave in clothes that fit and with limbs that function at 100 percent.”
My eyes narrowed, but she only laughed. This was an unusual kid. “Don’t underestimate us Dougherty girls, Mr. Crowe. We don’t do anything halfway. Do you have anything on your calendar for tomorrow?”
“My calendar?”
“Oh geez, sorry…” She turned to Mr. Brooklyn Bridge. “Hey, Church, does Mr. Crowe have any appointments tomorrow?”
“Why would I know?” The other man didn't bother to look at his phone, just stared at me, eyes stony, a quiet smile on his face.
“Perfect.” Madeline clapped. “Then tomorrow we’ll get you some clothes. We can’t very well have you wandering around town in hand-me-downs.” She leaned in with a wink. “Especially at your age.”
My jaw dropped and I stared at her. I’d always told myself if I got the opportunity to have children, I would’ve loved them, done anything and everything for them. But this girl, she was a whole new league of wild. Ignoring my slack-jawed status, she picked up the book she’d been reading and calmly strolled past me, down the hallway that must lead to her bedroom.
Church didn’t move from the sofa. I cleared my throat, my hand gripping the back of the couch.
“She’s…”
Church shifted forward, slowly raising his bulk up until he stood. While he was only an inch or two larger than me, he was in pristine health. “She’s incredibly loved by everyone in this building. You should know that. She and her mother are very important to a great number of people.”
I stiffened. “They brought me here.”
Church gave me a long look. “I wanted you to know.”
“Message received. Thank you.”
Chapter Four
Penelope
Having Neal around for the past few days had been surprisingly simple. His physical therapist came to the penthouse, and often I’d see Neal wandering around the house talking to him. Max was over less often, but I’d insisted upon meals being prepped for the both of them, and while Max been awkward during the conversation, I knew they were eating them.
But unlike Max, Neal didn’t join us at the table. Which was fine. He was here to heal; I didn’t think he was looking for a new best friend. But tonight, when I got in, I toed out of my heels before padding around the kitchen, surprised when I realized I wasn’t alone.
Neal stood there, a statue in the shadows, his body so much larger now that he was getting healthier. “Neal, I didn’t see you there. How are you feeling?”
“I’m good,” he said stiffly, and immediately I regretted asking him. I was sure he was asked that hundred times a day right now. How predictable. Biting my lip, I moved towards him. “Church is taking Madeline to a school event and—”
“I won’t hurt you, Penelope…” His deep voice filled the kitchen, making something in my belly draw up tight.
I cocked my head at his rushed response. “I didn’t think you would. I was simply going to ask you if you wanted to join me for dinner. The pickings are a little low right now, but I think there's enough leftover chicken Parmesan for two.”
He blinked, those nearly black eyes cautious. “You want to eat with me?”
“That’s what I said.” I offered a smile, taking note of the handsome strong features that I could see even under the rough cut of his beard and too-long hair. My fingers twitched. I’d stroked those curls at one point when he’d been asleep here but restless. It’d been natural, but now, standing here, I was compelled to do it again. To soothe the bright emotions that looked back at me.
After a long, tense moment, his shoulders dropped, and he moved into the room. “I’d like that.”
I shot him a quick smile before getting another plate from the cabinet and setting it on the table. Neal moved past the table to the fridge and opening it. I studied him as he leaned over, large hands reaching into the side and gripping the carefully labeled containers. He was almost as tall as Adrian, but he was built more boldly. Now that he was up, eating well, and healing, thick, powerful-looking shoulders were visible and a broad chest was filling in. That paired with those sharp eyes and careful hands showed that he was a man who was used to knowing what he wanted and how to get it.
I was desperate to know how he ended up on the streets, but that wasn’t my business. At least not right now. And while I was sure I could have the family private investigator have the answer on my desk in less than an hour, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Maybe I didn’t know him well, but I'd spent time with this man, even as he slept. And I’d seen the look in his eye when he came to rescue me.
There was just something about him. My cheeks flushed when I realized that he’d turned back from the refrigerator and was returning my look with one of his own, his dark eyes coasting over my curves and making me feel very much like I was indecently dressed, rather than sitting in my favorite pencil skirt and turtleneck.
