As her laughter fades, she asks, “Are you coming home tomorrow?”
“Not yet, but soon. I still have a lot of cleaning to do. Would you like to come help?” I tease.
“No way!” Her eyes bug out. “I hate cleaning!”
I knew that’d be her answer. I wish more than anything I could bring her with me, but I’m afraid. I’ve spent years looking over my shoulder, wondering if my dad will pop out of the bushes. Bringing her here is a risk I’m not willing to take.
“Did Aunt Jess make you pancakes this morning?”
“Yeah, but she knocked over the bowl, and it got the floor all gooey.”
“Oh no! Were they as good as my French toast?” I wiggle my brows.
She smiles big and furiously shakes her head.
“I’ll make some when I get home, and maybe we can show Aunt Jess how we do it, so she can make it while I’m gone.”
“Promise?”
“Pinky promise.” I hold my finger up to the phone, and she giggles again.
“Time for bed,” Jess says from somewhere out of sight.
“I love you, bug.”
“I love you, too, Mommy. Good night.”
After she hangs up, I’m settling back into the couch with my snack when the doorbell rings. I drop the bag ofpopcorn onto the coffee table and dart to the front door with my wine still in my hand.
“Shit, Shane, I still have your key, don’t I?”
I undo the deadbolt and fling open the door.
The air whooshes out of my lungs, and I freeze. Everything fades but the pair of blue eyes staring back at me. My heart thunders in my chest. Ghosts don’t often ring the doorbell, so the fact that one is standing on my porch has me feeling like I’m on another planet.
I don’t even register my glass of wine falling from my hand until the crimson liquid splashes my bare feet. Opening my mouth to say something, no words come out.
“That your car?” The corner of Gabe’s mouth lifts as he nods to my Honda sitting in front of the house and leans a shoulder on the doorframe.
My mouth opens and closes. Thoughts rapid fire through my brain, and my knees threaten to buckle.
“How did you know I was here?” I finally manage to ask, my chest rising and falling faster with each breath.
“Your keys.” Holding them up, he narrows his eyes at me and smirks. “Did you really think you could have your car in my shop, and I wouldn’t know?”
God, he’s a smug son of a bitch.
Damn it, he looks good. He’s always been attractive, but he’s devastating now. His blond hair falls right above his shoulders, and he’s put a few pounds of muscle on his lean, six-foot- frame. He’s wearing dirty light-wash jeans with a dark gray hoodie. If I had to guess, I’d bet money he’s got a handgun tucked in the back of his waistband.
His hand runs across his short facial hair.
“I wasn’t thinking about you at all, actually.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, “So, what do you want?”
I’m suddenly very aware of how little I’m wearing—apair of tiny blue pajama shorts and a matching tank top that’s almost too small, leaving everything spilling out of the top.Heat creeps up my neck.
“Just wanted to see for myself.” His eyes rake over me, setting my skin on fire. He leans down, picking up the wine glass that—thank God—landed on the doormat and is still in one piece.
“See what?”
