“Perfect.” Caleb nodded toward the house. “Listen, you should come for dinner tonight.”
Wes stilled. His first instinct was to say no. Not because of the job.
Because of Rowan.
He didn’t know if his being would help or make things worse. He didn’t want her to feel awkward in her family’s house.
“I don’t want to intrude,” Wes finally said.
Caleb gave him a knowing look. “You won’t. You’re here. And if you’re working with us, it makes sense.”
Wes glanced at the house. At the window he’d seen Rowan standing at earlier. “I’m not sure she’d agree.”
Caleb’s expression shifted, understanding clear. “Rowan will be fine.”
A meal together sounded simple. But was it?
He wasn’t so sure—especially considering how things had ended between them.
“I’ll be there,” he finally said. “It would be nice to see everyone again. Who doesn’t enjoy some time with the King family? Your house growing up was always where everyone wanted to hang out.”
Caleb grinned. “That’s partially because my mom was always feeding everyone.”
“Yes, she was. I still remember how good her dinners were.”
“So you’ll be here? Perfect.”
As Wes headed for his truck, his gaze drifted toward the woods.
Something about the space begged for his attention. But what?
He didn’t see anything in the shadows there.
But it almost felt too still. Too quiet.
It almost felt as if someone had been there not long ago.
CHAPTER 4
Rowan stoodat the window longer than she intended, her fingers resting against the frame as she watched Wes’s truck pull down the drive.
Relief filled her, the feeling a surprise.
She hadn’t expected to feel the tension fade from her—not after everything that had happened on the road. But seeing Wes again had stirred up too much at once. Too many memories. Too many questions she didn’t have the energy to answer.
Space felt easier, safer.
Rowan pushed away from the window and headed for the door. If she stayed up here any longer, she’d start thinking too much, and that was the last thing she needed right now.
Voices drifted up from downstairs, low and familiar. The sound anchored her as she made her way down the hall and toward the stairs.
When she reached the bottom, Naomi stood near the couch, gently rocking a small bundle in her arms.
Rowan’s attention shifted instantly. “Is that?—?”
Naomi turned, a smile breaking across her face. “Grace. She just woke up.”
Rowan crossed the room and leaned in, taking in the child’s tiny features. Four months old and already completely captivating.
