Anything for Her(44)

“Wow.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips and gazed at him in a sort of astonishment. “That was...way more than I expected, when I thought about the way your face closed whenever the subject of your parents came up.”

He laughed and reached for the torn naan bread again. “It’s not something I usually talk about, I admit.”

“Do you...ever go home at all? For holidays, or...?”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Yeah, I do. My childhood wasn’t bad, you see. I believe my parents both love me. I’m still undecided how I feel about them. It’s always good to see Anna and Jed. Jed’s married now, and has a two-year-old girl. Cute little thing.” He found himself smiling. “I was thinking this Christmas I’d take Sean home to show him off. Though he’s not as cute as little Lidia.”

“I don’t know. If you’re a teenage girl, you might think differently. When he’s not sulking, anyway.” She thought that over. “No, that’s not true. Sulky is sexy, when you’re a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl.”

“God,” he said fervently.

She laughed at him. “He can’t possibly be any sulkier than you were at that age, from what you say.”

“No.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “The first time I set eyes on him, I recognized all that angst. I suppose you could say I saw myself.”

He’d told her the story of his first encounters with Sean and his inexplicable offer to help if the boy ever needed him. What he hadn’t told her then was why he’d identified with Sean as he had.

Allie’s smile was tremulous. “You’re a good man, Nolan.”

He should be glad to accept any admiration from her, but if there was one thing they had to have, it was honesty. “Taking in Sean may be the first good thing I’ve ever done for anyone,” he said roughly. “I told you. I’ve always been a loner.”

“I know what alone feels like.” Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her.

“Yeah.” He scraped his chair back and stood, holding out a hand. “We don’t have to be alone.”

“No.” She abandoned what was left of her meal as gladly as he had. She felt so damn right in his arms. “Not with you.”

He banded her with his arms, kissed her and echoed her words.

With her...not alone.





CHAPTER EIGHT



NOLAN HAD A hell of a time getting anything done in the short time he had that afternoon before the squeal of the school bus brakes announced Sean’s return. Sean appeared in the workshop doorway to say, “I’m home,” then left to play with Cassie.

Nolan stared after Sean. How long had it been since he’d offered to help or expressed any interest in what Nolan was making? A while, Nolan realized, which he guessed was answer to any question of the boy’s original motives. As Nolan ran a polisher over an already smooth slab of Italian granite, creamy Nuovo Brocatello with beautiful gold and pinkish veins, he pondered why Sean had quit feeling the need to help.

Was he beginning to feel secure here? Huh. Maybe. Interesting, considering he’d also made such a shit of himself in an effort to compete with Allie. Maybe that, too, was a sign of his growing belief that Nolan wouldn’t dump him.

Testing the stone that was to be a kitchen backsplash, Nolan shook his head in something like amusement. He guessed not all touching parental moments were suitable for greeting cards.

One good thing: Cassie might be Nolan’s devoted slave all day, but the moment Sean walked in the door she made plain she was his dog. Probably afraid he’d disappear, she hardly took her soft brown eyes off him. If he went into the bathroom, she waited in the hall with her stare fixed on the door. After dinner the pair often disappeared into Sean’s room.

Nolan had a suspicion that, despite the two new super-duper, expensive dog beds he’d purchased, one of which was downstairs, one in Sean’s bedroom, Cassie actually slept stretched out beside Sean on his bed. That upstairs dog bed, he’d noticed earlier today in passing, looked remarkably pristine.

Tonight, alone downstairs, he couldn’t think of any excuse to call Allie, considering the several hours they’d spent together today. He wished he was sure enough of her that he didn’t have to think of one.

He had some bookwork he ought to be doing—his least favorite part of owning his own business—but he couldn’t seem to settle into it. He didn’t like knowing that what he felt was lonely. Loners didn’t get lonely.