Built (Saints of Denver #1)(53)
He nodded so vigorously I thought he was going to topple out of his chair. “I wished for someone to come take care of me when my mom went away and you showed up with Zeb.” He looked down at the collection of Legos and then back up at me. I was blinking to combat the tears I felt burning at the back of my eyes. “You granted my wish.”
I gulped, hard, and reached out across the table so I could touch his cheek. His skin was so soft, so delicate. I admired this little boy who’d suffered so much and still had a heart of gold. Again I thought how brave it was for people who’d been hurt, who had been kicked around by life and the people in it, to allow themselves to feel all those things and to still have hope.
“I’m glad I got to grant your wish for you, Hyde. You deserve to have lots and lots of people in your life taking care of you.”
The somber moment was broken by another one of the foster kids running in buck naked and screaming at the top of his lungs. I knew it was a simple cry for attention, something all kids needed, so I invited the rest of the kids in the house to play Legos with us, and by the time I left, an entire city was taking shape on the kitchen table.
Hyde was happy. He was well adjusted, and he obviously loved Zeb. I told myself I could leave it all alone, there were no more questions to be asked, and that my part in their budding relationship was done.
It wasn’t that easy. It never was.
The entire way home I fought back tears because while my job was everything, while I now had a family I could lean on and things outside my office that required me to be present and available, it suddenly didn’t seem like it would be enough. Kids were never something I thought would be for me. When my father was alive I knew having one wasn’t an option. I could never subject a defenseless child to what I had endured, and frankly none of the men I dated ever inspired the urge for home and hearth in me. Not even the one I was supposed to marry. Now my father was gone, my life was my own, and there was a man . . . a man who was all man and so much more . . . who inspired everything inside of me.
It made me want. It made me feel. It made me nervous and it made me very, very afraid.
I was exhausted when I finally pushed open the front door of my house, so it took me a minute to realize something was off. I tossed my laptop case on the couch and scraped my fingernails over my scalp as I pulled my hair loose from where it was tied up. I was too tired even to change my shoes, so I stepped out of my heels and stripped off my blazer, carelessly tossing it on top of where my computer case had landed. A pair of stretchy pants and a giant glass of wine were calling my name even if nothing had really worked to relax me since walking away and leaving Zeb staring after me in the parking lot a couple days ago. The stunned look on his face and the way it bled into anger haunted me, but I kept telling myself it was for the best. He deserved more than a woman with an irreparable heart.
I was halfway up the stairs and had one arm out of my mint-green blouse when my nose twitched and I realized a delicious aroma was coming from my kitchen. Considering neither Poppy nor I could cook much beyond scrambled eggs and bacon, it brought me to a stumbling halt.
“Poppy?” I called my housemate’s name questioningly, pulled my other arm free of my shirt, and draped it absently over the stair railing. I didn’t typically run around the house half dressed, but I was tired and whatever was cooking in my kitchen smelled heavenly. In fact, my belly rumbled loud enough that I could hear it, which would have been mortifying if anyone else had been around.
When Poppy didn’t answer me I padded toward the kitchen to investigate. I called her name again and I felt a tingle of concern at the back of my neck when there still wasn’t a reply. I was contemplating pulling my houndstooth-check skirt off and leaving it in the middle of the living room as I rounded the corner and stuck my head into the brightly painted kitchen. The sight that greeted me had me snapping up straight and automatically moving to cover myself up, even though the massive man standing at my stove had seen everything the lacy bra was covering up and then some.
Zeb had on a blue-and-red plaid shirt, jeans that were so faded they were white and frayed at the seams, and a smirk that made my legs quiver and the place between them clench in an involuntary reaction.
“Nice outfit. I bet that led to a good day in court.” His emerald gaze drifted over my barely covered chest, which was rapidly turning red, and his smile grew more predatory as he watched me try to make sense of what was happening.
“Where’s Poppy? What are you doing here?”
He turned back to the stove, so that I was staring at his broad back in surprised shock. He looked good standing in my house, at my stove. He looked like he belonged there, like he had created this space for himself, and it made my heart kick and my body tighten in longing.
“Poppy is staying the night with Salem and Rowdy as a favor to me. I called her and asked her if I could come over and cook you dinner. I told her she was invited, but when I showed up she had a bag packed and Rowdy was already here to pick her up. She’s a smart girl and very sweet and Rowdy knows exactly what I had in mind. I consider the fact he didn’t punch me in the face as him giving me his seal of approval to date his sister.”
I let my arms fall to my sides since he was no longer facing me and shifted awkwardly on my bare feet. “Why are you cooking me dinner, Zeb? I thought we agreed that we were going to keep things strictly professional from here on out. You in my kitchen has nothing to do with your case.”