Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)(69)
“Why’s he upset?” Gideon asked. “Why now? It’s been a couple of weeks. Everything is going okay. I thought he and I had fun at the radio station. Was I wrong?”
“No. He liked spending time with you. Maybe that’s the problem.” She felt as if she was stepping through a minefield without a map.
“He’s been through a lot,” she continued. “Losing his mom, the foster care situation, finding you. He had no way of knowing if you’d want anything to do with him. He just showed up. That’s very brave, but also terrifying. What if you’d rejected him? What if you still might?”
“I wouldn’t have thrown him out or anything. His home is with me.” Now he was the one to shift uncomfortably. “I know I’m not the best dad, but I’m working on getting more involved with him.”
“I know, but he doesn’t. Give him a moment. He’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Him crying? That’s a response to socialization. If he were a thirteen-year-old girl, you’d be more understanding. As a society, we don’t like our boys to cry, but they need the emotional release just as much. It’s not unhealthy.”
Gideon’s mouth twisted. “I meant I don’t like you being insightful. You’re already too smart. If you understand people as well as everything scientific or mathematical, how can we ever have a fair fight?”
She smiled, feeling a little proud of herself. “You’ll always be able to best me physically.”
“Like I’d hit a girl.”
* * *
FELICIA PULLED THE brownie pan from the oven. The smell of chocolate drifted throughout the house, which was enjoyable on its own, but what really pleased her was the satisfaction she received from baking. Logically, it made no sense. The creation of a brownie from disparate ingredients was the result of a chemical reaction when heat and time were applied. There was no magic. She’d performed much more complicated experiments in a lab. There, the results had had significance. Still, baking brownies was better, she thought happily, and she couldn’t begin to say why.
She also found pleasure in knowing her way around the large, open kitchen. At first she’d been intimidated by the cupboards and drawers, not knowing what went where or what half the items were for. Gideon had admitted to hiring a decorator to furnish the house. He’d bought the bed in the master and the sofa in the media room and had left everything else to her, with instructions to keep things simple and masculine.
The woman had taken his instructions to heart everywhere except the kitchen. While the plates were simple white squares and the appliances were stainless, the decorator had bought every kitchen gadget ever made. Felicia was still figuring out what some of them were. She was intimidated by the food processor, although the thought of using the dough hooks that had come with the passive mixer was getting more interesting by the day. She could imagine the comforting smell of baking bread on a cold, snowy winter day.
As she put the brownie pan on the cooling rack, she wondered if she would still be living here when it was snowing. She and Gideon hadn’t discussed their future. Per their agreement, they were supposed to date and nothing more. He was teaching her how to be with a man so she could find someone normal to fall in love with. Carter had shown up and challenged all that. Now she wasn’t actually dating, but she was living with a man. She thought maybe that was instruction enough.
But she was less sure about leaving. She liked the big house and the views of the mountains. More, she liked being around Gideon. Even when he was emotionally distant, walking the floors in the hours of darkness, she felt closer to him than she ever had to anyone else. She liked knowing he was nearby.
Since they’d made love again, he slept with her—those few hours when he slept. Knowing he was going to be in the bed with her made her feel safe. Odd, considering she rarely felt unsafe. She supposed it was because he understood her better than most and still seemed to like her. She could be herself and know she wouldn’t be judged. She trusted him.
She heard footsteps and turned to see Carter walking into the great room toward the kitchen. The teen had been quiet all through dinner. Her instinct had been to let him be. He would talk when he was ready. She hoped she was doing the right thing by letting him decide when or even if he wanted to talk.
When it came to him, she was never sure she was doing the right thing. She found herself worrying about him at odd moments, which made no sense. He was obviously capable. But she couldn’t shake the feeling.
He leaned against the counter. His face was pale and his eyes slightly red. She wondered if he’d been crying again. The thought of his emotional pain made her own heart ache.
He pointed at the pan. “The brownies smell good.”
“The scent of chocolate baking diffuses very nicely.”
He flashed her a smile. “There you go again, with the funny talk.”
She sighed. “I’m too literal, but I’m working on it.”
“You shouldn’t change. You’re honest. You’ve been there for me.”
Felicia wasn’t sure where “there” was, but she decided it didn’t matter. “You’ve been through a lot. I respect how you’ve handled a difficult situation. I was on my own when I was your age, and I know it’s tough. You’re here now, and I hope that makes you happy. I want us to be friends.”