Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(37)

Jayne hugged her arms, the warmth and security she’d felt at seeing him a few minutes earlier abandoning her. Maybe she was just being overly sensitive. He hadn’t mentioned Scott’s mother once. Maybe a bad divorce had thrown him off women.

“Come on, Jayne.” Scott handed the gas can to his dad. “I could use breakfast too.”

Jayne followed Scott. The prospects of food and a shower lightened her step. On the porch, she glanced over her shoulder. Reed was still standing in the same place, staring at the red fuel can in his hand as if he didn’t know what it was.

It was a good thing her stay with the Kimballs would be short. Reed had saved her, but he obviously couldn’t deal with her presence. Something traumatic in his past had left its mark, stunted his ability to connect with other people.

Reed was far more adept at hiding his feelings, but the man clearly had plenty of his own scars. Just because his were on the inside didn’t make him any less damaged.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Reed parked the fueled snowblower on the porch and faced the house. Through the window, he watched Jayne move around the kitchen. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, the mass of curly hair hanging down her back. Scott’s sweats hung low on her hips. She handled the kitchen equipment deftly, with an efficiency that suggested she was no stranger to household chores.

Jayne was definitely not a hothouse orchid. If she were a flower, she’d be a tiger lily, tall, resilient, and bright. The fact that he’d almost said those words made his palms clammy under his insulated work gloves.

She’d been abducted and held prisoner, and still had the ability to smile, to give. She’d been about to comfort him for Christ’s sake. Had he ever met anyone so strong? So kind? So generous?

No. No. And no.

But along with jolting his sleeping soul back to life, Jayne had stirred up his carefully orchestrated life, a life in which he didn’t dare allow anyone to get close. Men with secrets couldn’t afford scrutiny or complete honesty. Tough to have a relationship without those and the trust that went along with them. So far, he hadn’t been tempted to try, but Jayne was different. He’d been alone for years, but he’d never felt lonely until she showed up. Honest, courageous, valiant. All the things he wasn’t.

He’d contemplated backing out of his promise to Hugh just a few hours ago.

What would she do if she knew everything? Would she feel as safe with him? Or would she sleep behind a locked door with one eye open? She deserved better, someone without all his baggage. Face it, he had a wagon full, far too heavy a load for a twiceassaulted woman to share.

He stepped into the mudroom and shook the flakes from his parka before hanging it to dry. His gloves had their own pegs. Boots went on the rubber tray. Reed turned toward the kitchen and hesitated at the threshold.

A redheaded tornado had blown through his kitchen. Food containers littered the counters. Frying pans sizzled on the stove. Jayne held a bowl in one Band-Aid-tipped hand and a whisk in the other. Her hair was a warm copper against a backdrop of sleek gray and black, a shock of color in his monochromatic kitchen. She gestured to Scott, who lounged at the center island. A yellow glob flew off the whisk and landed on the formerly pristine ebony granite. Through the doorway beyond, the bare Christmas tree stood crookedly in its stand. Boxes of decorations littered the floor.

“Oh, hi.” Jayne whirled as he padded into the room in damp socks. “I started breakfast. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Um. No. That’s fine.”

Scott beamed. “Jayne’s gonna help with the tree, too.”

A tiny kernel of resentment lodged in Reed’s chest. The tree was the one Christmas tradition he shared with his son. Father-son bonding experiences were few and far between these days. Next year, Scott would be leaving for college.

“It’s the least I can do.” Jayne slipped a piece of bread from a plate, dunked it into the beaten eggs, and slid it into a sizzling pan. She stopped to turn the bacon frying on the next burner before repeating the process with three more slices.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Reed said.

“It’s OK. I’d rather keep busy.” She shot him a brittle smile. Ridiculously, Reed was relieved that her sunny disposition was a brave front. The woman had been through hell. He felt like a total shit for resenting her participation in their Christmas ritual, even if it had only been for a split second. Jayne needed activity to keep her imagination off her abductor and where he might be right now, not to mention the horrors she’d already suffered. “Scott wanted French toast.”

“Did he?” Reed pulled a paper towel off the roll and wiped the dots of egg off the floor.

His son grinned and rested his chin on his fists. “Dad doesn’t cook much.”

“I saw the pile of Hungry-Mans in the freezer.” Jayne traded the whisk for a spatula and slid food onto plates with the competence of a short-order cook. More bacon and French toast went on the stove. Grease splattered. “That’s a shame. You have restaurant-quality appliances here.”

“That’s what the realtor said.” Reed took the stool seat next to his son and watched Jayne’s nervous bustle. He liked the kitchen clean and free of clutter, like his workshop—and his life.

“We eat a lot of sandwiches,” Scott said.