LITMIR.BIZ

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She wasn’t sure who to pity more, Lili or Patrick.

      Looking away, April felt the house’s warm glow curl around her, the smells from the kitchen bringing tears to her eyes. A lot had gone on inside, as well, during her absence. Serious miracle worker, that Blythe. April couldn’t wait to get photos up on the Rinehart’s new website, although too bad there wasn’t a way to let potential guests experience the aromas, as well. Tears threatened again. If it hadn’t been for Clayton …

      “You okay?”

      Not alone. Right. April nodded, clearing her throat, trying to ignore the beasties tiptoeing back. Beasties too dense to realize the man didn’t want to be here.

      “If you’d told me four years ago,” she said, not looking at him, “that I’d be getting ready to open my own business, that this place would be mine …” She turned, taking in the refinished floors, the warm colors and inviting overstuffed furniture, the framed watercolors Blythe had bought from a local artist. Sigh. “We really can’t predict what life has in store for us, can we?”

      Long pause. “We sure as hell can’t.”

      Oh, Lord. Speaking of dense. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

      “I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

      She hazarded a glance. Met his gaze. Blushed in places she didn’t normally blush, a sensation simultaneously pleasant and unsettling. “You also don’t have to stay.”

      Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets, clearly not realizing what that did to the front of his jeans. “There’s a kid in your kitchen who might beg to differ. Not to mention your cousin.” Another pause. “And whatever your cousin’s making is bound to be better than packaged mac and cheese.”

      Wow. Were they having an actual conversation? “That’s really pathetic.”

      “It’s one of a handful of things Lili will eat.”

      “And the others are?”

      “Toaster Strudel, broccoli, sometimes an egg. And my mother’s vegetable soup.”

      April laughed, confusing the heck out of the beasties. Not to mention herself. “You have a very strange child.”

      “Tell me something I don’t know,” he said. Deadpan. Which was not making him less sexy. “By the way,” he added, “I haven’t been bringing her every day. But both my mom and my sister are dealing with some kind of bug. Your cousin was here and she kind of …” He frowned. “Took over.”

      “That’s Mel. Not that I wouldn’t have done the same thing.” She shrugged. “Lili’s a sweetheart. You’re welcome to bring her any time you want.”

      He nodded, muttering, “Thanks,” almost as an afterthought.

      April cleared her throat. “So … Lili’s mother …?”

      “We’re divorced.”

      And, oh, there were questions she was dying to ask. Like how young were they when they got married, why he appeared to have full custody of his daughter, if Lili even ever saw her mom, that sort of thing.

      The very sort of thing smart cookies knew to tiptoe right past.

      Patrick tried to act normal during dinner, at least for Lilianna’s sake, even though it was bugging the life out of him that he hadn’t taken advantage of April’s not-so-subtle prying to ask her about her husband. You know, give her the chance to come clean?

      But he hadn’t, and she hadn’t, so best simply to let the whole thing drop, right? After all, what did it matter in the big, or even small, scheme of things?

      Still, he could not wait to get out of here. To take his child and book it back to their little apartment, where things were safe and predictable and he couldn’t hear April’s laughter. Or see those blasted rings sparkling in the candlelight.

      Ever since discovering April was a widow, Patrick had redoubled his efforts to give his untoward musings the boot. A task that should not have been the bear it seemed determined to be, given that he was hardly a stranger to disciplining his thoughts. Otherwise he’d probably be dead by now. And, fool that he was, he’d actually thought he’d succeeded, keeping his focus on Lili, on the job, on working out, on Lili, so there was no room for anything else.

      Until there April was, again, and now he understood the shadows in her eyes, which weren’t making things better. See, realizing he had to love Lili enough for two parents—before he was even sure he knew how to love her enough for one—had been a kick in the butt to his basic humanity, too. That he couldn’t love Lili, not the way she deserved to be loved, without having empathy for his other fellow beings.

      No matter how much he’d wanted to shut himself off.

      “Okay, cake!” Mel said, duck-walking with outstretched arms behind Lili as the little girl carried in the three-tier concoction, her pleased grin nearly splitting her face in two, and April’s gaze snagged Patrick’s just long enough for him to catch something else in her eyes.

      Not to mention the blush sweeping up her neck.

      Well, hell. How had he missed that?

      It may have been a while, but unless he was mistaken the gal had the hots for him. Embarrassed as all hell about it, too, was his guess. Which he should have found gratifying, if not flattering. Or at least highly amusing. Since she was obviously channeling her grief in … other directions, there was no way in hell he was letting either of them go there.

      Because he’d amassed enough regrets for one lifetime already. And she’d get over it. Especially once the inn opened and—he took a bite of the cake, which he had to admit was crazy good, even if he wasn’t a huge chocolate fan—word got out about her cousin’s cooking. Yep, April was going to be far too busy to think about … whatever she was thinking about.

      Even so, much later, after he and Lili had returned home and he’d read Go, Dog. Go! three times before she finally conked out, after the unseasonably warm night had enticed him out onto the staircase clinging to the side on the brick building, he felt the darkness that had never completely left inside him stir, and stretch, and shift into something that felt an awful lot like yearning.

      Which would never do.

      April’s mother had always been big on that whole “see the glass as half full,” thing. “Count your blessings,” she’d say. “Look on the bright side.” And April’s personal favorite, “It could be worse.” Although heaven knew there were times, when they’d been reduced to eating grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup five nights out of seven, when she’d spot the pawn ticket and realize her mother had hocked her engagement ring—again—that April wanted to shake the woman and yell, “How could it possibly be worse?”

      Only she never had, partly because she knew Mama was doing her best, and partly because they’d never actually gone hungry. Came darn close, more times than April wanted to remember, but there’d always been food of some description on the table. And they’d always, somehow, climbed out of whatever hole her father had put them in. Occasionally they even went out to eat, if only to Denny’s or Long John Silver’s.

      And eventually Mama got her engagement ring back for good.

      So despite April’s inclination as a kid to think her mother’s irritatingly positive outlook was a lot of hooey, it’d somehow taken root in her own psyche. Maybe because they had always landed on their feet, maybe because despite everything her parents had never stopped loving each other, she didn’t know. But now, as her gaze drifted away from her computer and out her office window to watch Patrick working alongside his men—literally, on his knees in the dirt, tamping down the earth around a freshly planted bush as he joked with Duane, one of his crew—that whole “count your blessings” refrain started up again in her head.

      Because yesterday—just as a for instance—she’d heard him inquire after

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