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The Home Is Where The Heart Is Collection. Maisey Yates
Читать онлайн.Название The Home Is Where The Heart Is Collection
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474094689
Автор произведения Maisey Yates
Серия Mills & Boon e-Book Collections
Издательство HarperCollins
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Eliza. Far from it. I think you’re amazing.”
She blinked, those green eyes reflecting the lights of the tree.
Embarrassed at words he never should have said, he looked around the room. “Speaking of Maddie, is she still getting a drink?”
“Oh. I thought she came back.”
She looked around the room a little wildly. They both spotted the little girl at the same moment. She had curled up on the sofa angled in front of the big fireplace and was sound asleep with her horse toy tucked in the crook of her arm, along with one of the soft-bodied ornaments from the tree, as if she had been making the angel ride the little horse.
She looked like one of the angels herself, with that wavy dark hair and her ethereal features.
“Some days, she gets tired easily,” Eliza said, gazing down at her daughter with a deep love that made something hard in his chest seem to break free.
He could care about both of them entirely too easily and the realization scared the hell out of him.
He hung another ornament on a space that looked a little empty. “There. That should do it for this side.”
“It looks beautiful,” she said. “Absolutely breathtaking, especially in front of the windows with that amazing scenery as a backdrop.”
There were a few more decorations in boxes for the tree but it was almost done. They stood for a moment, admiring their handiwork. He felt that connection tug between them again. It couldn’t be only one-sided, could it?
The moment stretched between them, fragile and sweet like a spun glass angel ornament.
Widow, he reminded himself. Off-limits. And probably not interested, anyway.
Needing to distract himself, he focused on something within his control. “Think I’m going to take a minute to grab something a little more substantial than apples and cheese.”
“There’s deli meat in the refrigerator. I can make you a sandwich. I’m sorry. I should have offered earlier. I didn’t think about it.”
“I can make my own sandwich, Eliza. I can even make one for you, if you’d like.”
He headed for the kitchen. To his surprise, she followed him.
“Let me do this,” she said as he started to pull the cold cuts from the refrigerator.
“Forget it. You’ve been on your feet all afternoon. Sit down. That’s an order from your boss.”
“I haven’t signed any papers. You’re not my boss yet.”
He laughed as he grabbed a loaf of crusty bread and reached for a knife. “You sound like my sister. You’re not the boss of me was one of Charlotte’s favorite phrases. We heard it all the time. With six older brothers to contend with, can you blame her?”
Her smile was as genuine as it was lovely. “I imagine she learned early to stand up for herself.”
“She did. But she also knew how to listen to us when we actually did know best. Like now, for instance. Please sit down. You’re looking a little pale, which isn’t an easy feat with that nasty bruise.”
Color crept over her cheekbones as if in rebuttal. After a long moment she pulled a chair out from the work island and complied while he went to work.
AIDAN CAINE DEFINITELY knew his way around a kitchen. Who would have guessed?
True, he was only making a sandwich, not lobster thermidor, but still. He didn’t simply slap a couple pieces of cold cuts on bread. No, he evenly sliced bread off a loaf, added some cheese he shaved with painstaking care from a heel and even washed and shredded a couple pieces of a ruffly lettuce she thought might be arugula—not that she was a lettuce expert or anything.
She watched, fascinated at his clean, efficient motions. He didn’t make a mess, he didn’t waste a speck of food. He even added a little garnish of parsley to two plates. When he was finished, it was close to a culinary work of art.
It had been a very long time since a man had fixed her a meal. Trent had hated to cook. He could cook, he just never wanted to, probably because he had worked his way through college as a grill cook at a greasy spoon and had loathed every minute of it.
Aidan slid the plate across to her. “What else can I get you? Water? Milk? Beer?”
What sort of wine went with a roast beef sandwich? she wondered. He probably knew exactly.
“I’m great with water.” She had never been much of a drinker and less so since Trent’s death.
He poured some in a fresh glass for her and set it down beside her plate.
“Thank you.” She felt stupid to have him wait on her, considering she worked for him, but she would have felt more stupid arguing again with him about it.
“You’re welcome.” He picked up his own plate and set it next to hers then took the adjacent stool.
She did her best to ignore her awareness of him, focusing instead on the delicious meal. He had added some kind of smoky mustard that made the sandwich taste like something she would find in a fancy deli somewhere.
She was hungry, she suddenly realized. Her stomach had been a little uneasy at breakfast and lunch and she hadn’t eaten much. While everything still ached, she was feeling much better right now.
“It’s delicious,” she said.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m sorry. I guess you’re a man of unexpected talents.”
He raised an eyebrow and she felt herself blush. Darn it. Sometimes she really hated her fair complexion.
“My dad runs a café in Hope’s Crossing,” Aidan said. “The Center of Hope. He put us all to work when we were kids, insisting we all could be comfortable in the kitchen. If you want the truth, I learned most of my best business leadership skills from watching my pop over the years.”
She was more curious about his family than ever, considering she would be spending the holidays with them. “Does he still have the café?”
“Yeah. He’s finally cutting back his hours a little, giving his assistant manager a little more leeway to make some of the important decisions. Now that he’s married again, he and Katherine would like to travel a bit, go back to Ireland and all the other places he’s talked about over the years. It’s tough to go anywhere when you’re chained to a stove. The man is sixty-six years old and he deserves to start taking it easy. Convincing him of that is another story.”
“Can you tell me a little about the rest of your family? The more I know about them in advance, the easier task I’ll have anticipating what they might need while they’re here.”
He gave her an approving smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes behind his glasses and she had to order her unruly hormones to stand down. She took a hasty drink of water, trying not to choke on it. This was her boss, she reminded herself.
“I told you about my pop. You’ll love him. Everybody does.”
That struck her as a singularly sweet thing for a son to say about his father.
“His wife is Katherine Thorne. They’re newlyweds, so expect plenty of billing and cooing. That’s what my dad would call it—you know, all the gooey sweetheart things people in love tend to do.”
She was aware of a sharp pang, one she rarely allowed herself these days. She and Trent had done their share of billing and cooing the first year after their marriage. They