Page 14 of Keeping Caroline
“Hey,” I said, stepping aside to let him pass. Once he was inside, I moved around him and picked up the litter box, carrying it inside and shutting the door. “I’ll set this in the laundry room. Do you think he’ll find it?”
Having never owned a cat, I admittedly knew nothing about caring for one.
Before I had a chance to walk away, he set the carrier on the ground and took the box from me, his massive hands grazing mine and sending a shiver through me. I realized at that moment that I was seriously in trouble, and that I was pathetic to allow a chaste touch over a litter box to give me such a reaction. I realized maybe I’d subconsciously offered him a place to stay for reasons beyond just being nice, not that I intended to act on it whatever that other reason could be. I wasn’t looking for romance.
The weight of the litter box left my hands as he took it from me, his hazel eyes making me melt. His cat meowed from within the carrier, breaking the hold his gaze had on mine.
“Oh! Should I let him out?” Setting the box beside the carrier, Tristan kneeled, reaching for the zipper. Just inside, a black cat with green eyes peeked through the mesh, patiently waiting to be set free. I kneeled beside Tristan, our shoulders brushing. “He’s probably ready to be free after the long drive,” he said, unzipping the mesh door, but before he’d even opened it all the way, the cat darted out, slipping beneath the sofa.
Tristan chuckled. “Well, I’m sure he’ll come out eventually.”
For a moment, we both remained kneeling on the ground, staring at the space beneath the sofa where Houdini had disappeared. The silence between us stretched, but I didn’t know what to say.
I was relieved when Tristan broke it, standing and offering me his hand. I took it without question, ignoring how good his skin felt against mine as he pulled me up. When my legs were straight—albeit weak—beneath me, he picked the litter box back up and turned an expectant glance toward me. “Lead the way.”
Once the cat’s box, food, and water were set up, I showed Tristan to the small guest room, telling him goodnight before going back into my bedroom where Evie was still asleep on the bed. I should’ve gone to sleep, but the minute he was out of my sight, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was exhausted, having not slept but maybe an hour, but adrenaline surged beneath my skin, making it impossible to settle down.
Climbing in bed beside Evie, I rolled onto my side and grabbed my phone. I didn’t know what I was waiting for—why my eyes were still open—but I stared at the screen for a while, listening to Evie’s gentle breaths beside me. After about thirty minutes, the screen illuminated in my hand, Tristan’s name flashing across the screen and sending the butterflies in my belly into flight. It was ridiculous how this man was affecting me. He was too young for me, and I still mourned for my late husband, but I couldn’t deny the loneliness that plagued me, nor could I deny how kind he’d been to my daughter. So, if I could allow the excitement of innocent flirtation to distract me even for a moment, I made the conscious decision to let it happen.
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I unlocked the screen, a smile spreading across my lips as I read his message.
All it said was “thank you,” followed by a smile emoji, and all I replied was “you’re welcome,” but I finished the response with a wink, letting the chips fall where they may.
Sunlight streamed in through sheer curtains, illuminating spiraling specks of dust in the air. The light in my bedroom was still on, reminding me of the extent I’d gone through the night before to ensure no one was in my house. Even after Tristan had arrived and gone to sleep, I’d never turned it off. Even with protection in the other room, I’d barely slept, every creak and whisper of the night wind sending me into a silent panic. Evie lay beside me, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of innocent sleep. As I watched her, the ghost of my nocturnal terror began to dissipate, like mist under the scrutiny of the morning sun.
Was it truly some dead mobster’s shadow looming over us? Or had Ethan’s warning, meant to protect, inadvertently spawned a monster from my own fears?
My stomach turned as I realized what I’d done, calling a man I barely knew and making him drive all the way to Alabama so I could feel safe in my own home. The air felt heavy with my regret. I had overreacted, letting paranoia get the better of me. I barely knew the guy and now he probably thought I was insane after I’d dragged him into my hysteria.
It only took a second for heat to flood my cheeks as mortification set in and for me to reach for my phone, checking to see if Tristan had messaged me from the other room, but my messages were empty aside from one from my brother checking on me, which I responded to quickly. I gently stroked Evie’s back, trying to assure her as much as myself. Although my fingers itched to text him an apology, I couldn’t bring myself to revisit my foolishness through text. I would have no choice but to face him when I left my bedroom and hope he didn’t look at me as though I had three heads.
Blowing out a breath, I unwrapped myself from the protective cocoon I had formed around Evie and rose unsteadily to my feet. My muscles ached from the tension, but more than that, my heart ached with the realization that the fortress I had built around my daughter was as much a prison as it was a shield.
“Mommy?” Voice groggy from sleep, Evie’s eyes blinked open, adjusting to the light.
“Good morning, nugget.” I forced a smile, though my cheeks felt heavy, exhaustion weighing them down. “Let’s get some breakfast, okay? Oh, before we go into the kitchen, Mr. Tristan is here to help Uncle Ethan and he’s in the other room asleep. He brought his cat.”
Eyes lighting up like Christmas morning, my daughter jumped out of bed, darting out of the bedroom before I could stop her. A second later, I heard Tristan’s voice. He was awake, so it was time to face him and hope he understood.
Pulling on a pair of tights and a long shirt, I twisted my messy hair up into a bun and walked out of my bedroom, following the sound of Evie’s endless chatter to the kitchen. My steps slowed as I stepped through the open doorway, a smile spreading across my face as I took in the scene.
Sprawled on the floor beneath the table, Houdini’s black tail flicked lazily as Evie petted the top of his head, a big smile across her face. Standing by the stove in a pair of gray joggers and a plain white tee shirt, Tristan moved something around in a pan.
The moment he saw me, a bashful smile tugged up the side of his mouth and he slid a cup of coffee across the counter to me. “Mommy! Mommy!” Eve shrieked, jumping up from the floor to hug my leg. “Mr. Tristan is making pancakes!’
When I looked back up at him, my eyebrow arching, I found him smiling back at me, his hazel eyes near golden in the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. “Is that so?”
Grabbing my hands, Evie tugged me around the table to the stove, where pancakes were indeed browning in the pan. “Yes, Mommy! He is a super spy, too, because he knew I wanted pancakes. I didn’t even have to tell him!”
“Hrmm.” Pursing my lips, I looked back at him as he flipped the pancake. “That could be a dangerous power to have—being able to read minds.” He held my gaze for a moment, and I really hoped he wasn’t reading my mind, because all my mind was telling me to do was to kiss him for making my daughter’s morning joyful—for driving all the way to Alabama to make sure we were safe—for being so damned good looking. I was starting to think I didn’t need to have a reason at all.
His smile twisted into a smirk at my comment, but he looked away from me to scoop the pancakes onto a plate. “I guess it could be dangerous,” he said, shrugging one shoulder and handing the first plate to Evie. “But it could be a good thing, allowing me to know exactly what someone wants and needs, so I can give them just that.”
I may have stopped breathing at the innuendo, or maybe my breath just got stuck for a moment, but all I could do was stare at him like a deer in the headlights, even as he held a plate of pancakes out to me.
After an awkward second of me not grabbing the plate, his smile returned, lighting up his eyes with more than a little mischief in them. “So, do you want something other than pancakes, Caroline? Your wish is my command.”
“Huh? Oh,” I choked out, nearly dropping the plate when I reached out to take it. “Pancakes are great. Tha-thank you. I love pancakes.”