by Addison Fox
Summer took her daughter, nuzzling her soft hair. “Hey, sweetheart. You have fun with Ashton?”
Chloe began jabbering an entire story only she could understand.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you extra for your time? Coming out here—out of your way? I feel bad.”
Ashton’s eyes widened. “No. No. That’s really not necessary. You definitely cannot pay me. Summer, I should—”
He stopped, rubbing a hand over his forehead.
“You should what?” she finally asked when it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything more.
As usual.
He gave a tiny sigh, then a smile. “Nothing. Really, it was no problem helping you. Just call me if there’s anything else you need.”
What if she needed to ask him to dinner? What would he say to that? No doubt he would stutter and get embarrassed.
But would he stutter yes or stutter no?
Summer had been out of the dating game for a long time. She and Tyler had been married three years when he’d died nearly two years ago. So it had been over five years since she’d asked anyone—or been asked by anyone—for a date. She wasn’t sure she even knew how to start now.
All she knew was that it was nice to be around a man who didn’t know that her husband had died suddenly and tragically. Didn’t look at her with barely veiled pity in his eyes.
She turned toward the kitchen counter and grabbed a plate. “Well, I made you some muffins. Blueberry.”
She thrust the plate holding the half dozen oversize muffins toward him.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Now she felt like an idiot. “Oh. Yeah, well, I just felt like baking.” At four o’clock this morning when she’d realized he might be coming over in a few hours to fix the leak. “And thought you might like some. I can’t eat them all.”
She wished she’d never brought it up.
“Oh, well, they look delicious. Thank you very much.”
He took the plate. She ignored the tiny bit of guilt she felt over the knowledge that he’d probably return the plate in the next couple of days and she’d get to see him again.
That was not why she’d baked him muffins.
He was a single guy. He probably didn’t get a lot of home-cooked items. That’s why she’d baked him muffins.
He glanced at his watch and winced. “Okay, I’ve got to get going. Just call me if there are any other problems, okay? And thank you.” He held up the plate.
He reached over quickly and tickled Chloe’s cheek, causing her to laugh. “Bye, you little heartbreaker. Be good for your mama.”
He was out the door before she could say anything else.
What would she say anyway?
Bring me back my muffin plate tomorrow and when you do, ask me to dinner!
She wished she had the guts.
Summer put Chloe in her high chair and set some Cheerios in a small plastic bowl on the tray. Within seconds, they were spread out all over the tray and she was trying to feed herself with both fists at once.
Chloe wasn’t much of a conversationalist either.
Summer had lost her husband to useless violence so long ago now. She missed Tyler every day, wished he was here to see his daughter and what a beautiful, smart, delightful baby she was. But Summer had long since accepted Tyler wasn’t coming back. He wouldn’t want her to waste her life pining over what couldn’t be changed. He would always live in her heart.
So maybe someday soon she would ask Ashton out. He seemed like a good man, if a little shy, but solid, steady, dependable.
And hot as all get-out.
Summer could use a little solid-and-steady, even if the words sounded boring to her. She’d had enough excitement in her twenty-six years. First Tyler’s death, then eight months ago when a crazy stalker linked to Tyler’s case had taken her and Chloe and trapped them in a burning building.
Some Omega Sector agents who worked with Joe Matarazzo had gotten her and Chloe out. Joe had been able to stop the stalker and save his wife, Laura—whom the psycho had also taken—although only barely.
Summer didn’t remember a lot of what had happened in that building. She’d been drugged so everything had been hazy. She just remembered a man in full combat gear, breaking through the door of the small room where she and Chloe had been placed and carrying them both out to safety—as if carrying them had been no difficulty for him at all. The whole scene had been so chaotic, Summer hadn’t even been able to thank him.
So yeah, she’d had enough of excitement. Was ready for a little bit of boring, like maybe a quiet handyman. Although she doubted Ashton was boring once someone got to know him. At least she hoped not.
Summer almost absently gave Chloe more Cheerios before reaching down to grab the ones that had been knocked to the floor and throwing them in the trash.
Summer dreamed a lot—almost every night. Vivid, lifelike dreams. For a while they had been terrifying ones of Tyler’s death. Thankfully those had gone away.
Now she often dreamed about her kidnapping and the fire. She dreamed about the man who’d gotten her out. Who’d carried her safely in his arms.
Capable. Strong. Calm and steady under pressure.
But in every dream, no matter how it started or what she did differently, there was only one face she ever assigned to her hero: Ashton’s.
Ashton Fitzgerald may be strong. And even capable in a lot of situations. But he was no rush-into-a-burning-building sort of hero. Which was fine. There were all types of heroes. Ashton was just the type who came by early and fixed sinks, rather than leaping tall buildings in a single bound. Summer had no problem with that.
She just wished she could convince her subconscious.
Copyright © 2017 by Janie Crouch
ISBN-13: 9781488013140
Colton K-9 Cop
Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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