"I need to cross-reference the health code. If the county considers it a retro-fit, it would trigger us having to bring it up to code if anything is lacking."
"Hell." Jeff scratched his head. "That'll blow up the cost."
"I get it." He didn't like it, though. The cafeteria line was exposure. For Annie and the other women. According to Annie, they'd been trained to handle disruptions. His stomach tightened, acid churning. How the hell was a violent ex-husband— how was a drug addict with a knife only considered a disruption?
"Cool your jets, Colonel Cranky." The kid stared at him, fuming across the table. "Let's see if we can come up with a solution."
His lips twitched, wanting to smile. "If I'm Colonel Cranky, who are you?"
"Uh—General. Obviously."
Hank laughed, relieved to temporarily set aside their problems. "Yeah—let's ask Miss Sharon. See if we can get her to start calling you General Stud Muffin."
LIGHT STREAMING THROUGH the window, Annie stretched in the too-small twin. The old frame squeaking, she turned to find the clock on the wall. Six. Her sleepy brain calculated—she could afford another half hour. On Saturdays, breakfast didn't start until seven thirty. She bolted up, shooting a glance to the boys' bed. It was Saturday.
"Mommy?"
Lurching from her bed, Annie hustled over to Tommy, before he could wake his brother. "Honey, sleep a few more minutes," she whispered. "I'm going to run down the hall and take a quick shower. Then, you can get up so we're ready when Mr. Hank picks us up."
"I needs to get ready-"
When her son would have risen, she eased him back against his pillow. "It's going to take us longer if I can't get ready first," she warned. Running her hand along the floor, she grabbed his toy backhoe. "You can play with this until I get back, okay? But, no getting up. Don't open the door."
Thankfully, Tommy settled back against his pillow, the canary yellow truck seeming to glow in their shadowed room.
Five minutes later, she was under the shower. Luckily, the bathroom wasn't very busy this early on a Saturday morning. On weekdays, there was usually a line for the showers. After soaping up and shampooing, Annie smiled as she shaved her legs. Tonight, her legs would be sliding against a different set of sheets. And a different set of legs. Strong, sexy, hairy ones. Releasing a gusting breath, she smothered her laughter.
Her face furiously heating, she shook her head. "What is wrong with you?" Three years without sex. Two years and- She paused to do the math in her head. "Ten months." Without the desire for it. And now—she couldn't wait. "You're like a volcano," she muttered. Ready to explode.
A few minutes later, she stared at her reflection in the dormitory bathroom mirror. Skin glowing, eyes shining. "A stupid grin on your face." Legs lubed up with the last drops of lotion from the bottle she'd received in their last shelter's Christmas grab bag. Thanks to a thoughtful donation, she smelled heavenly. Checking her watch, she winced as she hustled back down the corridor. The kids had been alone for fourteen minutes. Shaving had cost an extra four. Mascara an extra three. "Hopefully, Henry will think it was worth it."
It was six-thirty. From this moment on, she vowed—until they returned to the shelter on Sunday, "you're on vacation." Every moment with Henry was going to feel like a holiday. As she roused the boys, their tousled bed heads made her smile. As she listened to their excitement while she tried to get a shirt over Jason's head. Packing their little overnight bag, her fingers trembled as she folded the boys' pajamas. While they brushed their teeth, she wished she had something beautiful to wear for Henry that night. Lingerie—instead of a baseball t-shirt. But, hopefully, he wouldn't care.
An hour later, her gaze swept their room a final time before they would run downstairs for a quick breakfast. Henry was picking them up at eight.
"Mommy—we needs to take our trucks."
Unable to lose the smile she'd worn since she woke up, she nodded to her tote bag. "Toss them in."
"What about our nightlight?" Tommy's expression was momentarily confused. "What if Mr. Hank doesn't have one?"
Annie patted his stray curls, in the futile attempt to get his cowlick to lay flat. "I think Bo will be even better than a nightlight." She smiled when his eyes widened.
"I forgot about Bo!" Her son's face lit with one of his rare smiles, sending joy streaming through her. "We get Bo for two whole days."
She unplugged his old, faded superhero from the wall. "But, let's take it anyway. Just in case."
THEY WERE FINALLY HERE. With him. Hank glanced in the rearview mirror. The boys' faces, wreathed in smiles as they pointed out the window—at just about anything. Counting cars on the highway. Then counting car dealerships. And restaurants. And billboards.
"What's that one say?" Jason turned in his car seat to check with Tommy.
"I don't know." His little shoulders shrugged. "That word was too big for me. But—I liked the picture of the cow."
"Me, too." Jason's gaze returned to the window. "Look at that truck!"
Smothering his grin, his restless hand reached for Annie's. "I love listening to them."
Honey eyes glowing, she chuckled. "Me, too. You should hear them at night. As they're drifting off to sleep . . ." Her sigh was one of happiness. "I love hearing how their little brains figure stuff out."
Today, Annie seemed carefree. Happy. Impulsive, even. As soon as they'd said their goodbyes to Big Pete, she'd strapped the boys into their car seats and tossed her overnight bag on the floor in the backseat. Then, she'd climbed into the front seat of his truck, leaned across the seat and slung an arm around his neck. And she'd kissed the hell out of him. Maybe this—was the real her.
From the moment he'd laid eyes on her that morning, she'd filled his senses. Her blushing, peaches and cream skin. Beautiful eyes shining. Smelling like an intoxicating dream. Her blonde hair up in a ponytail. Hell, she'd taken his breath. It was long. Her beautiful hair was long. Tonight—it would be loose. It would waterfall against his pillow. He released an unsteady breath. And he would bury his hands in it.
She squeezed his hand. "It's finally Saturday, Henry." Her luscious cheeks stained with color.
Hell, she could read his thoughts. The desire he'd held at bay for damn near two months reared against the choke chain. "What time-" He swallowed around a sudden hoarseness. "Do they usually go to bed?"
"I don't think any time will be soon enough tonight." She glanced away. "But, it's usually around seven-thirty."
Her shy voice flooded him with heat. Electricity crackled around them. Threatening to incinerate what little willpower he had remaining. She worked her beautiful bottom lip with her teeth, making him want to groan. "We've lasted this long." Unable to resist teasing her, he shot her a glance. "I guess . . . I can make it 'til seven-forty-five."
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, he turned off the road into his long, winding drive. "This is it, boys. We're here."
Two heads craned to look out the windows. "Look at all the woods." Tommy met his gaze in the rearview mirror. "Do you go camping, Mr. Hank? Where's the pond? Is there fish?"
"Where's Nelson? And Millie," Jason asked around his thumb.
"Hang on guys. We've still got a half-mile to go." Hank couldn't help his grin. The joy thudding in his chest over their eagerness. Hell—over his eagerness. He wanted them to love it there. He wanted them . . . to stay. He wanted to convince Annie she should move in. Live there with him. Allow him to protect her—until Phil was out of the way. Until she could be free of fear. To make her decisions. To eventually convince her—they belonged together.
"Hank, this is beautiful." Annie's eyes widened as the rolling fields came into view. Then the rise. "I . . . imagined it, but this-" She shook her head. "This is . . . incredible."
He tried to view it from her perspective. His home. The place he'd fallen in love with at first sight. Like he had Gayle, that long ago day on the beach. And now—Annie. And her boys. "The house will be over to the left, once we round the next curve." He
smiled when she leaned forward, taking it all in. The canopy of trees shading the long drive. The first glimpse of the peach orchard. The stream running along the culvert. The grazing field he'd fenced by hand, where Nelson now approached, his ears twitching with the sound of his truck.
"It's . . . like a park." She clapped a hand to her smiling mouth. "Goats!" She turned to the boys. "Look—it's a goat."
"That's Nelson." Pleasure heated his chest at her excitement. "Millie's probably closer to the trees."
"Stop—I needs to pet him," Jason protested from the back.
"We're nearly there, bud. I'm gonna park near the house and we can walk back to visit them." Jason's head was still turned, trying to keep his gaze on Nelson. "I thought maybe you boys would like to feed them."
Shrieks erupted from the back as Annie smothered her laugh. "No—they're not excited at all."
Hank pulled up next to the garage, curious how Annie would react to his house. It was simple. A ranch with plenty of room for him and Bo. Gayle had loved the stone fireplace in the living room . . . and the big kitchen. What he loved best was the deck that wrapped around it. The views were beautiful in every direction. But—would she like it? Would Annie find it too plain? A flash of unease overtook him, remembering what he'd done. Would she be angry? Think he was too forward? Please don't be mad, his brain wanted to shout.
He helped her un-strap the boys from their car seats, smiled as they argued over which direction they needed to run first. Laughed when Jason announced he needed to pee. "Why don't we go inside first? I can show you the bathroom," he explained. "Then, I'll get the food for Millie and Nelson. They're probably pretty hungry by now."
"I don't wanna wait. There's too much to see."
He glanced down at Tommy. "Well, Bo's inside, too." He paused for the sharp, eager barks that broke the quiet. "Hear that? He's gonna be real happy to see you."
Tommy's eyes widened. "He needs to go with us."
"It's that way," he directed, pointing to the stairs to the deck. As the boys raced to the steps, he finally turned to Annie. "What do you think, sweet?"
Golden eyes enthralled, she stared at him. "I think—this is heaven." She shook her head. "You live . . . in a fairytale. Your home is beautiful." She leaned in to hug him. "Thank you, Henry. Thank you so much for inviting us here."
"Anytime, love." All the time. The niggle of worry eased in his chest. The rest—could wait until later. When, hopefully, she'd be so relaxed, she wouldn't care that he'd overstepped. Hopefully. "Let's go inside so I can show you around."
Chapter 13
An hour later, Annie had the strongest sensation that this place- She glanced around as they hiked a small hill to the ridge behind his home. A stream gurgled somewhere off to their right. The distant bleating of his goats carried on the breeze—mingling with the lush scent of an orchard. "I feel as though I'm in a dream."
"Wait until you see it from up here," Henry urged, pausing to chuckle when her sons' shrieks pierced the peaceful quiet. Followed by several excited barks. "Bo is having as much fun as the boys."
This beautiful, ethereal place Henry had brought them—couldn't possibly be real. Her fingers entwined with his, he walked by her side, a picnic basket grasped in his other hand. He was a solid, steady presence. His home was rustic. Sturdy. Clean lines. Simple accents. Well-built—like the man himself.
"Once I show you my favorite spot up here, we're going to head that way." Henry paused on the rise.
"What's over there?" She drank in the animation in his face. His joy—over a lazy Saturday spent wandering his property.
He grinned, the eagerness erasing a decade from his face. "The pond," he confessed. "We have a swan who visits occasionally. A family of mallards and a flock of geese. Bo loves to jump in and splash around with them."
"I bet the ducks love it, too."
"Not so much."
Her shoulders shook at the gleeful expression on his face. "So, Bo shaking water all over us is a good idea?"
His expression turned sheepish. "Well, I thought we'd picnic there. If we stay far enough from the water, you should be safe. I brought some stale bread for Tommy and Jason to feed the ducks and geese."
"I'm sure two little boys won't want to jump in, too." She calculated the single change of clothes she'd brought for them. "I assume you have a washer and dryer?"
"We'll take care of all that." He waved off her concern. "Come over here," he urged. "I want you to see my favorite spot on the farm. It was Gayle's favorite, too. We used to walk here every night."
She loved how Henry spoke of his wife. With reverence. Devotion he wasn't afraid to express. Admiration. As though she were still very much a part of him. "Show me."
Hearing the echo of the boys' laughter off to her right, Annie didn't worry about them. They were close by. And Henry is here. He wouldn't allow anything to happen to them. Relaxing, she stood with him in the glen, the scent of pine in her nose as she slowly turned in a circle. A patch of wild crocus caught her eye, the splash of yellow and purple startlingly bright against the thick carpet of pine needles. Tall trees surrounded them, shadowing their spot like a cave. Until the breeze suddenly nudged them apart.
"Look, sweet." His fingers tightened on hers.
Tilting her head back, she watched them sway in the wind. Caught her breath as streamers of light suddenly pierced the shadows, creating golden columns of light. They were caught in one, surrounded by a glowing patch of sunlight. "Henry-" She released a startled breath. "This is—like something I could read about in a book." She lowered her gaze to his, mesmerized by the blue intensity of his eyes, his face bathed in light. She smiled, unable to look away. "I feel silly saying this, but, it's—almost magical." His fingers startled against hers.
"It hits me like that, too." His husky voice wove around her as he closed the distance between them. When she swayed into him, he lowered his mouth to hers.
She sighed against his lips, wanting his warmth. Needing the reassuring strength of his presence. His hard, lean body. His resilience. The confidence she experienced when his arms were around her. As Henry took the kiss deeper, Annie closed her eyes. When the breeze picked up, the blinding sunlight danced behind her eyelids. They were enveloped in warmth as the glen filled with light. When he reluctantly parted, she opened her eyes and stared into the kindest eyes she'd ever known. Absorbed the naked longing she discovered there. The heated, sapphire gaze of the man she was weak-kneed, stomach-twisting, heart-achingly in love with. "Henry-"
"I know, love." He grazed his mouth over her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, absorbing her shivers with his strong, capable body. "I don't want this day to ever end."
Unsettled by the knowledge she could no longer deny, Annie felt the strum of sudden nerves. Of questions clouding her brain. Of fear . . . wanting to take hold. All the unknowns in her life. Phil—until he was . . . finally gone. Out of her way- Until she was settled- She burrowed closer to him, not wanting to leave his arms.
"Whatever you're thinking, love-" His whispered words caressed her temple, where his lips trailed. "For today—let's agree to let it go, okay?" His hands cupping her face, he tipped her chin up. "No worries today."
She nodded, loving the feel of his callused hands. "No worries." She lifted up on her toes to brush her lips against his. In the back of her brain, she heard the boys, tromping through the underbrush. Getting closer. No worries, she vowed. To Henry—and herself.
WHEN THE BOYS REJOINED them, Bo close on their heels, Hank reluctantly placed some distance between himself and Annie. Releasing a shaky breath, he stared at her as she pointed out the shifting light. She was beautiful. Thoughtful. Kind. She was—everything. But—today was about her. About her boys. Having a wonderful, memorable day away from the shelter.
"Is this where God lives?"
Jason's question startled him from his thoughts. "What do you mean, bud?"
His face upturned, eyes squinting against the light, Hank could see his tangled lashe
s as he pointed to the shafts of light dancing through the glen. "This feels like the place where fairies live." He glanced at Annie. "Like the books you reads us, Mommy."
Hank contemplated telling them—trying to decide whether his story would confuse them. Or worse—scare them. "This spot right here-" He crouched down next to Jason. "This was my wife's favorite spot. She always said-" He glanced up at Annie, his voice suddenly hoarse. "That it was magical."
"Who's your wife?" Tommy joined them, his stick trailing through the thick pine needles.
"Her name was Gayle. She was a pretty lady."
"Like my mom?"
Hank nodded, staring into earnest, brown eyes. "Pretty like your mom . . . but different. She had brown hair, like you. And blue eyes, like me."
"Where is she?" Tommy glanced down the hill. "She wasn't in your house."
"She . . . had to leave." He swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat, wondering whether it had been a good idea to bring it up. "She got sick . . . and now, she's in heaven."
Jason's eyes widened. "She's with your mommy? Does she sing in the choir with her?" His gaze shot to Annie. "Mr. Hank's mommy sings with the angels—in their choir."
He nodded, surprised Jason remembered that day in the daycare center. "I'm not sure she's in the choir, though. Gayle wasn't a good singer like my mom." He smiled when he heard Annie's smothered giggle. When a pinecone bonked him on the shoulder, the boys burst out laughing.
Hank grinned, realizing Gayle had made his story easier. Thanks, love. "When I'm up here . . . at her favorite spot-" He shot a glance to Annie, wondering if he was making a mistake. "Sometimes I talk to her. I ask for her advice if I'm not sure what to do."
"Does she answer?" Tommy's eyes grew wide. "Is she here?"
He nodded. "That was her—hitting me with the pinecone. She didn't like admitting she wasn't a good singer." When the breeze wove through the trees, he glanced up. "Watch what she does."
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