Sweet as Candy - Karla Doyle Page 0,38
always be the most important person in my life.”
“I love you too, Mommy.”
The walk to the door didn’t give her enough time to process what’d just happened. She paused with her hand on the knob and took a deep breath, schooling her outward features as far away as possible from her current inner state. Smile in place, she opened the door. “Hi.”
“Hi.” No sooner was the word out of his mouth, then his usual handsome smile thinned to a line. “Are you okay? Did something happen at work?”
She shook her head, a truthful answer to both questions. They’d only known each other a few weeks—how could he see through her façade so easily?
He stepped inside, closed and locked the door while setting the bag he’d brought on the floor. “Hey,” he said, gently cupping her chin. “I’m here. Let me help. What can I do?”
“Nothing. Not about this. It’s—” Even lowering her voice, she couldn’t take a chance her daughter might overhear. She pointed toward the living room.
Jake nodded. Thank God for an intelligent, intuitive man. “Dinner smells great.” And another thanks, this one for a man who knew when to change the subject.
“I’m glad you think so. I remember you mentioned an Italian restaurant you enjoy.”
The smile he’d arrived with returned, full force. “I remember that conversation too.”
This time, when she shook her head, she paired it with a smile. One that came easily, thanks to Jake. “I told you it wasn’t necessary to bring anything,” she said, as he retrieved the shopping bag. “Worried that my cooking might disappoint?”
“You could serve me a bowl of dirt and I’d wolf it down and ask for seconds. Nothing about you could ever disappoint.”
“Smooth as ever.”
“I stand behind every word. But this bag has nothing to do with dinner. It’s for—” He pointed toward the living room. “You can check it out first, if you want. Make sure it’s okay.”
She shook her head, waved him off as he separated the bag’s handles to make the contents visible. “I trust you.” And she did. She really did.
He followed her from the hall, leaving a healthy gap between them as they entered the living room. “Hi, Macy.” He tilted his head to get a better look at the drawing in front of her. “That’s a nice picture you’re working on.”
“Thanks.” That’s all her daughter gave him. One word. Not even an upward glance.
Good thing Jake wasn’t a quitter, because Macy clearly wasn’t going to make this easy for him. Desperately as Candace hoped they’d click, either it would happen organically or it wouldn’t.
“Excuse me while I stir the sauce.” She motioned toward the couch while walking to the adjoining kitchen. “Make yourself at home, Jake. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Is blue your favorite color, Macy?”
“For some things.” Again, Macy answered without looking away from her drawing.
“Things like butterflies, I’m guessing.”
“Mmm-hmm.” More coloring. Zero eye contact.
Candace bit her lip, forcing herself to stay quiet. So far, Macy had been detached, not rude. As long as the latter point remained the case, Candace would not interfere. That didn’t stop her from crossing her fingers though.
Jake set the shopping bag on the floor near Macy’s drawing, then settled on the couch. “I remember that you liked the big, shiny, blue butterfly that landed on me.”
“Uh-huh.” The comment may have been indifferent, but the bag definitely had Macy’s attention. Her attention diverted to the bag every few seconds. She didn’t stop coloring altogether, but the frequency and ferocity of crayon strokes dwindled with each distracted moment.
Over on the couch, Jake was doing a great job of pretending not to notice. His gaze traveled over the room as if taking it in for the first time. “This is a nice living room.”
“Thanks,” Candace said, setting two glasses of water on the coffee table as she joined him on the couch. “We’re planning to buy a little house one day, but we like it here for now.”
“Yeah?” Jake’s eyebrows rose. “That’s great. What areas are you looking at?”
She shouldn’t have shared her house-buying plan with him. Not when she couldn’t tell him that her intended move would take her as far away from Lucky’s—and by default, from him—as possible. “I’m not sure. It’s still a ways off yet.”
Jake nodded, his intrigued expression intact. “My mom has a bungalow in Stanley Park. It’s a good area. Tucked out of the way, quiet streets, schools nearby. There’s been some turnovers recently, due to seniors selling. Prices aren’t crazy-high, because a lot