Mother, Please! - By Brenda Novak & Jill Shalvis & Alison Kent Page 0,68

to check the level of coffee in the carafe instead. “Avery?”

“No, David. It doesn’t bother me.” She hesitated; he waited. “It’s just a personal-space issue.”

“Uh-huh,” was all he said, getting back to his breakfast and waiting for her to come around.

“Fine. Don’t believe me.” She huffed again.

“I don’t.” She may have hung around the Dairy Queen when he’d been working, but even then she’d kept her distance.

She’d been keeping her distance since she’d backed away and left the scrawny beanpole he was to face down the one kid in Tatem High’s student body of seventy-five no one was ballsy enough to call down for being a thug.

She stewed for a long moment, finally coming back with, “Why?”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

She nodded. “You have no reason not to.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” She shook her head. Too vigorously. “It’s a space issue, like I said. It’s nothing personal at all.”

And, at that, he laughed. He had to. His frustration was off the charts, and he was digging himself an early grave chasing this circle of a conversation into the ground.

So he laughed. Then he got up, pushing away from the table and to his feet. A button of his chambray shirt caught on the table’s loose aluminum flashing and rolled across the floor to Avery’s feet. To the toe of one sandal. To her nails painted a soft frosty blue. Blue. Her toenails were blue.

He bent. She bent. She picked up the button. He hesitated, then ran his thumb over the tips of her blue-painted toes. She caught her breath but didn’t pull her foot away. He smiled to himself, straightened and stepped as close as he could, waiting for her to bolt as he invaded the very space she claimed to value so highly.

She didn’t bolt. She remained exactly where she was. He could see the flutter of her straight blond hair where air from the vent above the kitchen sink blew down. He could see the half-moon shadows of her lashes above her cheeks. He could see the girl who’d been frightened all those years ago in the face of the woman frightened now.

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her, to make her nervous or uncomfortable. He only wanted some sort of peace so that passing on the staircase would be a normal course of daily affairs. One they both could live with.

Yeah. That was all he wanted. He lifted a hand and tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering as he asked, “What are you afraid of, Avery?”

Her chin came up; her blue-eyed gaze met his undauntedly. He saw the things she wanted to say, watched them flash brightly then fade, the retreat into the safe harbor that he instinctively knew she’d been making for years.

“I’m not afraid,” she said. “I’m…worried. About my mother. I assumed she made a quick trip to the market and would be home by now.”

“I’m sure she’s fine.” And he was. Suzannah had looked like a million bucks, like she hadn’t a care in the world but for her clogged sink. He knew the truth about what was going on with her, but he wasn’t going to share it with her daughter per Suzannah’s request. Her private life was hers to keep secret or to share in her own time.

“I know,” Avery was saying. “It’s just that she’s always home on Saturday mornings. And anytime she plans to be out, she lets me know.” And, as she said it, she continued to stare into his eyes.

David swore the room’s heat descended from the ceiling and entered his pores. He drew his hand down the strand of hair he still held and moved his palm to her shoulder. He squeezed, his fingertips slipping beneath the edge of the shirt’s armhole so that he grazed the strap of her bra.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, as if she knew his intent was to kiss her when even he hadn’t yet made that decision. It was what he wanted. God, but it was what he wanted. Yet he hadn’t quite figured how to slide into the crack between what she said with her eyes and what she told him with her mouth.

Right now, he was listening to her mouth. Not spoken words, but the dampness of her lower lip that appeared to quiver as he lowered his head. He moved his other hand to cup her neck, his thumb beneath her chin to lift her head. Her breath was