First

‘So why did you?’

His fingers reach for mine, stretching out and brushing tip to tip. I suck in a breath at the same moment he does and our eyes meet. The truth slips out. ‘You’re good with kids.’

Bemused, he shakes his head. ‘I don’t see a connection.’

‘You were great with that boy in the store. I guess …’ I shift and our fingertips separate. His hand holds at the same place, giving me the choice to reconnect. I don’t take it. ‘I guess a guy who can get along so well with a kid can’t be so bad.’

His fingers lift and brush my cheek so fleetingly I’d doubt the contact happened if my eyes weren’t open. He stands and holds out a hand to me. But it’s my turn for confusion. ‘Why’d you do that?’

‘Because during those rare moments when you don’t want to tear my head off, I think I might find you attractive and, on rarer occasions, almost nice. And, for some reason that’s impossible to understand, those moments kind of make me hope we may actually be able to maintain this truce.’

‘I’m beginning to understand the sentiment,’ I murmur, placing my hand in his and letting him pull me to my feet.

Chapter 4

I’m collecting plates from around the table when Jeff nudges me in the ribs with his elbow. ‘She’s something else,’ he murmurs.

Across the table, Maya laughs at a joke Travis said and for a second I’m stuck here, watching her. In the back of my mind, I’ve always known Maya’s pretty, but the sight of her at ease makes her beautiful. All the other guys have already noticed and most of dinner consisted of them telling her stories, each trying to one-up the others. She took it all in her stride and even responded equally to each story. Except mine. Granted, I didn’t really tell it—the guys told it about me—but it was the only one she didn’t really react to. Figures.

Jeff asks, ‘Are you two together?’ and I’m on high alert.

‘No,’ I tell him quietly. Before he can ask anything else, I head toward the sink.

I dump the dishes into the soapy water and return to the table for the last of the glasses. Most of the guys have excused themselves and moved into the living room to settle around the TV to watch the game. Maya stands and reaches for the bowl of salad.

‘Nice try,’ Jeff says, pulling out of her reach. ‘We’re on leftover patrol.’

‘I’ll help,’ she protests, but Jeff and Travis shake their heads.

I smile at her grumpy frown and step next to her chair. Leaning down to take her glass, I whisper to her, ‘You’re a guest. Don’t be rude.’

Her nose wrinkles. ‘How is it rude to help?’

‘Guests are supposed to relax.’ I straighten and brush my fingers over her bare shoulder. ‘So sit back and enjoy yourself for once.’

I ignore the way her lips part slightly from the touch and walk away like nothing happened. Jeff and Travis throw plastic wrap over the leftovers and shove them into the fridge, vacating the room so Maya and I have some time alone. It’s a misguided attempt to be helpful, but it’s the thought that counts.

I’m in the middle of scrubbing a plate when soft footfalls approach. She stands beside me at the sink, holding a dish towel in hand. ‘Can I help?’

‘Sure.’

I wash, she dries. In order for us both to fit by the sink, she ends up pressed up against my side, her warmth seeping through my shirt where her shoulder bumps against my arm. Her perfume is a mix of flowers and coconut, just how a tropical beach would smell.

‘So is it true?’

‘Huh?’ I look away from my rinsing of a glass to try to read her expression. ‘Is what true?’

‘That story about you and the homeless guy?’

I return to my job and try to figure out how to answer the question. She accepts the glass from me and dries it, watching me the entire time. It takes me another two plates before I can answer.

‘I guess.’

‘You guess?’ She sounds torn between amusement and frustration. ‘All that thoughtful silence and the best you can give me is “I guess”?’

I shrug. ‘I was just doing my job.’

She nods and puts a dry plate down on the growing stack. ‘Right. You dragged a burned man out of a building he was squatting in so he didn’t die in the fire. When you were starting to run low on your oxygen. Because that qualifies as just your job.’