First Time in Forever (Puffin Island 1)

“I remember staring at my sister who was asleep in the middle of my bed, and my grandmother telling me we were all she had. I wanted to run like hell in the opposite direction before I could screw it up, because I knew I would. There were a million ways to do things wrong, and I didn’t know how to do them right. Trust me when I say I know it feels like an overwhelming responsibility you’re not qualified for, but you’re going to be fine. You muddle through, twelve hours at a time.”

“No, you really don’t understand. I’m not the right person.” Her fierce tone caught his attention.

“Why aren’t you the right person?”

She stared at a point on his chest, her fingers clenched in her lap and then finally lifted her head and looked at him. “Because I killed my sister. She died because of me.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“SHE’S ASLEEP,” RYAN SAID, standing in the doorway. He’d spent the whole day and the whole evening taking care of things, and judging from the absence of complaint from Lizzy, he’d handled bedtime with the same cool competence he’d displayed on the beach.

“I usually read to her.”

“She told me. Green Eggs and Ham.” He gave a short laugh. “It’s been a while, but I’m still word perfect. And she recognized quite a few words, so whatever you’ve been doing has made a difference even in a short time. She’s asleep now. She’s exhausted.”

And she knew she had him to thank for that.

He’d distracted Lizzy with a game in the garden that involved so much running with the ball and the dog she’d worn herself out. When she was almost falling asleep on the spot he’d made supper, enrolling Lizzy in helping him. He’d stood her on a chair at the scrubbed kitchen table and shown her how to break eggs into a bowl.

From her position on the sofa, Emily had watched through the open door as Lizzy had smacked each egg on the side of the bowl and paused as golden yoke and slippery white had slid and pooled in the center. There had been two accid

ents, and each time he’d cleaned up and let her try again. Plenty of adults would have opted to do the job themselves. Not Ryan. He’d stood, infinitely patient, and let her master the task until the carton of eggs was empty and the bowl filled with yolks that floated like small suns on the translucent liquid.

Then he’d handed Lizzy a whisk and demonstrated the movement. When it had proven too hard, he’d covered her small hand with his and did it with her until they had a frothy mixture. It didn’t seem to bother him that he could have done it himself in a quarter of the time.

The part that involved heat, he’d done himself.

He’d stood in front of the stove in Kathleen’s sunny kitchen, sleeves rolled back to reveal powerful forearms as he poured the mixture into a pan and produced a perfect omelet.

She’d wondered how she could be noticing he was sexy at a time like this. Apparently she was more vulnerable to the appeal of the strong protective type than she’d thought.

She felt dizzy and strange, as if a healing wound had suddenly been wrenched open, leaving her bleeding and weak. Her mind was flooded with thoughts she’d worked hard to block out for most of her life. At some point she must have slept because she woke to find herself covered with the patchwork quilt.

And now he was standing there, no doubt wondering how soon he could reasonably leave.

“I’ve taken up so much of your time—”

“It’s my time. My choice how I spend it. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Did you leave the door open so we can hear her?”

“Cocoa is lying at the bottom of her bed. If she wakes, we’ll know.”

“The dog is on her bed?”

“The two of them seemed happy with that arrangement. Is it a problem?”

“No.” Emily slumped back against the sofa, thinking that of all the problems she had, that one didn’t even register. “I can’t believe you looked after her all afternoon.”

He eased himself away from the door frame and strolled into the room, a smile playing around his mouth. “You owe me. And I’ll be collecting.”

She didn’t know whether it was his words or the look in his eyes, but something sent her pulse hammering like rain on a roof. The air simmered with a heat that made it difficult to breathe. She had no defenses against his brand of raw sexuality. She felt out of control, as if she needed to fasten a seat belt or anchor herself to an immovable object. It was like tiptoeing around the rim of an active volcano, knowing that one wrong step would send you plunging into a fiery furnace.

“What do you usually charge for babysitting services?”

“I don’t offer babysitting services. This was an exclusive, one-off deal. Don’t ever mention it.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “I wouldn’t want word to get around.”

“In that case I’m especially grateful for your sacrifice.”