“Okay. And lunch?”
“I got shit in the truck.”
“Cool.” She rubbed them both on the head. “Coffee and sticky buns inside,” she offered.
“You’re going to go broke feeding us.”
“It was something my mom used to do.” Her voice went soft, and a shadow moved over her expression. “I always thought it was nice. Sure, she was paying the workers for their services, but it was something small that showed she really appreciated them.” She shrugged, looked back at her house, though she didn’t brush off the sadness so easily. “I really appreciate what you’re doing, and will every time I enjoy my morning coffee.”
Her gaze came back on him, and she smiled.
“How long ago did you lose her?”
It was a fresh wave of pain that moved across her face, but she surprised him when she said, “I was eighteen. I lost them both, a car crash.”
“I’m sorry,” Killian said softly.
She smiled again, looked around her property. “They would have loved it here.” Her smile dimmed a little. “Sometimes I swear they’re here when I catch the subtle scent of oranges and vanilla. Mom always smelled like oranges and vanilla. One year, Brock and I tried to make her perfume, using orange and vanilla extract. We almost blew up the kitchen.” That pain returned; her eyes got bright before she looked away. “Anyway, I think I’ll take these two for a walk.”
Who was Brock? The mentioning of him made her sadder. He didn’t ask, instead said, “You got your phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Not that you need it because that shirt can be seen from space.”
She glanced down at her shirt before she met his stare. “It’s great, isn’t it?”
“It’s something,” he muttered.
Mischief replaced sadness. It was a better look. “Be careful, Killian. I have a bedazzle gun, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Possession moved through him, hearing his name from her lips, but he moved past that and said, “I don’t know what the fuck that is and will die a happy man if I never do.”
“That was the wrong thing to say,” she teased, rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. “All the possibilities.”
“Go for your walk,” he said, biting back a grin.
“Okay. I’ll be back to take lunch orders,” she called, walking in the direction of the woods.
He watched her, his dogs keeping pace with her. It was a sight he could get used to seeing. He called, “Be careful.”
She waved her hand over her head. “My middle name is careful,” she said, right before she stumbled over her own feet.
He chuckled and gave her fifty/fifty odds of getting lost. At least she had her phone and his dogs. He shook his head, but he was still grinning when he got to work.
Cedar had droppedoff ten pizzas for lunch. There was only five of them, and sure there were times when he could eat a whole pizza, but two pizzas…no fucking way. She sent the leftovers home with the guys. He could tell she didn’t have a lot of experience with men. She interacted with the crew, but there was an innocence about her. She had to be in her thirties, but in some things, she seemed younger. He wondered again who Brock was? He’d known her parents, but she lost them when she was still a teenager, so a high school flame? Was her lack of experience because of him? Was she still pining for him? Or was she burned by him?
She’d lost both parents at the same time. It was admirable that she picked up the pieces. Many never recovered from a blow like that.
He finished packing up his tools then went in search of her. He found her by the pond. She was using Cooper as a pillow; he was sprawled on his side, and Max was pressed up against her. All three of them were sleeping. She hadn’t eaten at all, at least not that he had seen. He walked back inside and checked out what she had in the fridge. Seeing the ground beef, he made spaghetti and meatballs. It was the first thing his mom had taught him to cook.
He was just finishing up the salad when his dogs entered the kitchen. He knew Cedar followed them because he heard her, but when silence followed, he turned to see her standing in the doorway. “You’re making dinner.”
He didn’t answer because it wasn’t necessary.
“I’m sorry I kept you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You needed it.”