A Place Called Home (The McInnes Triplets Book 1) by Margaret Watson

Author:Margaret Watson [Watson, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Dragonfly Press
Published: 2017-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“Thanks again for coming to the shelter tonight,” Zoe said as she opened her front door. “You were a big help.”

“Is that your standard volunteer speech?” he asked as he followed her into the house. “If so, it could use a little more zip. Maybe you could say you’d have been lost without me. Or no one has ever done a better job.”

Was he teasing her? “You do swing a pretty mean hammer,” she said, closing the door behind him. “And what you can do with a screwdriver is magic.” Not to mention how kind and careful he’d been to all the women. And how he’d had the children giggling.

“I’m good with a lot of tools,” he said with a straight face.

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Oh, God. I haven’t heard that line since high school.”

“Hey, I stick with what works,” he said.

She hadn’t intended to invite him in. She’d planned on thanking him and saying good-night. But her preconceived ideas about Gideon had been turned on their ear this evening. Now she was even more curious about him.

“Would you like a beer? Or some wine?”

“A beer sounds good.”

When she returned from the kitchen with his Leinie and a glass of wine for herself, he was studying the pictures on the wall. “Did the girl who wanted to read the Harry Potter book draw this?” he asked, pointing at a picture of a stick figure with glasses holding a wand.

“Yep, that’s Ashley’s.” Remembering the girl’s joy in the story, Zoe smiled. “I don’t think she’d ever read a book for pleasure before the first Harry Potter.”

“You impressed me tonight,” he said, taking a drink of his beer and holding her gaze. “In a lot of ways.”

“You flatterer, you,” she said, uncomfortable with the intensity in his eyes.

“You connect with those women. They all adore you.”

“They’re not afraid for the first time in a long time. That’s all it is.”

“Hmm.” He set the beer on her coffee table and lowered himself to the couch. “And what was up with your attorney and the cop? Why did you put them in the same group? They bickered the whole time.”

“Ellen and Jamie,” she said, sitting in the chair next to him, grateful he’d changed the subject. “They’re interested in each other, but neither of them will make the first move. I was just throwing a few logs on the fire.”

“You’re a romantic,” Gideon said, sipping his beer. “I never would have guessed.”

“It’s easy to be a romantic with other people’s lives,” she said lightly.

“But not your own.”

“I’m a realist.” She looked at his arm, stretched across the back of the couch, and remembered the ropy muscle beneath his skin from the other night. I need to be realistic about Gideon. “I’d guess you are, too.”

“I think I’m surprising myself,” he said, shifting to face her. He stretched his legs out on either side of hers, brushing against them. Her legs were caught between his for a moment. Then he released her. She sucked in her breath, but he didn’t seem to notice.

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