Jack’s face had lit up. “Why, you hiring?”
“If you can hold a hammer and show up on time, then I’m hiring.”
Jack had exchanged a smirk with Norah. “Come on back for dinner tonight, and we can discuss the details.”
And that was that. Cole had ended up going back for dinner that night, and every Sunday night since. He’d indeed hired Jack, though the Prescotts had done far more for Cole than he’d ever done for them. They’d treated him like a son, and that meant more than anything else.
Cole brushed his teeth and checked his phone.
What are you asking for? Jack answered. Just come over.
His lips pulled into a smile. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door. The morning was frigid, but not as cold as Christmas had been. His breath leaked out in smoky puffs before him, and he trundled down the flights of stairs from his third-floor apartment to theirs on the first.
He knocked twice before entering. Warmth encircled him, along with the smell of bacon and freshly cooked blueberry muffins. Norah was in the small kitchen, her apple blossom apron pulling against her curves. She flashed him a motherly smile as though the sight of Cole in her apartment was the best thing that had happened to her yet.
“Hey there.” She waved a soiled oven mitt at him. “Get over here and give me a hand.”
Cole obeyed. “What do you need, Norah?”
“This dad gum pan burned my hand, and I can’t get the rest of my muffins out of the oven.”
“Here.” Cole took the mitt from her and directed her to the sink before opening the oven. A blast of the smell of freshly baked goods taunted him, and he retrieved the requested pan, setting it on the cooling rack beside her cookie jar in the shape of a fat chef with an aloof expression.
“These smell amazing,” he said, placing the mitt on the counter.
“You’d better have one then.” She spoke over her shoulder. Cold water was running from the tap over her palm. “Let them cool off first.”
“How’s the hand?”
She waved him off. “I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”
Jack entered the living room, happy as always to see Cole there. “Cole! What are you doing down here so early?”
“Actually, I wonder if I can talk to you guys about something.”
Norah shut the water off as though she didn’t want to miss another word. She waved her hand dry, her gaze eagerly on Cole’s, before bustling out of the kitchen to sit before him on the couch.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” she asked. “Take your coat off, fool boy.”
He smiled and did as commanded, laying his coat on the couch beside him. Jack sat on the armrest beside his wife. Cole was grateful for their attentiveness. He rubbed a hand behind his neck.
“Brooke called me.”
Norah gasped. “No! What is that woman thinking, after all she did to you?”
Cole nodded. “She said she wants to get back together.”
“Don’t you dare,” said Norah.
“Let the man speak,” said Jack.
Norah ignored her husband. “You know you can’t do it, Cole. She was the worst woman in the world for you.”
He tapped the pads of his fingers together. “You’re right. And I know that. The thing is—you know what a mess that relationship was.”
“Yes,” said Jack, elbowing his wife. She got the hint to close her mouth and instead waggled her head encouragingly.
Cole exhaled. “I’ve met someone.”
Norah squealed like a schoolgirl. “I knew you would.”
“Quiet, I want to hear this,” said Jack.
“You be quiet. Who is she? Where did you meet her?”
“That’s a funny story, actually, and I guess I have you to thank for it, Jack. You know when I filled in for you as Santa Claus? Saylor jumped the fence so I could talk to her son and assure him Santa was coming to his house.”
“Jack! You’re a matchmaker. Her name is Saylor? Saylor what? How old is she? She’s a mother?”
While he adored Norah’s exuberant nosiness, Cole decided he’d better keep talking or he’d never finish what he needed to say. “I’ll get to that, I promise. We’ve had several dates now, and I even kissed her last night—”
Norah sighed with dreams in her gaze.
“—but I can’t help this nervous, badgering feeling in my chest about it all.”
“What do you have to be nervous for?” Norah asked, rising to make for the kitchen again. “Don’t you like her?”
“I like her. A lot,” Cole admitted, sinking into their lumpy couch. Norah shuffled back in, handing him a muffin. He took it, but it was still fairly warm, so he set it on his coat beside him, nodding his thanks.
“But?” Jack prodded.
“But what if I’m leaping from one mess to another?”
“Ah. Here’s the moment of truth.” Norah nestled beside her husband and stared at Cole intently. “What is it about her that makes you think she’s a mess? Are you nervous about her son? How old is he?”
“He’s six, and no, I’m not nervous about him. He’s a great kid. I just—” Cole paused, trying to work through his thoughts. This was one thing he loved about the Prescotts. They asked the right questions, questions another might be too timid or uncertain to ask.
“Right before I kissed her, it was almost as if she was warning me away from her. She asked if I was sure about her, implying that she dives into relationships very passionately and has a hard time letting go.”
“And you don’t want her to be too clingy?” Jack suggested.
“It’s not even that. If we’re a good fit, then clingy is definitely good.”
Jack and Norah shared an acquiescing eyebrow message. They understood better than anyone else would. Cole wanted what they had. The lingering, love-to-be-together kind of love.
“I get the feeling there’s another reason
