“I don’t disagree, but what are they going to do? I know this person—or persons—is untraceable. It’s a threat, but unless they can ID him, the most I could do is get a restraining order, if I knew who he was. But since we don’t, there’s not much we can do.”
Gavin just glared at the ground. “I get what you’re saying,” he finally said, “but I’m not going to sit around and do nothing.” He took her hands. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Kat. I promise you that. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but we need to figure this out. Can you come over tonight?”
She blinked. “To your apartment?”
At that, his fierce expression softened into a grin. “For dinner only. I promise. Emma will be there anyway.”
She still hesitated. Being in Gavin’s space, seeing his apartment, just being in close quarters? It was a recipe for disaster. Or rather, a recipe for letting whatever this was get beyond a few kisses in a parking lot one night.
But Kat realized with a start that she didn’t want to return to her grandmother’s house all alone to think and stew and be afraid.
“Okay, yes. Dinner. Should I bring anything?”
He smiled, and her heart pounded for an entirely different reason now. “Just yourself. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Chapter Six
“Emma, could you set the table?” Gavin called from the kitchen.
He could see his daughter’s blonde head pop up from the couch before she called back, “What?”
He sighed. “Come set the table, please!”
“Why? We never set the table for dinner.”
God save him from questioning eight-year-olds. Although Emma was shy around people she didn’t know and was often extremely self-conscious in public, she managed to seem more like your usual kid when at home. It was some small comfort to Gavin that the daughter he’d gotten used to before everything that had happened still existed.
Emma wandered into the kitchen to watch him. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re cooking.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Ms. Williamson is coming to dinner, that’s why. Now, go set the table like I asked you to.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but Gavin was so happy to see her acting like a real kid that he didn’t have the heart to reprimand her for it. Better to have a daughter rolling her eyes than hiding behind him because she was terrified of invisible monsters.
He heard the clatter of silverware and glasses as he attempted to finish sautéing the vegetables. After messaging Jaime for advice on what to serve, Gavin had decided a quiche would be easiest to manage in the short time frame he’d given himself. When he’d asked Kat for dinner, he’d realized—only afterward—that he’d have to, in fact, cook something edible. Most nights he was too tired to do more than put something in the oven or microwave for himself and Emma. He winced inwardly. He probably should do better on that front, at least for Emma, if not for himself.
“Okay, I’m done,” Emma said as she came back into the tiny kitchen. They currently lived in a small apartment above Mike’s grocery store, and although it had two bedrooms, sometimes it felt overly crowded with one adult and one child. It was a far cry from their house in Boston. Then again, that house had too many painful memories; it was the last place Gavin wanted to return to.
“Did you use placemats?” he asked absently, wondering if the zucchini was supposed to be this soft.
Emma made a huffing sound. “Of course I did.”
“Good. Be sure to fill a pitcher with ice water before Kat—I mean Ms. Williamson—gets here.”
She didn’t say anything, but just watched as he transferred the vegetables to a plate. Gavin hadn’t taken much in the way of stuff when he’d left Boston. All the china and silverware he hadn’t cared anything about. Now, though, he wished he had something nicer than plastic plates and glasses. How he’d ended up bringing any placemats with him was beyond him. He’d been in such a daze it was a wonder he’d managed to get himself all the way here without incident.
A knock on the front door sounded, and Emma ran to get it before Gavin even asked her to. He listened as Kat said hello to Emma, and he tried to stop his heart from racing as he thought about Kat being here, in his apartment, which was only a few yards from his bedroom, which had his bed, which he could kiss her in, and touch her, and…
“It smells amazing,” Kat said as she walked into the kitchen. “You cooked for me?”
Gavin opened the oven to take out the quiche. He sighed in relief to see it wasn’t a soupy mess, but it still needed a few more minutes. “I tried, at least,” he replied grimly. “If it tastes awful, feel free to tell me as much.”
“Don’t worry, we will,” Emma chirped.
He gave Emma a look. “How about you go show Ms. Williamson those kittens, little miss sassy?”
Emma didn’t need to be asked twice. She practically bolted from the apartment, dragging Kat along with her. Knowing Emma, she’d knock on Joy McGuire’s door—Gavin’s brother’s fiancée—and ask her to come, too, even though she’d seen the kittens at least twice already.
Gavin had a feeling Emma would ask to keep one of those kittens, but they were still too young to part from their mother, so he had a bit of time to stall. He wasn’t averse to having a pet, but right now he had way too much on his plate to care for a kitten. Emma could help, but she was young enough that Gavin would still have to help her.
He rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t need to be thinking about kittens right now. He needed to figure out how to help Kat with these threats she’d received. Gavin didn’t know
