The timer dinged for the quiche, and he opened the oven to pull it out. After placing the quiche and vegetables on the table, he grabbed the loaf of bread he’d picked up from the store and hoped that the meal was at least decent. He wasn’t a bad cook, per se, just an inexperienced one. When he’d been married and Teagan had been well, she’d usually cooked for the family. After she’d started spiraling, though, meals had become less and less important. It had become more about surviving, if he was honest.
The front door opened as the pair returned. “Dad, one of the kittens has a white spot on its belly!” Emma gave him the news like she’d discovered the cure for cancer, and he couldn’t help but smile. “And I think one of them is going to be long-haired while the rest are short-haired.”
“Interesting. Go wash your hands before dinner,” Gavin replied. He looked up to see Kat smiling. She’d changed since he’d seen her earlier, wearing tight skinny jeans with boots and a bright red blouse. When she smiled, though, it transformed her face, and she became not merely pretty, but beautiful. And when she turned and showed off that amazing ass of hers? Gavin had to stifle a groan.
This really hadn’t been his best idea, he admitted to himself.
Kat washed her hands before they all sat down for dinner. Despite her loquaciousness just moments earlier, Emma reverted to her normally shy self now with Kat sitting at the table. Gavin had a feeling it was because the excitement over showing Kat the kittens had faded, and now his daughter preferred to keep quiet. It didn’t help that Gavin found himself tongue-tied. Could he ever figure out how to act around this woman?
“The quiche is very good,” Kat offered into the silence. She didn’t seem fazed by the silence, and he admired her ability to talk to people with ease. “Thanks again for inviting me,” she added.
Gavin nodded. “You’re welcome.”
He wanted to ask her about the emails, but it wasn’t exactly a subject you discussed over dinner. Finally, he landed on the mundane. “How’s work?”
“Much the same as always. I teach the kids about computers and hope they don’t forget everything the next day.” Kat picked up her wineglass and swirled the wine before sipping it. “Some days a student will press the print button twenty times and we end up with some huge photo printed over and over again, so that’s usually exciting.”
His mouth twitched. He looked at Emma, but she was studiously gazing at her plate. Perhaps talking about school and students wasn’t the best idea around a girl who was one of her students.
He fell silent, feeling awkward and stupid. He’d only had one girlfriend—and then that girlfriend had become his wife—and so he had little experience with women. Having a daughter helped in a way, but he didn’t really know how to talk to a woman as put-together and beautiful and smart as Kat. She radiated confidence. Even as she cut into her piece of quiche, she somehow managed to do so with style. Gavin couldn’t explain it.
“So you were living in Boston?” Kat asked.
“Yes. For about six years or so.”
“Is Emma’s mom still there?”
Gavin swallowed. He glanced at Emma, who was now slumping down into her chair like she was trying to disappear.
“Yes, she is.” Gavin knew he sounded tight-lipped and borderline rude, but the last thing he wanted to talk about was Teagan. He wished he could talk about his ex-wife without feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, but at the moment, thinking about her only reminded him of how he’d failed his family completely.
I couldn’t save her. And now I’m afraid I won’t be able to help my daughter, either.
Kat, as if realizing she’d ventured into awkward territory, seemed to decide that silence was her best option. Gavin didn’t know what to say either, so the dinner continued with only the sounds of silverware against plates and water glasses being lifted. When Emma asked to be excused after eating only a few bites, he didn’t have the energy to fight her.
Emma went to her room, closing the door. Gavin knew she was retreating into her books, which he understood completely. He had always done the same. Although recently he’d had less time to read, he remembered reading book after book as a kid just like Emma did now. Books couldn’t hurt you—not really. A book could surprise you, sadden you, anger you, but when you closed it, it was over. It had never happened. The fantasy would dissipate, and soon you’d be thrust back into cold reality, the glimmers of that fantasy slowly fading.
Despite his insistence otherwise, Kat helped with the dishes. Gavin could barely concentrate on washing anything with her standing next to him, so close he could smell her perfume. She smelled spicy yet sweet, and he wanted to inhale against her skin to take in all the notes. How did she manage to unsettle him just by standing next to him?
They retreated to the living room, where one wall was covered with books of all sorts. Gavin might not have taken any of the china, but he’d made certain to bring his books. A wineglass in hand, Kat perused the shelves, touching some of the spines with light brushes of her fingers.
“Do you have a favorite?” she asked.
“I don’t, actually. I know I should, but I could never decide.”
He saw her try to hide a smile. “Then what are some of your favorites?”
“Would it be cheesy to say that all of these are?”
She pulled out a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude. “You’ve read all these? Impressive. I don’t know if I’ve read thirty percent of the books
