Chapter Eleven #2
Cat slowly sat, aware of the warmth of his hand, and the closeness of his chair to hers.
A week ago, he wouldn’t have sat this close to her.
A week ago, Cat had just arrived from London, and the family dynamics had been overwhelming.
Things had improved so much since then. Jillian had finally thawed, warming up to Cat, but Cat wondered if their fragile truce was maybe at an end.
“I think she’s upset that you’re sitting next to me,” Cat said quietly, not wanting Olivia to hear. “It might be better if I go sit with Olivia and Jillian can sit with you.”
“I sat next to Charlotte plenty of times and Jilly never minded.”
Cat searched his eyes, looking for truth, because he was saying one thing, but she felt another. She felt him as if he were connected to her. She felt his energy and his masculinity, and it was dizzying and wonderful, but did that mean the girls could feel it too?
Could Jillian?
When Jillian returned, she was polite through dinner, but no longer as open and excited as she had been when they toured the castle, oohing and aahing with the rest of them as the lights came on.
Cat tried to focus on Jillian, and give her special attention, but Jillian, while never outright rude, shut down Cat’s attempts to draw her out. At one point Rhys caught Cat’s eye and mouthed, It’s okay. She’s okay.
But some of the joy in the evening was gone for Cat. She couldn’t help feeling as if she’d failed Jillian. She was here for the girls, after all. Their feelings and needs came first.
But it was hard not to be drawn to Rhys, and impossible not to feel his intensely physical energy. He was a man, and a disturbingly handsome man, with a brain and a body and a voice that always melted her a little bit when he spoke to her.
But Cat wasn’t kidding herself. What she felt for Rhys was exactly what Jillian didn’t want Cat to feel.
Fortunately, charming Olivia carried the evening. She’d loved the castle ruins, and the lights, and the restaurant in the very old hotel. “Mum likes those fancier places,” she said, “but I think this is perfect.”
Cat couldn’t help smiling as perfect seemed to be Olivia’s favorite word.
After dinner, they bundled up and headed outside, Christmas lights twinkling down the length of the high street, Peveril Castle still glowing above them.
Cat glanced up at the castle once more and thought it wasn’t just new memories Rhys was giving his girls.
He was giving them to Cat too. Memories Cat would cherish long after she returned home.
But just thinking about going home made her heart ache. Way more than it should.
*
Sounds drifted up from downstairs—a clatter of dishes, cheerful voices, the scrape of chairs—and a smell so heavenly her stomach almost growled. Bacon. And sausages. Rich, savory, unmistakably British, filling the whole cottage with warmth.
Climbing from bed, Cat pulled on her big red cardigan, ran a hand through her hair scraping it into a messy ponytail, and followed the scent of food down the steep narrow staircase.
The closer she got to the kitchen, the clearer the voices became.
Jillian sounded as if she was in fine form, telling stories, making her sister giggle and her father laugh, a low rumble of amusement that warmed the kitchen as much as the breakfast cooking on the stove.
They all seemed to be in good moods this morning.
No tension, no bickering, just a happy family enjoying each other.
Something warm unfurled in Cat’s chest. This was what family should sound like. This was what she’d missed as an only child growing up at her grandmother’s.
At the threshold of the kitchen, Cat paused for half a heartbeat, watching them unnoticed.
Rhys stood at the stove in shirtsleeves, spatula in hand, one hip braced against the counter.
Jillian sat cross-legged on her chair at the table, her long fair hair a tangle, waving a piece of toast for emphasis as she told some dramatic tale.
Olivia was at the table, knees pulled up to her chest, grinning, delighted by her sister’s story.
It looked like something out of a storybook, the good kind that ended with a happy-ever-after.
Then Olivia spotted her. “Cat!”
Three faces turned toward her, but it was Rhys’s reaction that caught her breath—how the chatter dimmed just a little, how the girls stilled, but Rhys …
he smiled. Not polite. Not distracted. But a smile that warmed slowly as if sunlight breaking through heavy winter clouds.
Finally, the smile reached his eyes and for a split second it felt as if he’d been waiting to see her.
Absurd, so absurd. Even more absurd was that her heart flipped.
Imagine if he was mine, she thought helplessly. Imagine a life where this—this kitchen, this man—were part of my every morning. Not someone like Rhys. Him.
Rhys cleared his throat softly, though he was still smiling. “Good morning. We were just wondering if the bacon would lure you down.”
“It worked,” she said, her voice a little lighter, a little higher than she intended.
Olivia beamed at her. “Dad does the best sausages. Mum doesn’t like sausages, so we don’t have them often but they’re very good.”
Rhys shook his head, embarrassed, but there was something in his eyes, in his expression that made Cat’s heart flip again.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She nodded, the morning light coming through the steamy kitchen window, casting a soft glow in the small old kitchen.
Rhys handed her a plate with what appeared to be a pretty impressive version of the traditional English breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms and tomatoes, and toast. Even the beans.
“Thanks, Rhys,” Cat said, as she took her usual place at the table. “But you shouldn’t have stayed to make us breakfast. You have work to do.”
“I’ve been making good progress,” he said. “And I know I’ve been spending more time working than I anticipated, but I can finally see the end in sight.”
“That must be a huge relief,” she said as he filled her coffee cup.
“Enormous,” he agreed. “When you arrived, I wasn’t sure I was going to pull it off but now … now I’m feeling pretty good. You’ve made it possible for me to get caught up. I appreciate it more than you know.”
Cat caught Jillian’s eye roll but didn’t let it bother her this morning. Cat had slept well, very well, and the rest had restored her equilibrium as well.
Rhys carried his plate to the table and joined them, sitting across from her with his girls on either side. He handed Cat the salt and pepper, his fingers brushing hers and just that light touch made her breath catch.
But just that quick breath drew Jillian’s attention, and she was staring at her, eyes narrowed, lips compressed, smile gone.
“What are you working on today?” Cat asked, trying to keep her tone friendly, non-threatening, since Jillian was still acting so sensitive.
“Sample chapters to go with the outline. The publisher is wanting to put together a sales package that marketing can also use.”
“It’s an academic book, isn’t it?”
“Clinical reference book, yes.”
“So, your audience would primarily be medical schools and teaching hospitals?”
“Precisely.” He nodded and stabbed one of his sausage bites. “Libraries at major universities have indicated an interest in carrying it, and then there are my colleagues and fellows in my field, surgical residents and specialists.”
“So, no pressure,” she said, smiling at him.
His laugh was low and husky, and it warmed her as much as the hot breakfast and coffee. “No pressure at all.”
Again, his gaze met hers, but this time it held, and Cat’s heart did an extra hard thump.
There was so much not being said that the unspoken made her pulse race.
She wished there could be more, wished she had a life like this, one where she was loved and she could love in return.
But, at the moment, it was all impractical. But still. A girl could dream.
“If I have another good day, I was thinking tonight we should go out again. Have another holiday excursion,” Rhys said, smiling at his girls and then Cat.
“There are lots of things happening in the area, and with no rain forecast for a few days, I think we should take advantage of the fine weather and explore some more.”
“You mean us,” Jillian said brightly, eyes wide, hopeful, as she focused on her father. “The three of us. Our family.”
“Yes, our family,” he said, “and Cat.”
“I thought you wanted to be with us,” Jillian said, her voice dropping a little, her tone hardening.
“We can’t leave Cat here, love—”
Jillian clenched her hand. “Why not? You don’t take Charlotte everywhere.”
Silence engulfed the table, a silence that made Cat feel as if she was drowning. Because Jillian was right. This wasn’t her family. Cat didn’t have a family but that was nothing new, and she couldn’t pretend the Harmons were her people.
“I’m good staying home,” Cat said, rising to go refresh her coffee. “I have so much work to do. I’m getting responses to my queries and I should answer, before everyone unplugs for Christmas.”
“Oh, but do come, Cat, I love it when you go with us,” Olivia said, unaware of the tension. “You make everything extra fun.”
“For you, maybe,” Jillian said darkly, dropping her fork on her plate and pushing back from the table even though her eggs were barely touched.
“Jill—” Rhys started, but his daughter was already heading for the stairs, every footstep louder than the last. The door to her room slammed hard enough to rattle a frame on the wall.
He’d risen when she stormed out and he stood there, furious, but also helpless. “This has to stop,” he gritted.
“Things are improving,” Cat said half-heartedly.
“Are they?” He looked toward the stairs. “I’m losing patience.”
“So let me handle it. You go work. We’ll sort this out. I promise.”
Rhys hesitated, nodded, and then grabbing his work bag, left. Cat stood in the entry, feeling the heavy silence all the way through her.