Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Cordelia
The clink of my fork against the plate barely registers as I scrape up as much of the sauce as I can and lick the tines clean.
The sensation of being watched stops me.
I look up.
Gordie is staring at me, her eyes crinkling with her smile.
Renthrow is across from me, his lips pinned tightly as if he’s trying to contain his laughter.
Embarrassment brings color to my cheeks, and I let the fork clatter into the plate.
“Do you want more?” Renthrow offers.
I wipe my mouth with the paper towel that Gordie shared out for each of us and smile as primly as I can. “No, thanks. The food was incredible.”
“Daddy’s food is the best.” Gordie gives Renthrow a proud look.
His lips curl up in response, and my breath hitches. The man is a hulking, frightening six foot four with the shadow of a beard that’s more suited to a grumpy lumberjack. And yet, his eyes on his daughter are as soft and pure as the first snow.
“Glad you liked it.” His eyes shift to me, and they are suddenly not dewy. They are intense and probing, and I cannot breathe.
Renthrow leans over the table, never breaking his stare. As his ruggedly handsome face comes closer and closer, I inch back in my chair.
“I’ll get that for you,” he says, and to my surprise, he scoops up my plate, swings around, and heads to the kitchen.
My heart is pounding as if he actually made contact with me, and I gulp the rest of my water.
“Dad, can we watch a movie?” Gordie asks.
“It’s a school night.”
“But, Daddy—”
“Did you finish your homework?”
Gordie flops in her chair. “No.”
“Then you best get started. It’ll be bedtime soon enough.”
Gordie scrunches her nose. “Homework stinks.”
I nod in commiseration.
“Do you do homework, Delia?”
“Yup.”
“Really?”
“Every day. Want to know the worst part?”
She leans forward to hear the secret.
“If you want to get good at something, you’ll have to do homework, even as an adult.”
Gordie groans.
“Get to it, pumpkin,” Renthrow says with a note of authority. “I’m going to check when I’m finished with the dishes.”
“Okay.” Gordie runs from the table, and then she stops and turns back. “Delia.”
I lift my head to look at her. “Yes?”
“Say goodbye before you leave.”
The earnestness in her request makes me pause. “I will. I promise.”
Gordie grins and scampers up the stairs.
It’s just me and Renthrow.
I chew on my bottom lip, not sure what to say. However, the awkwardness isn’t as sharp as it once was. Maybe it’s because we shared a meal together, but I don’t find Renthrow as annoying as before, and he doesn’t seem as defensive around me either.
“Thanks for coming over to fix my car,” Renthrow says as he pours detergent into the sink. “And I’m sorry for…doubting your expertise earlier.”
“It’s okay. You had a reason to doubt since there was nothing wrong with your car before your mother called me today.”
He winces and tilts his head up with a boyish smile. “I’m sorry for that too. My mother’s been hounding me for a while, but she’s never gone this far.”
“The food made up for everything.”
My body feels languid, full and—most surprisingly—sleepy. I’m falling into a food coma when I get home.
Renthrow smiles again as if the compliment pleases him. It’s another one of those soft smiles, and I realize I’ve never seen anything more lovely.
“I’m glad we made chicken instead of steak today,” he says.
He remembered that I don’t like red meat?
I gravitate to the counter. “Should I… I mean, do you need help cleaning up?”
“I’ve got it. And you must be tired?”
“Tired?”
“That Barbie car looked like it was giving you guys some trouble.”
My eyes widen. Did he see us earlier?
“Gordie’s great.”
“I agree.” His eyes meet mine. It’s too dim to see the flecks of green inside the irises, but I know they’re there.
Shyness steals over me, and I suddenly can’t maintain eye contact.
My phone pings with a new message.
Mom: I’m coming back to town soon. I’d love to meet this ‘great love’ that you mentioned last time.
The butterflies in my stomach turn to bats from the deepest of caves. I’m going to be sick.
Renthrow notices and juts his chin at my phone. “Bad news?”
“Close. It’s my mom.” I rub my forehead, wondering how I’m going to navigate a second visit from my mother.
Mom only retreated the first time because we were both overwhelmed at the sight of each other. The next time, I won’t be able to shrug her off.
“I better go. Thanks again for the food.”
“Cordelia.”
My heart jumps when Renthrow calls my name. I take a deep, centering breath.
The giant man taps the faucet so the water stops and abandons the sink. As he walks toward me, I feel my pulse rocketing.
The fact that he’s got a Hello Kitty apron tied around his waist does not take the edge off his intimidating height and overwhelming presence. He’s wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans, but he may as well be in full hockey gear, skating down the ice to steal the puck from me.
I ease back when he steps directly into my space. “W-what are you—”
“Do you still want me?”
I can hear my pulse ringing in my ears.
“To act as your”—he stumbles over the word—“boyfriend?”
My eyebrows climb all the way to my hairline.
His gaze drops to my phone and back to me. “Isn’t that what you wanted when your mom first came to Lucky Falls?”
“Why are you bringing that up now? You made yourself extremely clear that day.”
“My circumstances have changed. I think we can help each other.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Gordie’s struggled a lot since her nanny left. Miss Truman has been with Gordie since she was two or three years old, and it hit her really hard when she left.” Renthrow pauses as if this part is hard for him to say. “She’s been diagnosed with an attachment disorder.”
I mentally retrace what I saw when I first entered the house. “The table?”
He nods, and I can see the strain in his eyes as he admits, “She has withdrawal episodes, and she goes into a state where no one can reach her. No one but you.”
The weight of those words land on me like a V8 engine. “I-I didn’t do anything.”
“You did something. And whatever it is, I need it.” He swallows hard. “I need you.”
My chest swells and contracts with a heated breath.
“I mean, my daughter needs you.” He pulls back, eyes heavy. “Today was the fastest she’s been okay again.”
“What exactly do you need me to do?”
“Come over for dinner every now and again, and if—when”—he winces—“she has another episode, can I call you?”
I fiddle with the zipper of my jacket. “What if I can’t get her out of it? What if this was just a fluke?”
“That’s a bridge we’ll cross when we get there.” He pauses. “And of course, I’ll take my boyfriend duties seriously. I don’t expect to get your help for free.”
Is this conversation really happening?
“I’m not sure that’s a fair exchange.”
“You’re doubting my boyfriend abilities?”
“I’m doubting my child-whisperer abilities. Considering the rumor mill works harder than anything else in Lucky Falls, you’ve probably heard by now that I don’t…jive well with kids.”
He’s biting back a smile. “You’re good with Gordie. That’s all that matters.”
“I need you to lower your expectations just a smidge, Renthrow.”
“How about you have a little hope, Davenport? That’s what you gave to me today.”
His words hit me right in the chest, and I blink. Hope.
“Have a little faith, Dee Dee. Ninety percent of the world is good. And I have hope for the ten percent too.”
My eyes fill with tears. That memory was so sharp, so precious. For a moment, it felt like Gwen was in the room with us.
Renthrow moves toward me. “Cordelia, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I…” I tilt my head up and realize that he’s closer than before.
There.
I can see those hazel eyes clearly, almost magical in their tones, now a completely different shade of warm amber at the center, green at the edges, and flecks of gold that catch the light.
Those eyes aren’t just beautiful. They’re magnetic, beckoning.
I should look away.
But I don’t.
Neither does he.
The air between us shifts, turning fraught with tension—a fever pitch of wholly forbidden sensations that scream to a halt when he touches my face.
His fingertips are calloused, and I feel the years and years of dedication to hockey as his hardened touch slides up my cheek. He pushes my hair behind my ear, swiping his thumb back and forth against my neck.
I don’t stiffen in discomfort. My entire body loosens.
It feels like I’m being put under a spell.
Renthrow’s eyes dart to my lips.
He inches closer.
So do I.
And then his eyes widen in some kind of realization, and he jerks away.
I cough, my face so hot, I could spark an engine.
Voice raspy, Renthrow says, “Convincing, right?”
I choke out a word that might be a yes, might be a no, might be a “please touch me again.”
He watches me, another amused smile touching his lips.
When I’ve gotten my bearings, I mutter, “Do you really think this is a good idea?”
“I don’t play about my daughter, Miss Davenport. Gordie is my entire world.”
That a blind man could see.
“As much as you help me,” Renthrow promises, “I’m going to help you ten times more.”