Chapter 12
Roman
“Ithink he likes me, Daddy.”
I stiffened at the sound of my daughter’s voice.
Hailey walked into the kitchen, the gray rat—no, the feline—still curled up on her chest. A faint purring came from the skinny little thing, like it was in heaven.
I’d never liked cats. Dogs were more my thing. I’d actually been contemplating for a few years about getting a dog for protection. I hadn’t pulled the trigger because I was always so busy, and I wanted to make sure I’d be able to train it well enough so it would be safe for Hailey.
When my daughter looked back up at me, though—her eyes were shining with love and contentment. There was no way I could tell her to get rid of the rat…or cat.
“I don’t know how anyone, or anything, couldn’t like you,” I muttered, realizing I was grimacing and trying to fix my face. I wasn’t very good at it.
Palmer tensed beside me.
My attention cut to her. She had ceased her potato-mashing, and was staring down into the pot like she might’ve offended them. Her full bottom lip was sucked in, her jaw moving like she was biting at it.
“I’m really sorry,” she murmured, low like she didn’t want Hailey to hear.
My grimace turned into a sharp frown.
Hailey meandered over to the table and sat down, her whole attention on the ball of fuzz purring on her chest.
“For what?” I asked, softly.
Palmer glanced at Hailey. “I should’ve asked before I brought an animal here. It—it wasn’t my place.”
The sudden edge of panic in her expression caught me off guard. Sure, I didn’t love cats, but I wasn’t mad at her.
Before I could linger on why such a small thing had brought her to the brink of panic, I reached for the potato masher.
She jumped as my fingers brushed against hers.
Her scent wrapped around me as I stepped closer—something herbal and earthy, like essential oils and greenery. She smelled like spring in the dead of winter.
My stomach tightened, but I pretended it was hunger surfacing at the proximity of the food.
“Here.” I shifted in front of the stove.
She stepped back, but she was still close enough that we almost touched.
“Let me serve dinner. Go sit down.”
A sweet blush bloomed beneath the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks, but she still seemed worried.
I wasn’t good at comforting people I wasn’t close to, but she obviously needed reassurance.
I tried to soften my expression. She was several inches shorter than me, so I had to stoop until my eyes were level with hers.
“I’m not angry or upset with you,” I said. “I understand why you did what you did.”
I waited for a beat, holding her gaze.
Her throat dipped as she swallowed. Then she nodded, relief flickering across her expression.
I straightened, jerking my chin toward the table. “Sit,” I commanded. “I’ll serve the food.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I cleaned off the potato masher and reached for the plates. Palmer made dinner almost every night, even though I’d told her she didn’t have to.
My brow furrowed as I dished the food onto the plates. I wondered whether Palmer thought I expected too much of her. The last thing I wanted was for her to fear me.
Palmer had been an extremely unexpected help, and I was thankful for her.
We all sat down to dinner around the table. Hailey insisted on keeping the kitten tucked against her, feeding him tiny bites of chicken, despite my protests. The thing purred nonstop, clearly convinced it owned the place now.
I kept track of Palmer throughout the meal, unable to look away for too long for reasons I told myself were practical.
I watched the way she spoke to Hailey, the way she listened like every word my daughter said mattered.
Hailey leaned into her without hesitation.
She could get along with anyone, sure, but she hadn’t been herself since everyone fled to the safe house.
Seeing her familiar spark of light return made everything suddenly so much better.
After dinner, I did the dishes while Palmer and Hailey fawned over the kitten, debating names and laughing softly in the living room. The sound followed me down the hall long after I’d finished drying the plates.
When I finally settled into bed for the night, Palmer still hadn’t left my mind.
Hailey didn’t sleep in my bed much anymore since she came, and although I didn’t mind curling up with my little girl, I knew it meant good things. Healing things.
I stared up at the ceiling, exhaustion finally pulling me under, and fell asleep thinking about Palmer’s wide hazel eyes…her full, pink lips…and the way those stupid freckles stood out when she blushed.
The shrill chirp of my pager cut through the silence.
I was awake instantly.
Years of alarms had trained my body to move before my mind caught up, and I lay still for only a second, listening as the short burst of information crackled through.
I jolted upright, thinking I heard that wrong.
I reached for my phone and pulled up my department app, my chest tightening as the details loaded.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
There was a structure fire at the local café and bookshop, Latte Pages. The building held plenty of fuel for those flames.
My stomach clenched as I got ready. That building sat on Center Street, surrounded by other old storefronts—brick and timber pressed shoulder to shoulder like dominos waiting to fall. An uncontrolled fire there could spread fast. Too fast. Some of those buildings even had apartments above them.
I dragged on clothes, muscle memory guiding me through the motions, adrenaline humming beneath my skin. My team was more than capable, but this was my town. I needed to be there.
When I finished dressing and grabbed my pager and phone, I checked the time. It was just after eleven. I hadn’t been sleeping long.
I stepped out into the hallway, hesitating as my attention caught on a bedroom door closer to the staircase. Palmer.
I didn’t know whether she was still awake, but I couldn’t leave without telling her. I approached her room and knocked.
Nothing.
She was asleep, then. I knocked again.
This time I heard movement—soft footsteps—and straightened as the door slowly opened.
And promptly forgot how to breathe.
Palmer stood in the doorway, her long, golden hair loose and tumbling around her face, spilling down past her shoulders.
She was wrapped in a thin, pale-pink satin robe.
It was long-sleeved and falling to the floor, but it did nothing to hide the shape of her body.
The fabric clung to every dip and curve of her.
Heat flared through me, sharp and unwelcome, curling low.
I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to her eyes. They were sleepy and curious, completely unaware of the fire she’d lit in me.
I hadn’t felt anything like this in a very long time. Not since I’d lost Hailey’s mother.
The urge to turn and run was sudden and fierce.
“Roman?” she murmured, her voice rough with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
I tensed, the reason I’d come here snapping back into focus.
The fire at the coffee shop.
I looked away, jaw tight, trying to ground myself. “I need to leave for a little while,” I said. “There’s a fire downtown.”
She sucked in a breath. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “I want to be there to make sure it stays contained. I wanted you to know I was leaving.”
“Of course.” She nodded. “I’ll take care of Hailey.”
I tried to ignore the surge of fondness that rushed over me at those words. I nodded once. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I didn’t wait for her reply.
I turned and hurried down the hall, forcing myself not to turn back—even though I could sense her standing there, soft and warm and entirely too close to my thoughts.