“I don’t like being jealous. I’ve never really been jealous before, and I don’t like it.”

“If you’d heard our conversation out by her car, you’d have heard her tell me that she hoped you and I would come into the city, have drinks, so she could get to know you. She said it was good to see me, and good to see me happy. I said pretty much the same, and I kissed her goodbye.”

“It’s just . . . you looked like a couple.”

“We’re not. That’s what you and I are. That’s what I feel,” he said when she only stared at him. “That’s what I want. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you doubt me, or that.”

“You’ve never actually said . . .”

He stepped to her, caught her face in his hands. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you. You’re the only one, Hayley. Is that clear enough?”

“Yeah.” She laid her hand on his, turned her head so that her lips pressed to his palm.

“So we’re good now?”

“It looks like. Um, you told her you were seeing someone. I mean me?”

“I didn’t have to. When you walked back out, she punched me in the arm. She said, ‘She’s taller than me, she’s thinner than me, and she’s got better hair.’ What is it about your breed and hair?”

“Never mind that. What else did she say?”

“That it was bad enough I was blowing her off, but it had to be over somebody who looked like you. I figured it for some sort of twisted girl compliment.”

“A nice one. Now I feel guilty. I bet I would like her, and that’s just a little bit irritating.” She brooded a minute, then beamed. “But I’ll get over it. I’m not going to apologize, exactly, because—hey, hands on your ass. But I’ll offer to cook you dinner.”

“Sold,” he said without hesitation.

“Got anything in mind?”

“Nothing. Surprise me. Us,” he corrected and scooped Lily up to hang her upside down. “I’ll get shortie here out of your hair. We have some havoc to wreak in the other room.”

And just like that, she thought, her life was back on level. With the sounds of growling from Harper, and wild giggles from Lily rolling out of the living room, Hayley opened the refrigerator to examine the contents.

Pitiful, she decided. A total guy assortment of beer, soft drinks, bottled water, what appeared to be an ancient fried chicken leg, two eggs, a stick of butter and a small, moldy hunk of cheese.

She opened the freezer, and hit the payload. Several carefully labeled containers of leftovers. David to the rescue. But it was a shame she couldn’t actually cook something, impress Harper.

Who’s pitiful? He flaunts another woman in your face and you grovel. Now cooking for him, like a servant. Women are nothing but servants to men. Their conveniences.

He lies as all men lie, and you believe because you’re weak and foolish.

Make him pay. They should all pay.

“No.” She said it softly when she found herself standing in front of the open freezer door. “No. Those weren’t my thoughts. And I won’t have them in my head.”

“You say something?” Harper called out.

“No. No,” she said more calmly.

There was nothing to say. Nothing to think. She would put a meal together and they’d eat. Like a couple. Or even, just a little bit, like a family.

The three of them. Only the three of them.

Chapter Fourteen

FEELING SO SETTLED was just a little spooky to Harper’s mind. They’d taken to having dinner together in the evenings. Sitting together in the kitchen, Lily strapped in the highchair he’d carted over from the main house, he and Hayley at the table with a meal, and conversation seemed so easy it made him nervous.

They were drifting into something solid, like a boat sailing toward shore in a light wind. He wasn’t sure whether when they hit it, they’d end up bruised and battered or safe and sound.

Did she seem edgy, too, under the casual? he wondered. Or was he projecting his own jitters?

It was all so normal, this eating together at the end of the day, talking about work or Lily’s latest accomplishment. Yet twined through the respite was an intensity, a feeling. A here we are, and here we’ll stay—at least for the night.

How much did he, did both of them, want to keep the “at least” in the mix?

“I was thinking,” he began, “that if things are slow inside tomorrow, I could show you how to hybridize.”

“I know a little. Roz walked me through a snapdragon.”

“I was thinking a lily. They’re a good specimen for it, and we could try one. I was thinking we could try for a mini, something in a kind of candy pink. And name it for Lily.”

Her face switched on to glow. “Really? Like create a new specimen, for her? Oh, Harper, that would be so awesome.”

“I thought pink—but a strong pink—and we could try for a hint of red blushing the petals. Red’s your color, so it’d be like Hayley’s Lily. I was thinking.”

“You’re going to make me cry.”

“Spend some time hand-pollinating and you might just cry. It’s not an instant-gratification deal.”

“I’d really like to try.”

“Then we’ll work on it. What do you think of that, shortie?” he asked Lily. “Want your own flower?”

She picked up a green bean with two delicate fingers and dropped it with some care on the floor.

“I bet she likes the flower more than her vegetables. That’s her signal she’s done.” Hayley rose. “I’ll clean her up.”

“I could do it. Give her a bath.”

With a laugh, Hayley removed the highchair tray. “Ever given a toddler a bath?”

“No, but I’ve had a few. Just fill up the tub, dump her in, hand her the soap. Then go back and dry her off after I’ve had another beer. Just kidding,” he said when Hayley’s eyes bugged out. He unstrapped Lily, hitched her up. “Your mama thinks I’m a bath moron. We’ll show her.”

“Oh, but—”

“Stay with her at all times. Don’t even turn your back. Warm water, not hot. Blah, blah, blah,” he continued as he walked away. Over his shoulder, Lily happily waved bye-bye.

She checked on them three times, but tried to be subtle about it.