Kenton had to stop himself from begging for one more story from her. The evening, despite his earlier worries about security, had been nice. There was something special about sitting in the glow of the fire.
But then he saw Emma yawn and knew the night was over. He checked his watch. It was already past their usual bedtime, and everything he’d read about raising kids had agreed that a regular bedtime needed to be observed. He rose, lifting Ava with him.
“I’ll get them settled, if you want to…” Mia tilted her head toward the front door.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, surprised that he hadn’t been the one to realize it was time for another security sweep.
He wished the girls good night before Mia took them upstairs by the light of a flashlight. Once alone, he moved through the house in the same pattern he had earlier, taking extra time outside now that the rain had lessened. The air was cold and clammy, but the threat of storms had moved off. A truck from the electric company turned onto the street. A good sign that the power would be restored soon. He’d stay awake until it was to make sure the security system came back up as it should.
When he returned to the living room, he found Mia cleaning up the s’more makings. She was packing up the evening, and he had a desire to prolong it.
“A glass of red wine would go well with the chocolate, if you’re game,” he said as his nerves flared to life, preparing for the inevitable sting should she reject his offer.
“A glass of wine?” She straightened, her voice rife with surprise. “With me?”
“Well, Eliot too. He has woken me up several days in a row now. So, I guess you could say things are getting pretty serious.”
She laughed. “I’ll join you two if there’s room. I’ve got some dark chocolate in the kitchen. Do you want me to grab a bottle from the wine rack?”
He nodded. “I’ll add an extra log to the fire.” During other evenings, he and Mia had parted as soon as the kids were in bed. She had to get up early, and he enjoyed the quiet to check with his contacts and do some reading about parenting. So this was new.
A few minutes later, she carried in a tray of supplies. He opened the bottle and poured them each a glass. Without discussing it, they both sat on the floor in front of the hearth. It seemed a better choice than the couch for the evening.
“What should we talk about?” she asked after they’d clinked glasses and tasted the wine. It was a rich vintage, and he felt its warmth travel through his veins. That heat could be the company, too, he admitted. The flicker of firelight on Mia’s skin was tantalizing. He needed to come up with a topic of conversation fast, or he’d start thinking about how her knit shirt showed off the swell of her breasts. Enough. He cut his thoughts off.
“How did you end up working at a bakery? Did you go to culinary school?” He had wondered about her history, and it seemed a safer topic than his contemplation of her figure.
“No.” She shook her head. “I tried college, but I couldn’t see spending the money when I didn’t know what I wanted to do. So I left after a semester and began to wander. I took jobs that appealed to me and knocked around the country for several years.”
“What was your favorite place?” Even though he’d never want a life like that, he was fascinated by it.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She broke off a couple of squares from the dark chocolate bar and handed one to him. “There have been a lot of interesting places. I think Savannah was my favorite city. It has a cool, laid-back vibe. And the tips were good.” She raised her glass and took another sip of wine.
“Where did you work?” he asked to draw her out.
“Restaurants, mostly. I get the food business, and I love talking to people.”
He could see that about her, even if he didn’t have a similar ease around others. She had a way of making everyone feel comfortable.
“What about you?” She turned the question on him. “Did you plan to join the Navy after high school?”
“I made that decision when I was ten and set my sights on it. If I hadn’t gotten into Annapolis, I’m not sure what I’d have done.” That goal had controlled what he’d done throughout his youth, because he knew what it would take to be accepted: excellent grades, athletic skill, and self-discipline. He’d started talking to recruiters when he was fifteen.
“My guess is that there was no danger of you not getting in.” She watched him over the rim of her wineglass.
“Probably not,” he conceded. “I was focused.”
“Was?” Her brows lifted. “I think you still are.”
“Well, yeah. You’ve got to have a plan in life. That’s how you get what you want.” It was a lesson he’d learned early. His uncle Ned had a dream, but no plan to achieve it. When Kenton was nine, Uncle Ned had gone off to Nashville expecting to make it big in country music. He had talent, but no connections and no plan to make them. He just hoped to be “discovered.” A year later, he’d come back, having gone through all his savings without ever achieving any success, and he had to live with Kenton’s family until he could get back on his feet. It was partly Uncle Ned’s example that had driven Kenton to be so regimented about his own future. That and the example set by his own parents.
“You mean like this house?” she asked.
“A solid home is important to me.” He didn’t add that the home was a foundational step in his life plan of home, wife, and kids.
“And you won’t end up homeless like me,” she quipped. He looked at her to assess her tone, but her poker face was in place.
“That apartment fire wasn’t your fault,” he said. Something like that could happen to anyone.
“No, but like other things, it set me in a different direction. I never know for sure what’s coming next, and usually that’s okay. I figure the universe gives me what I need when I need it. Losing my apartment meant I found my way here temporarily. Who knows where it will take me next?”
“What about the girls?” Having kids had to have changed her nomadic ways. Kids took planning.
“They’re young enough to go with the flow. Once they get to be school age, I’ll have to make decisions about where I want to be, but I have three or four years before I need to worry about that. Until then, I’m open to new experiences. Like meeting you,” she added softly.
“Huh?” She was happy to have met him?
“I wouldn’t have met you without the series of events that led me to your house.”
Was it important to her that they’d met? He hadn’t thought about the coincidence that had brought them together and given him a taste of raising kids. He couldn’t have planned for that and wasn’t sure how to respond, so he chose caution. “I hope it’s been a good experience.”
“It has. We’re very different.” She leaned back against a pillow. “But I like you.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’ve learned not to guess what people are like until I’ve met them. About you, based on your mother’s words and what I saw in the house, I might have misjudged.”
“How so?” He finished his wine and set it aside.