Frank washed his hands in the sink, then ladled stew into two bowls—one for him and one for Shadow, then sat down at the table. Morgan pushed the basket with freshly baked bread toward him.
Frank dipped the bread in the stew. “Looks like you've got something on your mind.”
“My leave's been rescinded,” she said. “My record's been cleared. I can go back to my job anytime.”
Frank looked at her steadily. “So what's stopping you?”
She held his gaze. “I'm not sure I want to anymore.”
Frank was quiet for a moment. “Worse places than Pine Ridge to put down roots,” he said.
She took a piece of bread for herself, slathered it with the hand-churned butter Donna got from the farmers market, and bit into it.
“I already have roots here,” she said.
Frank looked at her for a long moment. And then he smiled. Arealsmile, the kind he’d only hinted at until now. It changed his whole face into something that let her see, briefly, the man underneath the decades of careful reserve.
“That you do,” he said. “You tell him yet?”
She didn’t have to ask who he was referring to. “About my leave being rescinded? No. You’re the first.”
Frank grunted, making Morgan smile. She’d become quite fond of the sound.
Then she refilled her bowl from the Dutch oven set on a low simmer, sat across from her grandfather, and enjoyed every bite.
40
GIVE HER TIME
PATRICK
Patrick returnedfrom moving the young family into their new starter home just beyond the bridge. It wasn’t much—just a three-bedroom, two-bath rancher that had been built back in the 80s, but they’d looked so happy. One little one, another very obviously on the way.
Was that same bliss in his near future? Or had last night been too much, too soon?
He didn’t know, because Morgan hadn’t really given him anything to go by.
He didn’t like that he didn’t know.
He checked his phone, confirming that Morgan hadn’t texted him in the five minutes since he’d last looked. Granted, it hadonly been a few hours since he’d left her at Frank’s, but a guy could hope.
On the plus side, Morgan hadn’t bolted immediately after dinner. She hadn’t gone distant. And she’d stayed the night.
That was a good sign, right? And the way she’d snuggled up to him this morning… well, she wouldn’t have done that if she wasn’t feeling that same sense of rightness.
So what if she’d thanked him for a wonderful time and got out of the car at Frank’s without any mention of when they’d see each other again. It was perfectly normal that she needed time and space to process. He’d hit her with some heavy stuff, andcroieor not, Morgan Sullivan was not the kind of woman who committed to anything without thinking it through thoroughly. He had no doubt she’d get there eventually, and when she did?—
“Well?” Riley asked from her seat at his kitchen table. “How’d it go? Did that change of clothes come in handy?” Then, without waiting for him to reply, said, “What am I saying? Of course, it did. Declan said she was still here this morning.”
He made a mental note to speak to Declan about oversharing later. Although in his defense, it was hard not to tell Riley things. She was as skilled at extracting information as her father.
“It went well.”
She huffed. “Seriously? Details, Patrick. I need details.”
He exhaled. “The dinner was good. She loved everything about the place. Then Mom came by and introduced herself and Morgan went a little deer in the headlights.”
Riley gaped at him. “Patrick.” Her voice shifted into the register she used when she was genuinely exasperated rather thanperformatively so. “Please tell me you didn’t spring a meet the parent moment on Morgan unaware.”