Her Guardian Shifter. Karen Whiddon
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Название: Her Guardian Shifter
Автор: Karen Whiddon
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781474063463
isbn:
“I made you a map of town, showing you where all the shops are. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Once he’d accepted the folded map, she turned to go.
“Wait.”
Stopping, she turned, one eyebrow lifted.
“Thank you,” he told her. “As soon as the roads are cleared, I need to hit the grocery store. Any idea what time the plows will come through?”
“I watched the news and this storm was pretty bad. They may not. If the plows don’t make it out this way today, they’ll get our road done tomorrow.”
His heart sank. “Tomorrow?” As he spoke, his stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t had breakfast or even coffee. “I have absolutely no food. I don’t suppose you’d care to sell me a few things to tide me over until then.”
“No food?” Tilting her head, she considered him. “Please tell me you have formula for the baby.”
“Of course I do. And diapers. You can’t travel cross-country with an infant without those. Little Garth is taken care of. I’m the one who needs provisions.”
Amusement sparked in her green eyes. “I’m not going to sell you food,” she said, disappointing him. “But you won’t starve, not in my house. Come with me. I can feed you. I’m an excellent cook.”
Even though his stomach still rumbled with hunger, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to feed him. The idea of her cooking for him seemed way too intimate. Yet what alternative did he have? He could starve or he could eat.
Both embarrassed and wary and, damn it, hungry, he shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I barely know you. You shouldn’t have to...”
“It’s food.” Her smile tugged at him, invited him to smile back. “Not gold or diamonds or even splitting a bottle of red wine. A couple of simple, hearty meals. Let me make you something, starting with breakfast. You can pay me back after you’ve made it to the store. Now what’ll it be? I’ve got eggs and bread, or oatmeal if you prefer.”
His stomach growled at the thought. Still, he felt obligated to at least make an effort to decline. “I don’t want to impose,” he began.
“You’re not.” She turned to go. “Come on. And bring that adorable baby with you.”
Heaven help him, he went. The small sandwich from the night before had long ago faded from memory and he needed to eat something. Anything. Even cold cereal. He figured he’d go with oatmeal, since she probably had instant, and it would be less trouble and less intimate than asking her to fry him up a couple eggs.
Since Garth was still asleep, it was a simple matter of picking up the portable crib and carrying it with him. Good thing the kid was a sound sleeper. Eric tromped all the way up the steep flight of stairs and his son never woke. Garth had always been like that.
His lovely landlord had left her door open for him. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal out of a simple kindness on her part, but he chalked it up to being gun-shy after what had happened with Yolanda. Still, he couldn’t stand outside on the landing forever. At least, not if he wanted to eat.
Taking a deep breath, Eric stepped inside and looked around. He didn’t know what he’d expected, maybe a carbon copy of his, but her space looked completely different. Minimal furnishings, for one. Clearly, she’d chosen only what she wanted from the furniture her great-aunt had left behind. And then she’d added some other pieces, bright colors mostly. Lots of patterns, stripes and swirls and polka dots. Feminine stuff, but surprisingly comfortable looking.
Turning slowly, he wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Instead of looking garish or confusing, the effect was cheerful and homey. In a bohemian sort of way. In fact, it reminded him of photos he’d seen of some of the dorms at the college where he used to work.
“In here,” Julia called. He followed the sound of her voice and found her standing in front of the stove.
Her kitchen, too, appeared bright and clean. She’d made an attempt to modernize it, though the aging appliances and chipped counters showed its age. He set the travel crib near the table and against the wall, hopefully out of the way.
“Welcome. So what’ll it be?” she asked, her friendly tone and relaxed posture inviting him to loosen his guard.
“Oatmeal is fine,” he told her. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. You have instant, right?”
She eyed him, her expression thoughtful. “I do. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
It wasn’t, but he nodded. “Oatmeal is great on a snowy morning.”
“Coffee?” Handing him a cup, she pointed toward a half-full coffeepot. “Help yourself.”
In California, he’d come to appreciate good coffee. He’d even purchased a specialty brewer, which was on its way here with his other personal belongings. But right now, he would have settled for instant. With no expectations other than it being hot, he filled his cup and took a sip.
It was good. More than good. Right up there with the gourmet coffee served at the corner java shop he used to stop at every morning on his way to campus. A second sip and he made a small sound of pleasure, causing her to swing around and grin at him.
He felt the power of that grin like a punch in his stomach. Slightly disoriented, he finally smiled back. He definitely hadn’t expected this. Expected her.
“I take it you like my coffee?”
“I do.” His third sip made him widen his smile into a grin. “It’s delicious. I can’t tell you how badly I needed this.”
“I can imagine.” She gestured at the table, a round wooden one that she’d painted turquoise. Around it were four wooden chairs, all painted different colors. “Sit. I’ll have your breakfast ready in a minute.”
Slightly less uncomfortable, he pulled out a chair. After bustling around for a second, she put a bowl in the microwave. When it chimed, she used pot holders to remove it, dropped in a handful of raisins and carried it over to him, along with a spoon and a paper napkin. “Here you go.”
After one bite, he had to fight not to inhale the entire bowl. “This doesn’t taste like instant oatmeal,” he commented, before shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.
“Oh yeah?” She took a seat across from him, cradling her own mug of coffee. “It is, but I mashed a banana in with it before I micro-zapped it. It’s one of my favorite breakfasts in the world. Then I added raisins and cinnamon. Do you like it?”
Since he’d nearly finished his bowl, he nodded. Two more bites and he was done. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “I was really hungry.” So hungry that everything tasted better around her.
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