He came in behind her and shut the door, put down the carrier, took off his boots, and placed them precisely beside hers before hanging his jacket on the coatrack. “Are you sure you don’t want a hot shower first?”
She wondered if she still smelled of baby spit-up. Plus the idea of a shower and comfy, fuzzy clothes was incredibly tempting. “I wouldn’t be much of a hostess if I did that.” Dave picked up the car seat once more and they walked through to the kitchen.
But Dave stopped at the living room. “Hey, you’ve got a fireplace. Seriously, go shower. I’ll watch the baby and start a fire. When you come out, it’ll be warmer in here.”
Apparently he was taking her “make yourself at home” comments seriously. She put the bakery bag on the butcher block. “It does sound good…”
“Go. We’ll be here when you get back.”
“I won’t be long.”
She left them there and headed to the bedroom, gathered a pair of yoga pants and a bulky Harvard hoodie, and scooted into the bathroom. The shower felt glorious and she nearly didn’t want to get out, except she knew he was waiting. Her heartbeat quickened as she thought of it. She’d invited him in for pastry and coffee, but she was in a steaming shower and he was building a fire and there was clearly an attraction at work here. Was something more going to happen? Did she want it to?
The hot water ran in rivulets over her breasts. God, she did. It had been a very long time since she’d felt like this. The bigger question was, would she let something happen? Because they barely knew each other. Attraction, desire … were all well and good. But it felt weird, knowing that the mystery man she’d been fantasizing about was flesh and blood, in her house, and unless her radar was way off, interested in her. Despite the fact that she looked like death warmed over this morning.
“Oh, stop analyzing and get out of the shower already,” she muttered to herself, shutting off the spray. There was no rush for anything. They could totally take it one step at a time. Get to know each other better. She did have some self-control, after all.
The air in the bathroom was still cold and she hurried to dry herself and get into her clothes. It would take too long to blow-dry her hair, so she simply squeezed out the water with a towel, brushed it, and held it back off her face with a thin black headband. She smoothed on some moisturizer, swiped a bit of lip balm over her lips, and decided that was enough—she didn’t want to appear too obvious.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, took a deep breath, and opened the bathroom door.
The cottage was already warming up, thanks to the thermostat and the fire she could hear crackling behind the grate. Entering the living room, she saw Dave squatting before the fireplace, adding some small sticks to the dancing flames. She hadn’t actually had a man back to her place since moving to Jewell Cove. Her little living room was changed just by having him in it. It felt smaller. More alive. Over by the sofa, the baby slept on, his head at a slight angle, one of Charlie’s throw blankets draped over him.
“You’re very good at building a fire,” she said quietly from the doorway.
He looked over his shoulder. “I could claim it was my military training, but the truth is, I was in the outdoors a lot as a kid. My dad’s a fisherman on the Chesapeake.”
She went to his side and squatted too, holding her hands out to the warmth of the fire. “Is that where you learned to fix boats?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“But you didn’t go back there when you left the army?”
“I did for a while.” He threw two thicker logs on the fire and closed the screen.
Talk about basic answers. Charlie frowned. “And then you moved here to be closer to your daughter?”
He rested his forearms on his knees. “Yes. I did my time, but it’s so hard to be a SEAL and a dad at the same time. George Adams is actually an old friend of my dad’s. He offered me a job, and that lets me support myself and be close to her.”
Charlie was curious about how his ex fit into all of this, but didn’t want to ask. Instead she focused on his daughter, who he clearly doted on. “What’s her name?”
“Nora. Nora Emily Christensen.”
Christensen. Not Ricker. Bit by bit Charlie was beginning to realize that the situation between Dave and his ex was complicated.
“That’s a beautiful name,” Charlie replied, standing up. “Now, the fire’s going, I’m warmed up, and I promised you good coffee.”
She left him in front of the fire and went to the kitchen to put on the kettle. While it was heating she got out coffee beans, her grinder, press, and frother. She put the remaining pastries on a pretty plate and ground the beans, and then when the water boiled, she warmed the press and mugs and put the milk in the microwave to heat.
It was a slightly more finicky process than using a regular coffeemaker, but it was worth it, in Charlie’s opinion. Within a few minutes she had freshly pressed coffee with a rich swirl of frothed milk added. She put both cups and the pastries on a small tray and carried it all into the living room.