“So you work with him every day?” he asked.

“No, not every day. We take Sundays off.”

“Why is language so hard for him?”

“That’s the magic question,” she answered. “Nobody really knows the answer to that.”

He nodded toward the shelf. “What do the books say?”

“For the most part, they don’t say much. They talk a lot about language delays in children, but when they do, it’s usually just one aspect of a bigger problem-like autism, for instance. They recommend therapy, but they’re not specific in what kind of therapy is best. They simply recommend a program of some sort, and there are different theories as to which is most useful.”

“And the doctors?”

“They’re the ones who write the books.”

Taylor stared into his glass, thinking back on his exchanges with Kyle, then looked up again. “You know, he doesn’t talk all that bad,” he said sincerely. “I understood what he was saying, and I think he understands me, too.”

Denise ran her fingernail through one of the cracks in the table, thinking it was a kind-if not completely true-thing to say. “He’s come a long way in the last year.”

Taylor leaned forward in his seat. “I’m not just saying it,” he said earnestly. “I mean it. When we were throwing the ball back and forth? He was telling me to throw the ball, and whenever he caught it, he would say, ‘Good job.’ ”

Four words, essentially. Throw it. Good job. Denise could have said, That’s not much if you think about it, is it? and she would have been right. But Taylor was being kind, and right now she didn’t really want to get into a discussion about the limitations of Kyle’s language abilities. Instead she was more interested in the man sitting across from her. She nodded, collecting her thoughts.

“I think that has a lot to do with you, not just Kyle. You’re very patient with him, which most people aren’t. You remind me of some of the teachers I used to work with.”

“You were a teacher?”

“I taught for three years, right up until Kyle was born.”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it. I worked with second-graders, and that’s just such a great age. Kids like their teachers and are still eager to learn. It makes you feel like you can really make a difference in their lives.”

Taylor took another sip, watching her closely over the rim of his glass. Sitting in the kitchen surrounded by her things, observing her expressions as she talked about the past-it all made her seem almost softer, somehow less guarded than she had been before. He also sensed that talking about herself wasn’t something she was used to.

“Are you going to go back to it?”

“Someday,” she answered. “Maybe in a few years. We’ll have to see what happens in the future.” She sat a little straighter in her seat. “But what about you? You said you were a contractor?”

Taylor nodded. “Twelve years now.”

“And you build homes?”

“I have in the past, but generally I focus on remodeling. When I first started, those were the only types of jobs I could get because no one else wanted them. I like it, too-to me, it’s a little more challenging than building something new. You have to work with what’s already there, and nothing is ever as easy as you suspected it would be. Plus, most people have a budget, and it’s fun to try to figure out how to get them the most for their money.”

“Do you think you could do anything with this place?”

“I could make it look brand-new if you wanted. It depends on how much you wanted to spend.”

“Well,” she said gamely, “I just happen to have ten bucks burning a hole in my pocket.”

Taylor brought his hand to his chin. “Mmm.” His face assumed a serious expression. “We might have to eliminate the Corian countertops and the Sub-Zero refrigerator,” he said, and they both laughed.

“So how do you like working at Eights?” he asked.

“It’s all right. It’s what I need right now.”

“How’s Ray?”

“He’s wonderful, actually. He lets Kyle sleep in the back while I work, and that takes care of a lot of problems.”

“Has he told you about his kids?”

Denise raised her eyebrows slightly. “Your mother asked that exact same question.”

“Well, once you live here long enough, you’ll find out that everyone knows everything about everyone, and in time, everyone’s going to ask the same questions. It’s a small town.”

“Hard to stay anonymous, huh?”

“Impossible.”

“What if I keep to myself?”

“Then people will talk about that, too. But it’s not so bad, once you get used to it. Most people aren’t mean, they’re just curious. As long as you’re not doing anything immoral or illegal, most people don’t really care, and they certainly don’t dwell on it. They’re just passing the time because there’s not much else to do around here.”

“So what do you like to do? In your spare time, I mean?”

“My job and the fire department keep me fairly busy, but if I can get away, I go hunting.”

“That wouldn’t be popular with some of my friends back in Atlanta.”

“What can I say? I’m just a good ol’ boy from the South.”

Again Denise was struck by how different he was compared with the men she used to date. Not only in the obvious things-what he did and how he looked-but because he seemed content in the world he’d created for himself. He wasn’t yearning for fame or glory, he wasn’t striving to earn zillions of dollars, full of hungry plans to get ahead. In a way, he almost seemed to be a throwback to an earlier time, a time when the world didn’t seem as complicated as it did now, when simple things were what mattered most.

While she was thinking about him, Kyle called out from the bathroom, and Denise turned at the sound of his voice. Glancing at her watch, she saw that Rhonda would be by to pick her up in half an hour and she wasn’t ready yet. Taylor knew what she was thinking, and he finished the last of his glass.

“I should probably be going.”

Kyle called out again, and this time Denise answered.

“I’ll be there in a second, sweetie.” Then to Taylor: “Are you going back to the barbecue?”

Taylor nodded. “They’re probably wondering where I am.”

She gave him a mischievous smile. “Do you think they’re whispering about us?”

“Probably.”

“I’m going to have to get used to this, I guess.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they know that it didn’t mean anything.”

Her eyes leapt to his, and under his gaze she felt something stir inside, something sudden and unexpected. Before she could stop the words, they were already out.

“It meant something to me.”

Taylor seemed to study her in silence, considering what she’d said, as an embarrassed blush began to surge through her cheeks and neck. He looked around the kitchen, then toward the floor, before finally focusing on her again.

“Are you working tomorrow evening?” he finally asked.

“No,” she said a little breathlessly.

Taylor took a deep breath. God, she was pretty.

“Can I take you and Kyle to the carnival tomorrow? I’m sure Kyle would love the rides.”

Despite the fact that she’d suspected he would ask, she still felt a rush of relief when she heard the words aloud.

“I’d like that,” she said quietly.

Later that night, unable to sleep, Taylor mused that what had started as simply an ordinary day had turned into something he hadn’t anticipated. He didn’t really understand how it had happened . . . the whole situation with Denise had just sort of snowballed, almost beyond his control.

Sure, she was attractive and intelligent-he admitted that. But he’d met attractive and intelligent women before. There was just something about Denise, something about their relationship already, that had caused his normally tight control to slip just a notch. It was almost like comfort, for lack of a better word.

Which didn’t make any sense, not really, he told himself, flipping his pillow over and mashing it into shape. He barely knew her. He’d had only a few conversations with her, he’d seen her only a couple of times in his life. She probably wasn’t anything he imagined her to be.