And Alec hadn’t come by since.

Wow. She’d never been one for daydreaming before. This place was either growing on her or changing her. Maybe both. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Daydreaming led to false hope and unrealistic versions of the truth. She’d set goals in her life, sure, but they were attainable ones.

Alec wasn’t attainable.

When she opened the door, he stood on the other side, looking like a gentle breeze could knock him over. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and his hair stood at odd angles. Yet he still looked so good. Too handsome and rough around the edges for her to ignore the punch.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t look right. She resisted the urge to smooth her hands over his thick black hair and across his shadowed jaw.

“No.” If his face was any indication, he was just as surprised by the admission. “Am I interrupting?”

She looked over her shoulder at the table. “Ginny was just reading to me. Come in.”

Ginny bounced in her seat. “Hi, Alec!”

He stepped inside and surveyed the room, not seeming to take anything in. “Hey, Ginny. Whatcha reading?”

Faith waited for Ginny to finish answering, the worry eating at her stomach lining. “Ginny, why don’t you head into the living room for a break? You can have an hour of TV, okay?”

“Yeah!”

The second Ginny was out of earshot, Faith turned to Alec. “Is it Lacey or Jake? Did something happen?”

“No, no.” He waved his hand. “I’m sorry. It’s me. I . . .”

Drawing in a calming breath, she sat at the table and waited him out. He leaned against the island and crossed his ankles, his palms clutching the counter behind him. The position made the blue tee he wore stretch over the taut muscles of his chest and arms. He was a magnificently built man. Part of his charisma was his confidence, which he seemed to be lacking at the moment. The urge to ask him what the problem was grew fierce, but he’d come here for a reason, so she let him work it out on his own.

He sighed and swiped a hand down his face. Rubbed his jaw. “I feel like shit for what happened the other night. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

This, exactly this, was why she didn’t daydream. Because envisioning someone like him wanting her was dangerous to her heart. She knew better. Her family and previous encounters had taught her well.

She forced her tone to be even, not wanting him to feel guilty, while lead sat heavy in her stomach. “It was spur of the moment. Nothing to beat yourself up over.”

Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. Held. “It wasn’t spur of the moment. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you on the beach.” He straightened suddenly, those black eyebrows drawing together. Anger flared in his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Like the floor had just dropped out from under her? Like the room was spinning? Like every molecule in her body was exploding? Because it was. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“You look like no one’s ever said they wanted to kiss you before. The simplest things put this . . . this light in your eyes. I’m not capable of keeping that light there. I’m not in a position where I can offer more.”

He got all this from one kiss? He was more a dreamer than she was, then. She’d never been in a long-term relationship. This was uncharted territory for her. Not that anything resembling a relationship was happening between them. Even if it were, he’d just slammed on the brakes.

“It was just a kiss.” She didn’t know if she said that for him or herself.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

Suddenly, it hit her. This seemed like classic projection. He was deflecting. She wasn’t the type of woman who got men sexually frustrated, so something else was triggering this argument and making him feel guilty. “Did something else happen today?”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about!” He paced the length of the kitchen and back, finally settling on the other side of the island as if needing a barrier. “You and your clever little mind and pretty eyes that see everything. You know things without me having to say a word.” He blew out a gust of air and slapped his hands on the counter, leaning into them.

Dang it. He said the nicest things sometimes, contradicting them with a voice that was wholly pissed off. He didn’t know what to make of her?

“You think my eyes are pretty?” She hadn’t really meant to say that aloud, but that’s what her mind chose to fixate on—the compliment. Her face heated to blazing.

He pinned her with a duh look. His shoulder muscles bunched with tension and the little tick in his jaw was back. He needed a stiff drink. So did she.

She had to redirect this conversation.

“Well, that settles it. You like my eyes, you don’t understand me, and you kiss me with deep regret. We must get married at once.” Lord, what had gotten into her?

He stilled a split second before he laughed. Long and deep and jagged.

Wow. She could listen to that all day. He obviously didn’t do it nearly enough because the sound was rusty in the quiet kitchen.

She waited a few beats for her pulse to level out. “Now that you’re feeling better, what really had you knocking on the door?” She rested her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm.

It was as slow as the sunrise, but it eventually came: heat replaced the humor previously in his eyes. “You make me want to kiss you again. Really kiss you, not like the half-assed one the other night. A knock-you-off-your-feet kind of kiss.”

Only a writer . . .

God, fire roared through her veins just thinking about it, though. No one had ever spoken to her like that before.

“Since you didn’t enjoy it the first time—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.” He ran a hand through his hair. Shook his head. “I went to see my folks today. My dad has a special talent for making me feel like shit, even though he doesn’t mean to. That’s what’s bothering me.”

Parental issues. To this she could relate. “That’s too bad. It’s probably his own insecurity showing.”

“If it’s one thing my dad isn’t, it’s insecure. He just doesn’t think before he speaks. He lacks the tact gene.”

Faith decided to change the subject. “Are you still doing well on the book? You had gotten pretty far—”

“No. I stalled.”

And there it was. The real reason he was here. It had nothing to do with kissing her or the visit with his parents. Those things were temporary, irritating distractions to someone like him. Alec saw her as some kind of fix for his writer’s block. It was the only thing of real interest he saw in her. She should’ve known better.

She nodded and rose. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Faith printed off a form in Cole’s office and collected Ginny from the living room. She sat both Ginny and Alec at the kitchen table and handed Alec a pencil. She slid the book Ginny had just finished toward the waiting teenager.

“Ginny, Alec’s going to help you do your book report. Take all the time you need.” To Alec, she said, “Don’t take off if you get an idea. Let me know you’re leaving first.”

Faith didn’t look at Alec again when she left the room, because she was pretty sure the tears welling would spill if she did. Instead, she walked up the stairs to collect Ginny’s math book for later and allow a minute to collect herself.

chapter

ten

“I thought maybe we could go over some wedding ideas.” Lacey’s eyes were rounded in excitement, and she clutched several bridal magazines to her chest.

Ginny bounced on her feet. “Can we? Can we?”

“Sure.” Faith let Lacey inside the front door and followed them into the living room.

She’d gone the whole of her life never being asked her opinion or advice, and now it seemed everyone wanted a piece of her. Part of her was grateful to be included. The other part warned how temporary this place and these people were. Eventually Ginny wouldn’t need a tutor and Faith would have to move on. The rest of them would remain close, as friends or family, but Faith was just a momentary person.