“No, I won’t,” I promised her.
She sighed. “I want to be a stay-at-home mom. I want to have lots of babies. I want to treat them the way my mom never treated me. I want to cook dinner for my husband every night. I want to live on a farm with chickens and pigs, and bake sourdough bread, and hang my clothes on clotheslines. I want to be Suzy Homemaker.”
My brows rose. “Really?”
She sighed. “It’s a pipe dream. I’ll never be able to do that. It’s just that’s what I want to do with my life.”
And all of a sudden, I could see it.
I could see myself riding my bike down a dirt road.
I could see myself pulling into a driveway and seeing my kids running out toward me.
I could see my wife—Silver—standing on the front porch with another baby in her arms.
I could smell the scent of fresh baked bread.
I could see it all—what my life would be like with Silver—and I wanted it.
Badly.
She turned around, giving me her back, and said, “I’m almost done here. Just a few more bolts to tighten.”
I came to lean against her car to watch her work, my eyes taking in her tiny hands as she fit it into places that my huge hands had no hope in hell of fitting.
“I could use you around here,” I mused as I watched her work. “That would’ve taken me fifteen minutes longer just because my fingers can’t fit there.”
She smiled at me over her shoulder, and I felt something in the vicinity of my heart squeeze.
God.
That smile.
Always that fucking smile.
“I’ll go with you,” I said. “I was going to get a workout in today, anyway.”
Her head tilted at the sudden change of direction our conversation had just taken.
“How have I not seen you there?” she asked.
“Because you work nights, and I work days,” I pointed out. “When I’m there, you’re probably sleeping. I try to go during lunch when Castle can get some time to himself.”
“You know him well?” she asked as she pulled back, her pink-tipped wrench in her hand catching my eye.
“I know him pretty well,” I said. “He’s been teaching me since I was old enough to think I was invincible.”
“Are you his ‘protégé?’”
I grinned. “No, that’s his daughter. I’m just the man that’s the same size as him, that he can beat up and not feel bad.”
She snickered. “I’m done. I just need to put my tools away.”
I helped her clean them up, then leaned against my toolbox as she started her car up.
It worked perfectly, which shouldn’t have surprised me but it did.
“I fuckin’ hate that your dad was the one to teach you how to do something I love,” I grumbled when she got out and walked toward me.
