Ford wiped down the sink, then cleaned up his tools. I watched him move around the kitchen, quietly efficient, like he belonged here.
When he finished, he washed his hands and shook off the water. “All set,” he said. “Should last you a while.”
I nodded, searching for something to say that wouldn’t sound like a line from a Hallmark movie. “Thank you. Seriously. You didn’t have to do this.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to.”
I could feel the unsaid words hanging in the air between us. I wanted to ask him why he bothered, what he got out of fixing things for people who couldn’t pay him back. I wanted to ask what he saw when he looked at me—if he saw someone worth saving, or just another broken thing to put right.
But I didn’t. Noah wandered back in, climbed into my lap, and rested his head on my shoulder.
“Let me get him settled and I’ll be back.”
“Of course. Night, little man.”
“Night night,” Noah said, his voice soft and sleepy.
By the time I helped him brush his teeth and washed his face off, he was ready to pass out. I carried him to his bed and settled him in, wondering how long I’d be able to do that after my back protested the movement. I kissed his forehead, and whispered “I love you forever.”
I returned to Ford in the kitchen, where he gave a quick, shy smile, then started packing up his toolbox. There was a tension in the air, the kind that hovered just on the edge of something more. I didn’t want him to leave—not yet, not with the memory of his hands working in my kitchen and his laugh still echoing off the tile.
“You want coffee? I think I have decaf. Or, I don’t know, there’s still some wine from the other night?”
Ford smiled, and for a moment, all the edges around him softened.
“You know, I’d love a glass of wine.”
I reached into the fridge, found the half-empty bottle of Pinot Noir, and two mismatched wine glasses. “You want to sit for a minute?” I asked, only stumbling a little on the words. “Noah’s out for the count, and it’s not every day I have company that isn’t plastic and made by Fisher-Price.”
Ford’s smile widened, and he nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
We settled onto the couch, leaving a solid foot of space between us, which felt both deliberate and still impossibly close. The only light came from the streetlights out the window and a string of LED palm tree lights I’d left up since summer. It was warm, intimate, a little bit ridiculous.
He leaned back, balancing the wine glass on his thigh. “This is a nice place.”
I snorted. “You mean the peeling linoleum and secondhand furniture? I know it’s not what you’re used to.”
He tilted his head, looking around like he was memorizing every inch. “Feels lived in. Cozy. A real home. Not a lot of places like that anymore.”
I sipped my wine, surprised by how fast my nerves settled. “You probably have a mansion back in California.”
He shook his head, and for a moment, something sad flickered across his face. “No mansion.”
I rolled my eyes and he laughed.
“I’m serious. Don’t get me wrong, I lived nicely and had plenty of space, but it was still just an overpriced loft above a pizza place in a trendy neighborhood. Smelled like cheese and garlic whenever I opened my windows.”
I laughed, picturing Ford—this broad-shouldered, tattooed cowboy—walking around a hipster apartment with big windows and open spaces. Probably nothing like the house at Chickadee Ranch he was staying in now.
He finished his glass in a single pull, then leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You know, once, I set off the fire alarm at the office during a meeting with a bunch of investors.”
“Seriously?” I set my glass down, suddenly very interested.
He nodded, grinning. “Was trying to impress them with our new hardware, which was basically a souped-up space heater that could also run code. Someone forgot to attach the cooling fan. It overheated and, boom, every single alarm in the building went off. Half the people ran out screaming. The other half just started live-tweeting it. I spent the next week apologizing and replacing batteries in smoke detectors.”
I tried to hold in the laugh, but it exploded out of me, loud enough to make Noah stir in the other room. I slapped a hand over my mouth, then shook my head. “You seem so . . . capable. It’s nice to know you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.”
He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, but the pride in his eyes gave him away. “I’ve got more stories like that.”
