Page 122 of Bound To Be Mine

“Have you eaten today?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She thought about it. “I had coffee this morning. And I think I ate half a granola bar around noon.”

“That’s what I thought.” I headed to her kitchen, already opening the fridge to see what she had. “You can’t run on empty like that.”

“I was busy.”

“I know you were.” I pulled out sandwich ingredients, some turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes. Her bread was fresh, which meant she’d actually been to the grocery store recently. Progress. “But you still need to eat.”

I heard her get up from the couch and pad into the kitchen. She hopped up onto the counter, watching me work. “You know, when I pictured you coming to visit, I didn’t imagine you making me sandwiches at one in the morning,” she said.

“What did you picture?”

“I don’t know. Something more romantic. Maybe dinner at a nice restaurant. A moonlit walk on the beach.”

“We can do all that tomorrow.” I sliced tomatoes, impressed she actually had fresh vegetables in her fridge. “Tonight, you need food and sleep. In that order.”

“So bossy.”

“Someone has to take care of you.”

She smiled at that, and I felt something warm settle in my chest. This was what I wanted. Taking care of her. Being here when she needed me. Making sure she ate actual meals instead of surviving on coffee and granola bars.

I assembled two sandwiches—one for her, one for me.

“Here.” I handed her the plate. “Eat.”

She took a bite and moaned. Actually moaned. “Oh my God. Why does this taste so good?”

“Because you’re starving.”

“No, it’s more than that.” She took another bite. “You put something on this. What is it?”

“Just a little mayo, mustard, and a touch of olive oil. Plus I seasoned the tomatoes with salt and pepper.”

“You seasoned the tomatoes.”

“It makes a difference.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Of course you did. Mr. Attention to Detail strikes again.”

“I think any sandwich that’s made for you tastes better than if you made it yourself.”

“I’ll remember that for tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I leaned against the counter opposite her, watching her devour the sandwich like she hadn’t eaten in days. Which, given her schedule, she probably hadn’t. Not properly, anyway. She needed someone to take care of her. I wanted to be that someone. But she was an independent woman. I wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate me wanting to take care of her.

“I put Bucky to sleep the other night,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “You did?”

“Adrian and Elizabeth were exhausted. Buck was fussing. Elizabeth pushed him into my arms and I think I scared him to sleep. He’d been crying and then next thing I knew, he was out.”

“Briggs Blackwell, Super Uncle.” She grinned. “Who would have thought?”

“Certainly not me.” I grabbed a chip from my plate. “But it was nice. Holding him. Feeling him relax against my chest. I never really thought about kids before, but he’s changing my mind.”

“Yeah?”