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He stood there, staggered by her statement. This woman was a power to behold. A force unknown to man. A true warrior. If only he could adopt her self-confidence when it came to his parents’ view of him. But it wasn’t like a switch. He couldn’t just shut it off.
He cut the old women a look that could kill. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. That goddess”—he pointed at the door—“is a hundred times the person you’ll ever be.”
Their shocked faces turned to anger as he stormed out, ignoring their snide responses.
The car ride back to the inn was quiet after they got ice cream. Jasmine stared out the window as Zoey played with the doll she’d brought. He didn’t want to end the day like this. But he wanted to give her space if she needed it.
He parked at the inn and opened Jasmine’s door and then Zoey’s.
“Why do you always open Mommy’s door? She’s a big girl. She can do it,” Zoey said.
He chuckled. “Well, sweetheart. When you go out with a man, he’s supposed to open the door for the lady. And he’s the one who should pay.”
“Unless she wants to pay,” Jasmine argued.
He held his hands up. “He should make sure the woman he is with is taken care of, whatever that looks like for them.”
Jasmine’s expression softened. “I’d better get her in for her bath. It’s almost bedtime.”
“Bath!” Zoey yelled, running towards the inn.
Jasmine and Atlas followed.
When they reached her bedroom door, she opened it while he hung back leaning on his. Zoey disappeared into the room.
“Get your clothes off and in the hamper, and I’ll be in to run you a bath in a minute,” Jasmine directed. She spun around to the sound of little footsteps retreating and tucked her hands in her shorts pockets. “Thank you for dinner. And this afternoon. And . . . before. I really appreciate everything you did. And I understand it if you need some space from me now.”
He frowned. What? “I don’t—”
“Mommy!” Zoey called.
“Just a second,” she answered, backing into her bedroom.
“I don’t want—”
“Mommy! I’m cold,” Zoey persisted.
She sighed. “I have to go take care of her.”
He nodded.
“Goodnight,” she said before she closed the door.
He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. Frustration and unease slithered around him. He unlocked his bedroom door and walked inside. He needed a shower himself.
* * *
An hour later, he was clean and had changed into a pair of sweatpants. He was too hot to bother with a shirt. There was no way he was going to sleep until he and Jasmine cleared this up. He slipped out of his room and went downstairs before opening the door to the room that was always under construction.
She’d cleaned up everything except a few cans and brushes with a drop cloth. Jasmine had painted the second coat of trim around the windows. He busied himself, opening the can and stirring the paint like he’d seen her do. He dipped one of the smaller brushes he’d used last time into the bucket and wiped the excess on the side. He stroked the brush across the wood panel, getting lost in the hypnotic work.
He’d finished all three windows in the room before the door creaked open and Jasmine walked in. Lines appeared between her brows as she studied him. She’d changed into another faded T-shirt and sleep shorts.
“What are you doing in here?” Her lips curved into a small smile.
“Finishing up for you,” he said, setting the paintbrush down. He closed the lid to the paint bucket.
“Thank you. You do so much for me. And I owe you . . . everything.”
