Page 43 of Recklessly Rogue

“Man, smelling these baking has been killing me,” Charles tells me.

I grin at him. That is areallygood candle. “I know. Thanks for waiting without complainingat all.”

He laughs. “I’m sorry.”

I pat him on the shoulder. He seems to be having a good day but his memory decline makes me so sad. Some days he doesn’t remember a funny occurrence from the week before or one of the kids’ names which bothers him and hurts the little one’s feelings. The kids are all patient and kind and we’ve explained that Charles can’t help it and it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. It’s still hard sometimes.

Yes, I worry about leaving him too.

“I know I say it all the time,” Will tells me as I set a cinnamon roll on the plate that held bacon just a few minutes ago. “But these are better than Mandy’s. I’ll deny it if you ever tell her though.”

He does say that all the time. And I’ve already told Mandy and she laughed and rolled her eyes. “They are the best cinnamon rolls in town,” I tell him with a nod.

“These look amazing, sweetheart,” Will calls to April.

She gives him a big grin.

Henry comes back into the room through the wide doorway that leads from the backroom Dan converted into a playroom eighteen months ago. He had plenty of volunteer help. Will was in construction before he retired, Ben had sold insurance but had done plenty of home improvement projects over the years. Even Charles was very good with a paintbrush.

The women who come in every morning after their three-mile walk contributed ideas for color schemes, more hands for painting, and had gathered so many books, gently used toys, and colorful cushions that we’d needed to build additional shelves and storage units.

The room has big windows that look out onto an open field that has never been built up. Dan owns that land as well. I’ll have to ask him if Henry got that acre or so of grass and weeds with his million dollars.

Dan and his buddy, Paul, who had originally built the bar, had used the room for an office and extra storage. But it’s been a long time since Dan sat at a desk for any length of time and he’s not the type of guy to hole up in a back room alone. So I suggested he stick a tiny desk in the storeroom behind the bar and that he turn that big back room into a room for a few kids. When I mentioned that April would be able to work more shifts and longer hours if Elliot could come to work with her, Dan had easily agreed.

Now the adults take turns spending an hour or so in the room with the kids, reading, playing, doing crafts or music—depending on the adult and their particular interests and skill level—or supervising snacks or naps. Yes, Charles and Will thumb wrestle over nap time. And take a nap on the sofa back there while the kids sleep.

Mandy donated that sofa as soon as she found out about the kids’ room and nap time.

Henry locates me immediately across the bar and strides toward me.

“Come with me,” Henry says as soon as he’s close enough for me to hear his low, gruff command.

“I’m—” I look around, trying to come up with an excuse not to obey, only to find that with the cinnamon rolls finally here, everyone has finally settled into their morning routine.

It’s not only the kids in the back room who have regular activities here. The adults spend their time in various ways. There’s a three-hour block of crazy game shows on television, there’s chatting, gossiping, and arguing that must be done, and crossword puzzles and a gigantic jigsaw puzzle that must be worked.

I sigh, then look up at Henry. He has a strange expression on his face. He doesn’t exactly look happy, but he’s not angry. He looks a little…befuddled.

I love that word. I also love that look on Henry Dean.

That is definitely a new look, and a new feeling I’m sure, for this man. He is always in complete control, in charge. People listen to him without question.

But Big Dick’s bar in tiny little Emerald, Ohio, full of retirees and preschool kids, bacon and cinnamon rolls, cappuccinos and jigsaw puzzles, has him a little flummoxed.

Yeah, I definitely like that word for him too.

I try to follow him, but he falls in next to me, his big hot hand settling on my lower back.

Dammit. How can even that simple touch make me feel warmer?

I slept like crap last night. I’d known I would, but it was even worse than expected. Knowing he was right on the other side of the wall, in my bed, I could not get the images of him out of my mind. I wanted so badly to tiptoe into the room, slide between the sheets next to him and say fuck it. Yes, it would make it harder to get over him. But I’m not so sure that getting over him is in the cards anyway.

He guides me toward the swinging door into the kitchen.

April is behind the bar, now making fruit smoothies. The four ladies who walk together every morning, always stop in for smoothies and to “catch their breaths”—ie, catch up on the gossip and give their friend Maggie a chance to flirt with Dan.

“You okay for a minute?” I ask April.

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