Was it really possible that his brother might be able to eventually say more thanno? The implications boggled his mind.
“You’ll figure it out,” she answered after a moment. “I’m sure the autism specialist you’ve hired will be amazing with him.”
“She does come highly recommended. But she’s not you. You’ve got him saying words. That’s amazing!”
“I’m not some kind of miracle worker, Bowie. The words are in there. He just needs a little extra help getting them out. Every child should be able to communicate his or her wants and needs.”
He thought of what she had told him, about the seizures that had been part of her early childhood. Had she struggled to communicate? He wanted to ask, but it seemed presumptuous, so he tried to keep focused on his brother.
“Not many people have cared enough to see past all his behavioral problems.”
“I’m starting to wonder how many of those problems stem from frustration at his inability to communicate effectively.”
Again, did she know that from experience? “You could be right. Whatever the reason, you at least have given me hope. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for everything you’re doing to help him. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“You are paying me an outrageous amount, which is making it possible for me to adopt Gabi. That’s more than enough.”
“You won’t persuade me the only reason you’re working with Milo is because I’m paying you. It’s much more than that. Helping children is in your nature or you wouldn’t have become a teacher—and a wonderful one, judging by what I’ve seen and the reaction of that girl in the store the other day. It’s part of you, as much as your blue eyes and that dimple that occasionally peeks out when you smile a certain way.”
She gaped at him for a long, rather awkward moment while he asked himself what the hell had come over him, why he was waxing almost poetic about her dimple.
Bowie was shocked by the fierce urge to pull her from her chair into his lap so he could point out which dimple he was talking about by pressing his mouth to the exact spot.
Memories of that heated kiss the night before had been playing through his head on an endless loop all day. He wanted to taste her again, the heady sweetness of her mouth, those delicious little breathy sighs.
“That’s a very nice thing to say,” she finally said, her voice a little strangled.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. I’m only pointing out what I’ve seen.”
She didn’t seem to know how to answer him, and they sat quietly for a few moments in a silence that wasn’t at all uncomfortable—until she suddenly slapped her leg, making him jump. “There’s one of those mosquitoes we were talking about earlier.”
Even as she spoke, he felt a similar sting. “One just got me, too. I guess it’s time to go inside. That’s a shame. It’s a lovely evening. You’re right. I need to take advantage of it more often.”
“Next time I’ll bring the bug spray.”
She grabbed the video monitor where they could both see Milo sleeping soundly and they headed into the house.
It was one thing to be alone with Katrina outside in the dark with the vast lake beside them. Their conversation had been easy and comfortable, for the most part. So why did walking inside to his kitchen heighten the intimacy between them?
Without warning, he felt awkward suddenly, tongue-tied and unsure, and could feel his shoulders tighten with tension.
The attraction that simmered between them didn’t help matters.
What should he say to her? Should he bid her good-night? Ask her if she would like a glass of wine? He was suddenly aware, as he hadn’t been before, that she would be sleeping here in his house, just a few steps away from him.
She spoke before he had a chance to find the right words. “It’s been a long day and tomorrow will likely be more of the same. I should turn in, if I hope to have any chance of keeping up with Milo.”
He tried not to let his regret show on his features. “I know you’ve only been staying here less than twenty-four hours, but are you comfortable here? Do you have everything you need?”
“I can’t imagine what that might be. The house is lovely and my bedroom is bigger than most multifamily houses in the village where I’ve been living the last few months.”
“If you don’t like the sheets or the towels are too scratchy or whatever, just say the word and I can have Mrs. Nielson take care of it.”
“Everything seems fine. Don’t worry.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m a little new at this. Until the last few weeks when I had to hire a nanny for Milo, I had never lived with a woman who wasn’t related to me.”
As an adult, anyway. His childhood was another story. Stella was always picking up a roommate here or there, when she wasn’t moving them into another “family.”