Page 33 of Charmed
“No. There’s no more need to thank me for that than there is to thank me for wanting you. It’s just the way it is. Sometimes I think about Jessie growing up. It gives me some bad moments. And I know that if there was any man who pushed or pressured her into doing what she wasn’t ready to do I’d just have to kill him.” He sipped, and grinned. “And, of course, if she thinks she’s going to be ready to do anything of the kind before she’s, say, forty, I’ll just lock her in her room until the feeling passes.”
It made her laugh, and she realized as he stood there, with his back to the cluttered, splattered stove, a dishcloth hanging from the waist of his slacks, that she was very, very close to falling in love with him.
Once she had, she would be ready. And nothing would make the feeling pass.
“Spoken like a true paranoid father.”
“Paranoia and fatherhood are synonymous. Take my word for it. Wait until Nash has those twins. He’ll start thinking about health insurance and dental hygiene. A sneeze in the middle of the night will send him into a panic.”
“Morgana will keep him level. A paranoid father only needs a sensible mother to …” Her words trailed off as she cursed herself. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It’s easier when people don’t feel they have to tiptoe around it. Alice has been gone for four years. Wounds heal, especially if you have good memories.” There was a thud from the next room, and the sound of racing feet. “And a six-year-old who keeps you on your toes.”
At that moment, Jessie ran in and threw herself at Ana.
“You came! I thought you’d never get here.”
“Of course I came. I never turn down a dinner invitation from my favorite neighbors.”
As Boone watched them, he realized his headache had vanished. Odd, he thought as he switched off the stove and prepared to serve dinner. He’d never gotten around to taking an aspirin.
***
It wasn’t what he would call a quiet, romantic dinner. He had lit candles and clipped flowers in the garden he’d inherited when he’d bought the house. They had the meal in the dining alcove, with its wide, curved window, with music from the sea and birdsong. A perfect setting for romance.
But there were no murmured secrets or whispered promises. Instead, there was laughter and a child’s bubbling voice. The talk was not about what the candlelight did to her skin, or how it deepened the pure gray of her eyes. It centered on first grade, on what Daisy had done that day and on the fairy tale still brewing in Boone’s mind.
When dinner was over, and Ana had listened to Jessie’s exploits at school, along with those of Jessie’s new and very best friend, Lydia, she announced that she and the child were assuming kitchen duty.
“No, I’ll take care of it later.” He was very comfortable in the sunset-washed dining alcove, and he remembered too vividly the mess he’d left behind in the kitchen. “Dirty dishes don’t go anywhere.”
“You cooked.” Ana was already rising to stack the dishes. “When my father cooks, my mother washes up. And vice versa. Donovan rules. Besides, the kitchen’s a good place for girl talk, isn’t it, Jessie?”
Jessie didn’t have any idea, but she was instantly intrigued by the notion. “I can help. I hardly ever break any dishes.”
“And men aren’t allowed in the kitchen during girl talk.” She leaned conspiratorially toward Jessie. “Because they just get in the way.” She sent Boone an arch look. “I think you and Daisy could use a walk on the beach.”
“I don’t …” A walk on the beach. Alone. With no kitchen duty. “Really?”
“Really. Take your time. Jessie, when I was in town the other day, I saw the cutest dress. It was blue, just the color of your eyes, and had a big satin bow.” Ana stopped, a pile of dishes in her hands, and stared at Boone. “Still here?”
“Just leaving.”
As he walked out in the deepening twilight with Daisy romping around him, he could hear the light music of female laughter coming through his windows.
“Daddy said you were born in a castle,” Jessie said as she helped Ana load the dishwasher.
“That’s right. In Ireland.”
“A for-real castle?”
“A real castle, near the sea. It has towers and turrets, secret passageways, and a drawbridge.”
“Just like in Daddy’s books.”
“Very much like. It’s a magic palace.” Ana listened to the sound of water as she rinsed dishes and thought of the squabbles and laughing voices in that huge kitchen, with a fire going in the hearth and the good, yeasty smell of fresh bread perfuming the air. “My father and his brothers were born there, and his father, and his, and further back than I can say.”
“If I were born in a castle, I would always live there.” Jessie stood close to Ana while they worked, enjoying without knowing why, the scent of woman, and the lighter timbre of a female voice. “Why did you move away?”
