Page 5 of A Valentine's Day Gift
She leaned close, her hands lifting again for a hug before she backed away. “Sorry. I’m a hugger.” She put her hands in the air. “Look out for the strange woman hugging everyone.”
“It’s nice. Have a good weekend.” He lifted the glass container. “Thanks again.”
She beamed a smile that made something in him light up too. “Stairs look great!”
He glanced over his shoulder at the stairs they’d built last week. It wasn’t the main event. The real work was inside. “Thanks. You should see inside.”
She blushed, her gaze falling to his shoulder then his neck then his lips. A sudden awareness of attraction made him stand straighter. He’d only been with one woman, had never even been tempted.
“Have a good weekend,” they said at the same time.
She laughed and rushed back to the house. He quickly got into his truck. Tony appeared a moment later from where he’d been tying something down in the back.
He handed over the container for Tony to hold.
Tony lifted it. “What is it?”
“Chicken parm.”
“For me?”
“For my kids.”And me. She cared enough to cook for me.
He dropped Tony off at the construction office, where his car was parked, and drove home, feeling lighter than he had in years. He walked in the door of his ranch home, set the container a safe distance away on the coffee table, and announced, “I’m home!”
The boys rushed in, hugging his legs and middle, all of them talking over each other in their excitement to see him again. He greeted each of them, hugging them close and ruffling their hair.
“What’s that?” Loretta asked, appearing from the kitchen in her apron and zeroing in on the food container. Her gray hair was in a bun, her figure stout, and her tone authoritative.
He picked up the container. “The woman at the job I’m working made us some chicken parm for the weekend. I’ll just stick it in the freezer.” He headed for the kitchen to put it away.
She intercepted before he could get to the freezer, taking the container from him and opening the lid. She frowned. “A woman cooked for you?”
“She said she wanted to give us a break for the weekend.”
Loretta sniffed. “What break? I do the cooking around here.”
“I know. She was just being nice. I’ll freeze it. Maybe we’ll have it when you want a day off.”
She leaned down and smelled the chicken parm. “It’s terrible.” She pointed at it. “This isn’t even real mozzarella. What is this? American cheese? It’s not even real cheese.” She yanked the garbage can out from under the sink and dumped it in.
He lurched forward and stopped. Too late. Besides, he understood why. She wanted him to honor his wife’s memory, her daughter, not move on to another woman, however innocent their friendship. Guilt sliced at him. He was a grieving widower; he didn’t get to have sunshine and light, didn’t get the comfort only a woman could give. Not to mention Allie was married. You didn’t take comfort from a married woman.
Loretta wiped her hands in an exaggerated gesture of good riddance and set the dish in the sink, pouring water in it to soak. She turned off the faucet and turned to him. “I will teach you how to cook. Real Italian cooking. In this way, the boys will know their mother.”
“They’ve got you,” he said. “Nothing’s better than Nonna’s cooking.”
“You will learn,” she ordered.
He leaned down and kissed her soft cheek before heading for his shower. She meant well, but he didn’t see the point in him cooking. Her real point was, don’t let another woman take Maria’s place. And she was right. He hadn’t even been thinking of Allie that way. Well, maybe for a moment. He’d just been touched deeply that she cared.
He’d honor his wife’s memory. Always.
