Page 33 of Wishing Hearts

My eyes meet Harrison’s, and he no longer looks nervous. He’s steeled himself.

“Can I go now?” Winnie asks, letting go of my hand and shifting her weight, as if ready to bolt.

“Go ahead,” Harrison answers. Winnie is already halfway to the fort when he adds, “Dinner in ten.”

Tigger’s stump tail wags once before she follows Winnie, and Harrison waves me forward.

“Come on in,” he says, waiting as I slip off my boots. He leads me down the hall and around a corner, into a bright, airy kitchen. “I, uh… Here, let me take the cake.”

I pass him the bag, and Harrison sets it onto the counter. He fiddles with the plastic for a moment, the lines of his back taut.

“Harrison,” I say gently.

He looks back at me.

“I’m fairly certain I already know the answer to this, but you’re not married, right?” I check. Because yes, he told me he wasn’t in a relationship, and I don’t think he lied to me about that. But it’s possible he could be in the process of separating with someone.

Harrison shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay.” I nod, rubbing over my chin. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me you have a kid?”

Honestly, I’m shocked. Why wouldn’t Harrison mention his daughter before inviting me over?

He winces, body language still closed off, and that just won’t do. Letting out a little breath, I approach, and Harrison watches me steadily. When I touch his arm, he turns toward me.

“I can tell you’re expectin’ me to react badly,” I say. “So let’s clear that up first. I’m not pissed. I’m not scared that you’ve got a daughter. But I don’t like bein’ lied to, Harrison.”

He looks down, gently touching my hand. “Shit, Sam. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.”

I think I do. I think he was scared.

And suddenly, him talking about his life being complicated makes a lot more sense.

“That’s all right,” I tell him, running my knuckles over his stubbled jaw. “Although I think we needa have a good long conversation later.”

“Christ,” he says, huffing a little laugh. “I feel like I’m in trouble.”

“I can spank ya, and we’ll call it good.”

“Jesus, Sam,” he says, eyeing the doorway. His cheeks brighten some, and damn, I love the sight.

“How old is Winnie?” I ask, redirecting us to safer ground.

“Ten,” he answers.

Ten. Didn’t he leave Plum Valley ten years ago?

“And her mom?” I ask as evenly as possible.

His eyes meet mine, imploring. “It’s…”

“Complicated?” I guess.

He nods. “She’s not a part of Winnie’s life. She never has been.” Harrison pauses, mouth open like he’s debating how much to say on the matter, when the timer dings. “I need to…” He points to the oven, and I take a step back, giving him space. Harrison puts on oven mitts before grabbing a pan out from the heat. He places it atop the stove. “I hope mac and cheese is okay?”

I cock a little smile. “Considerin’ I’m still a kid at heart, yeah, mac and cheese is definitely okay.”

His lips turn up at that. Finally, a smile.

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