was another moment of vulnerability, a chink in her armor. He suspected she rarely let anyone see her with her guard down.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you are a mess at all. When you walked in, it made me wish I was wearing something a little less...rock-concert-leftover, just so I could impress you. Like a suit or something.” Damn, where had that come from? When was the last time he’d confessed anything like that? Maybe it was because she’d given him a peek inside. Or maybe it was the way Abby carried herself, all poised and confident, that had him feeling like she was, well...a little out of his league. Okay, a lot.
She arched a brow. “A suit?”
“I do own one, contrary to what my current attire suggests. Last time I wore it was at my grandfather’s funeral and I think my mother still has it in a box somewhere. But I was ten, so I’m not so sure it would still fit me.”
She laughed, then pushed on the swinging door. As soon as the three of them entered the kitchen, Jacob scrambled onto one of the stainless steel stools and sat at the counter. He set the picture he’d been working on aside, propped his elbows on the counter and sat up tall. “I’m ready to help, Mommy.”
“That’s great, Jakester. We’re making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” She tossed Dylan a look. The laughter had disappeared from her voice, and she was all business again. “Despite my son’s one-star rating, I can handle those. Really. I’m sure you have other things to do and I hate to put you out. I’ll be fine on my own. Really.”
The teenagers had finished their basketball game and began to file into the building in a hum of conversation and heavy footsteps. As they headed for the couches, they glanced over at the kitchen. “Yo, man, where’s the food?” Matt called out.
“Coming soon,” Dylan said. He turned back to Abby. He got the distinct feeling she was giving him the brush-off. She had, after all, asked for his help, then promptly changed her mind. “I don’t mind helping at all. And, I have the skills. I have, after all, been making my own sandwiches for almost twenty years now. In fact, I even have Expert Sandwich Maker on my résumé.”
“And did you actually get hired somewhere because of that?”
“I think it was my Great Ninja Skills section that impressed the bosses.” He winked at Jacob. “I bet you’re a great ninja, Jake.”
“I am. I scare Mommy all the time cuz I go like this.” He hopped down off the stool, then tiptoed forward, with his hands bent like T. rex arms. “I’m super quiet.”
Abby ruffled his hair. “You’re four, Jake. I don’t think quiet is an adjective for you yet.”
Jake squirmed in his seat, as if proving the point that he was neither stealthy nor quiet. “Did you see my picture I made?”
Abby glanced at the paper. “Very good, Jake. I like your doggy.”
From where Dylan stood, he wasn’t sure how Abby discerned the brown blob on the paper was a dog, but then again, Dylan wasn’t exactly an art critic. Nor could he draw worth a damn. The pot couldn’t exactly pass judgment on the kettle here.
“You know why I drew it?” Jake bounced up and down on his knees. “Cuz I love dogs.”
Abby smiled. “I know. If there’s one thing you talk about more than dinosaurs, my little non-ninja, it’s dogs.”
Jake studied his drawing, his lips thinned in concentration. “Can we get a puppy, Mommy? Mrs. Reynolds next door said her dog had puppies and I can has one if I want.”
“It’s have, and no, we’re not getting a puppy right now. I have my hands full with you guys.” She waved toward the sink. “Go wash your hands, buddy, then sit down again and you can lay out the bread. I’ll put on the peanut butter and jelly.”
“Or, I can do the peanut butter and you can do the jelly,” Dylan said. Somehow, they had ended up inches apart. He could catch the floral notes of her perfume, see the lower lashes that dusted under her eyes. “Assembly-line style.”
Why was he trying so hard? Even though Mavis had the little ones under control, Dylan did need to check on the older kids in the center and keep working on that list of repairs, and making sandwiches wasn’t a job she couldn’t handle.
“I’ve got it.” She handed Jake the loaf of bread, then retrieved the peanut butter from the shelf. “Thanks.”
The thanks was a clear dismissal. She had obviously changed her mind about his help. She was also intelligent and beautiful and light-years out of his league. He should take the hint and leave her be.
Instead, he reached into the fridge for the jelly before she could grab it. “An extra set of hands makes the job go faster,” Dylan said. “I have no doubt you are fully capable of making a couple dozen sandwiches all by yourself. But there are hungry kids out there who don’t care who’s slapping on the peanut butter, just as long as it’s ready yesterday.”
She glanced at the teenagers, who were watching the whole conversation from where they sat. At the same time, Mavis finished the book she was reading, and the little kids scrambled to their feet and dashed to sit at the tables. Mavis waved toward the door, a question in her face, and Abby nodded. “Okay. But only because the kids shouldn’t have to wait.”
It wasn’t exactly her saying she’d been so charmed by his smile that she couldn’t say no, but he’d take it.
Dylan slipped in beside her. Jake handed his mother a piece of bread, Abby slathered peanut butter on it, then Dylan spread jelly across the surface and topped it with a second slice of bread. “Are you always this difficult to help?” he asked.
“I’m not difficult. It’s just...” She handed him the next piece of peanut-buttered bread. “In my experience, it’s better to do things on my own than to count on someone else to help.”
Someone had let this woman down. More than once. Dylan wouldn’t consider himself Mr. Dependable, but he was the kind of guy who kept his word. He made three more sandwiches before he spoke again. “Well, maybe you’ve been counting on the wrong people.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “Or maybe it’s just better to count on myself. No surprises that way.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not.” He slapped the last piece of bread onto the final sandwich, then pulled a knife out of the drawer and cut the stacks in half.
“Diagonal,” Abby said softly. “That’s how my mom did it.”
“Mine, too.”
They shared a glance for a heartbeat, heat filling the space between them, then she spun toward the fridge and filled a tote with juice boxes. A second later, they’d put the snacks onto the sill between the kitchen and the main room. The kids descended like locusts, and before Dylan could blink, every last crumb was gone. Jacob wolfed down half a sandwich, then dashed off with the others to play with a bucket of Legos. That left Dylan and Abby alone in the kitchen.
“Well, I’d say you got a five-star rating on your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” Dylan retrieved the empty tray and put it in the sink.
A grin flickered across her face. “Maybe I should add that to my résumé.”
