and turned his truck around.
He told himself that she looked like the kind of woman who might know a thing or two about potty-training.
Chapter Three
“Oh,” Mac said, through the screen. “It’s you. Auntie Kathy, Colonel Klink is here. And he brought Mr. Stinky Pants with him. Is Mr. Stinky Pants alive?”
“Yeah, he’s just sleeping.” Evan could feel his son’s warm breath against his shoulder.
“Hi,” Evan said, when she appeared at the door. Did she look pleased to see him? Even after that introduction?
“I’m sorry,” she said, tossing an annoyed look back at Mac. She had a tea towel over her shoulder, and her hair was falling out of her ponytail and curling around her face. “Where does he come up with this stuff?”
The smells coming out that door were even more heavenly than before.
“Hogan’s Heroes,” Evan guessed. “Late night.” He knew all about late nights.
“Is this your son?” A good sign. Not, What are you doing back here?
“Jesse,” he said, “otherwise known as Mr. Stinky Pants.”
She smiled and came out the door and looked at Jesse’s sleeping face. She reached out and touched a blond curl.
“He’s gorgeous,” she said, her voice rich with tenderness, “He’s just like a little angel.”
A man could not be jealous of his three-year-old son. It was not permissible. Especially when he was not here about romance, heaven forbid. Simply being neighborly. Or a knight, however one wanted to look at it. Still, a man would probably go a long way to have a woman look at him with that kind of bone-melting sweetness.
“I was thinking if you had a place I could lay him down, I’d haul that stuff in from the trailer for you.”
“Oh,” she said, and blushed.
Who would think a woman that age could blush? He tried to figure out her age. Older than him. Mid-thirties, maybe. One of those women who aged with uncommon grace, her body full and ripe, her face kind, her dark eyes steady and serene. Why was it women thought they needed to be forever young when he found this so appealing?
Women liked him. That had been a fact of his life for as long as he could remember. But it always seemed to be a certain kind that was attracted to him—young, full of breathless giggles and chatter, dyed blond hair and shirts that showed off their belly buttons. Women who didn’t blush, and who seemed to like the word cool best out of the entire English language, who wore red, red lipstick and chewed gum. An evening with a woman like that left him feeling so empty and exhausted he’d pretty much given up on it. Especially now that Jesse was home.
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