the first chapter, Felicity was sound asleep.
Keely spent the rest of the night on the phone clearing her calendar and ensuring that her managers were okay running the restaurant a few more days without her. Then she texted her brother and asked him to check in periodically during the afternoon and evening shifts. With his ski shop, the Slippery Slope, next door to the restaurant, it shouldn’t be a problem.
The next morning, Keely woke feeling better about her role as a surrogate mother to her cousin’s daughter. Maybe, just maybe, she’d get it right with Felicity.
Please, Lord, let it be so.
* * *
Just after sunrise, the child herself came into the kitchen when Keely was sipping her first cup of coffee for the day.
“Hey there.” She set her steaming mug on the counter. “I was just about to run upstairs and check on you.”
Rubbing at her eyes, Felicity smiled around a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m hungry.”
Which answered Keely’s next question. Obviously, the child was feeling better this morning. “How do pancakes sound?”
“Yummy.”
While Keely mixed up the batter, she and Felicity discussed their favorite foods, which led to the popular chocolate-versus-vanilla debate. Chocolate won, of course.
She made a mental note to stop by her best friend’s brand-new chocolate shop with Felicity in tow. If they went in one afternoon this week, perhaps her cousin could meet Olivia’s twin daughters, Megan and Molly, who were Felicity’s same age and attended Village Green Elementary. It was an excellent way to help the child make new friends in a safe, comfortable environment.
By the time Keely set a full plate in front of her, she knew she’d made the right decision to keep Felicity home for the day.
She was just about to dig into her own stack of pancakes when a knock sounded on the back door.
Thinking she knew exactly who was standing outside her house, Keely chewed on her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face Ethan again, not before she’d consumed at least two more cups of coffee. The animosity between them she could handle. It was familiar, comfortable, but this sudden getting along, even if only for a child’s sake? Well, that confused and intimidated her.
Another knock came, louder and more insistent.
“Aren’t you going to see who it is?”
The question spurred Keely into action. “Be right back.”
She felt a catch in her throat when she opened the door to a very different man than the one she’d interacted with last night. He’d ditched the casual T-shirt, jeans and—sadly—the scruff. He now wore a pair of dark blue dress pants and a crisp white button-down. He was also rocking a beat-up leather jacket and aviator sunglasses.
Keely sucked in a breath, wondering why her pulse sped up whenever the man came within five feet of her.
Not much got to her. In truth, very little got to her. But a clean-shaven Ethan Scott decked out in professional attire and really cool shades?
Oh yeah, that got to her.
* * *
Ethan removed his sunglasses, only to realize his mistake the moment his unhindered gaze connected with Keely’s. He should have called instead of coming over to check on Flicka in person. Too late to change his mind now. He was tethered to the spot by a pair of sea-green eyes.
Why had he never noticed how long and full Keely’s lashes were? How had he missed the flawlessness of her complexion?
He tried to look away. He really tried. But then the doctor in him took over and he noted the tiny lines of stress around her mouth, the purple smudges beneath her eyes.
She’d had a rough night.
“Is Flicka still experiencing stomach pains?”
“No, she’s fine. She’s—”
“Dr. Ethan, Dr. Ethan, you’re here!”
Charmed by the enthusiastic greeting, he peered around Keely and smiled at the girl. She was smaller than he’d calculated, skinnier, too, but utterly adorable as she frantically waved a hand over her head.
“Hey, Flicka.”
He’d barely shifted around Keely when the little girl launched herself at him. He caught her and held her close for one beat, two, then slowly set her back on her feet and studied her more closely. “Looks like someone’s feeling better.”
“I am.” She bounced from one foot to the other. “My tummy doesn’t hurt at all, not even a little bit. Are you here for breakfast? Keely made pancakes and they’re really, really good.”
As he sorted through the rapid-fire speech, Ethan’s mind hooked on one word. Pancakes. His favorite. He shot a questioning glance in Keely’s direction. “Is there enough for me?”
“Sure, why not?” Face as grim as her tone, she headed toward the kitchen without another word.
Hardly a warm invitation. But there was one thing Ethan had learned since Keely moved back to town and took over her family’s restaurant: She’d inherited her mother’s gift in the kitchen. He’d take whatever she was serving, with whatever prickly attitude she adopted. Her cooking was that good.
Flicka took his hand and dragged him deeper into the house. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again, ever, at least not for a few more days.”
He chuckled. “I’m your neighbor. Our paths will cross often, maybe every day.”
Keely made a soft sound of protest in her throat, barely audible, but Ethan caught it. “Got a problem with that?”
Her pause told its own story. But then she lifted a careless shoulder that didn’t ring true with her tight expression.
“Not at all.” She blessed him with a sugary sweet smile. “I enjoy your company, Dr. Scott.”
They both knew that wasn’t true, but Ethan decided to be an optimist this morning. Maybe he and Keely really could set aside their differences and become friends. Neighbors were supposed to be friendly, weren’t they? Wasn’t that the same as being friends?
Flicka carried the conversation while Ethan dug into a large stack of fluffy pancakes. He hadn’t shared breakfast with a single mother and her daughter in nearly two years.
Technically, he wasn’t doing so now. Flicka wasn’t Keely’s child. Still, he had to focus on his food, and the girl’s excited chatter, rather than the unease he felt. The cozy setting felt too familiar, a taste of the life he’d had and then lost so abruptly. Out of sheer survival, he shut his mind to everything but the plate of food in front of him.
Holding painful memories at bay was hard work. By the time he finished his pancakes he was exhausted. He needed to vacate the premises stat. Unfortunately, he’d only dealt with one of the reasons he’d made the short journey across
