Family Wanted (Willow's Haven Book 1) by Renee Andrews Read Free Book Online

caring, would naturally have a husband. His attention moved to the bare ring finger on her left hand.
    She followed where he stared and said, “My ex-husband, I should say. Our divorce was final six months ago. He tried for ten years to make me into what he wanted, and I let him—” she lifted slender shoulders “—but then he decided that wasn’t enough.” Her green eyes studied him as she added, “But it’s okay. I’m happy now, getting a chance to start over. He started over, too.”
    “He’s a fool.”
    Her soft laugh broke the tension. She straightened in her chair, gathered her hair and draped it over her right shoulder. “Thank you for that, but you’d probably like him if you met him. Most people do. He’s a fairly popular guy, especially in his social circles.”
    Titus hardly heard her statement. His focus had fallen on her hands, maneuvering the long auburn waves that now curled past her shoulder. He wondered if her hair was as soft, as silky, as it appeared. Even now, still damp from her time in the pool, the red-brown ringlets caused him to wonder how they would feel in his hands, against his cheek or brushing against his lips.
    And he again reminded himself that he had no business thinking about her that way, and that he didn’t want to think of any woman that way—for a long, long time.
    Her cheeks, he now noticed, had started to redden, and Titus realized with sudden clarity that he’d been caught staring and that he had no idea what she’d said. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t listening.”
    She laughed again, and once more, he was drawn to the lyrical sound. “It doesn’t matter. But you wanted to ask me something? About Savannah?”
    Titus instinctively glanced toward the barn and saw his daughter leaning over the fence rail to timidly touch Brownie’s nose. He got a grip on his infatuation with Isabella and refocused on the reason he’d asked her to talk. “I’m having a difficult time deciding what I can do to help her. I can’t tell you how many articles and blogs I’ve read about telling her that her mom was dead, but none of them seemed right. So I kept putting it off until she finally asked me why I was so sad.” He frowned. “I botched that one.”
    She leaned forward, reached a hand across the table and placed it on top of his. “Titus, I thought it was perfect that you waited. And her question gave you the opportunity not only to answer her, but to also see how Nan’s death affected you.”
    For some reason, it felt odd hearing Isabella say Nan’s name, but the touch of her hand comforted him to his very soul. He looked at her petite fingers and at the contrast of her creamy skin to his tan. Pale pink polish covered each nail and reminded him of another thing he’d forgotten.
    “Savannah asked me to buy her fingernail polish,” he said. “Probably three weeks ago.”
    “I have plenty of polish. I’ll bring some tomorrow, and I’ll paint her nails in the morning when I fix her hair.”
    “That’d be great,” he said, still captured by the feel of her skin against his. Her thoughtfulness was never ending, as was her compassion for Savannah. And he believed she truly understood what Savannah was going through now, maybe even more than Titus. So he decided to ask her about what was bothering him most.
    “The guy from the hospital who called last week to tell me about Nan...” he started. “He said that he found my name and number in some things she’d left behind, and that he would be boxing those up and mailing them to me soon. Of course, he thought I was her brother because apparently she’d given the hospital the impression that she was single.” He didn’t want to spend any time analyzing that with Isabella. “But maybe there are some keepsakes in there that she’d want her daughter—our daughter—to have.”
    “Are you wondering whether you should give them to Savannah now or wait until she’s older?”
    Titus shook his head. “No.