My Stubborn Heart by Becky Wade Read Free Book Online Page B

said.
    â€œYes, it is.” Matt put down his spoon, trying to pace himself. “Thank you.”
    â€œYou’re welcome.” Mrs. Donovan reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you like it. And I’m glad you’ll be joining us from now on.” Before he could correct her on that, she pushed back her chair and went to set her dish in the sink. “And with that,” she said, “I’m off to bed. Early to bed and early to rise.” She winked at him. “Another reason to learn to cook, Matt. Then, by rights, you shouldn’t have to clean.” She sailed toward the dining room. “Night, Kate.”
    â€œNight, Gran.”
    â€œNight, Matt.”
    He rose to his feet. “Good night.”
    Mrs. Donovan shot him a parting smile and disappeared.
    Kate went back to work on her dessert.
    He lowered to his seat, took a few more bites. What had just happened? Mrs. Donovan had left and now he was alone in the kitchen with Kate, eating together. It felt a bit like a date.
    A date. Just the thought tightened his gut with dread.
    He didn’t like her like that. Mostly what he felt toward Kate was caution. And yet . . . he was here, wasn’t he? He’d admitted to himself earlier that there was something about her that he liked a little.
    He studied her bent head. So what was it? What was it that he liked?
    To look at her, you’d think she’d come from old money. She was understated and sophisticated like that. Except her watch wasn’t Rolex and her diamond earrings, though probably real, were tiny. She was an unusual mixture of other things, too. . . . She was no bigger around than his wrist, yet he’d seen her work all day stripping wallpaper and hauling boxes. She laughed easily, yet he could sense that she’d dealt with sadness. At first he’d guessed that she had an event planner kind of job, but instead she was a social worker who spent her time with struggling kids.
    He admired some of those things about her. But still, none of them was the thing that drew him.
    Since Beth died, he’d been living with a cold ball of grief square in the center of his chest. He took it with him everywhere he went. It clouded every thought he had. It motivated every decision he made. The people in his life couldn’t touch that cold ball. Nothing and no one had. Nothing and no one could.
    Except maybe . . . her.
    He couldn’t explain it, but Kate had the power to thaw some of the coldness inside him. Just barely.
    He didn’t want her to have any effect on him at all. That she did made her dangerous. He was just barely surviving. It was all he could do to simply get through each day, just the way he’d been getting through every awful day since Beth died, by going through the motions. He did the same familiar, necessary things in the same way every day. If he kept everything the same, at least, he trusted that he could make it from morning to night, that he could hold on to his equilibrium. If he stepped away from what he was used to, he might not be able to keep it together.
    She happened to look up and caught him staring. “What? Do I have food on my face?” Tentatively, she used a hand to shield her mouth.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you sure? Please tell me, because I’ll be mortified if I look in the mirror later and see blackberries in my teeth.”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œOkay.” She scooted her chair away from the table, leaned back in it. “I’m stuffed. I can’t eat another bite.”
    He ate his last spoonful.
    She regarded him with a sympathetic half smile. “Gran’s expecting you to eat dinner with us from now on.”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œCan’t you?”
    He didn’t answer.
    She assessed him for a few moments, the ticking of the kitchen clock loud in the silence, then rose and began stacking dishes and