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It wouldn’t surprise him if he found a few bruises in the morning. He pushed his hair back. The little froufrou dog ran over to him and put a paw on his muddy boot. The clipped tail wagged so hard its whole body squirmed. “Bumper?”

Anjelica smiled at the wet rat. “I found her just the other day on Bumper Gate Road. I put an ad in the local paper, but no one’s come to claim her.”

Standing in front of him, she moved in for a hug before he realized what she had planned. “Thank you for saving my plant. I do think you’ll do a fine job as a father.”

His jaw clenched. He had never been a touchy hugging kind of guy, but he’d been hugged more times in the few months since he’d moved to Clearwater than he had his entire life. He remained still, not wanting to offend her by pulling away.

Kids liked hugs, too. He remembered wanting to be in his mother’s lap, but she had always been too tired or too busy. He managed to lift an arm and give her a pat on the shoulder, hopefully not too stiff. She shivered in his arms. They were both cold and wet. “You need to go inside and change.”

She backed up and grinned at him as if she’d made a new friend. “Thank you, Officer Kincaid. Um, now that you’re a father, you might think of a less dangerous job?”

He frowned. “I like my job.”

Another flash of lightning. He counted again, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. A golf ball of solid ice landed at his feet. He narrowed his eyes and then looked at the path back to his apartment. The trip back to the garage wasn’t far, but with that last bolt of lightning, he doubted it was wise to run across the yard again. He looked at his watch. It had taken him a couple of hours to go to sleep, but he had been out for seven hours.

“Officer Kincaid—”

“Call me Garrett.”

“Oh!” She grabbed his arm. “Now is as good a time as any to show you the baby equipment.”

She leaned in closer, and the smell of vanilla and earth intrigued his nose. The lyrical sound of her voice tickled his ear. “Promise not to tell my parents I was outside in this weather. My mom would have a fit and Papa would tell me to move back home, again. They wouldn’t like that I’d go that far for a simple shrub.”

He had a feeling there was nothing simple about the shrub.

“Come on.” She turned and opened the screen door.

Garrett followed her and crossed over the well-trodden threshold. In his line of work, he’d been in about every kind of housing, but this was straight out of a children’s picture book. Alice’s rabbit hole had nothing on this girl.

It was everything his apartment wasn’t. The old farmhouse had a huge kitchen. A family of ten could easily sit at the table.

Even though the cabinets were painted white, splashes of color touched everything. More ceramic creatures hung from strings, while others lined the windows and cabinets.

“Sorry about the mess. I made a big batch of tortilla soup earlier tonight to share with my grandparents and a few other people in town. Then an idea struck, and I ended up in my ceramic studio before I cleaned. Have you eaten since lunch? Here, let me get you some.” Without waiting for his reply, she loaded a ceramic bowl with the aromatic soup. Fresh herbs and spices filled the kitchen. His stomach grumbled in anticipation.

She pulled a spoon out of the dishwasher and moved to the table. “Here, sit down and eat. I’ll slice an avocado and heat you up a corn tortilla. What do you want to drink? I have milk, sweet tea and water.”

“Water’s fine.” Before he got the first spoonful of soup to his lips, she had a small plate with avocados and thin corn chips on the table next to him. Another trip and she handed him a warm tortilla and a tall glass of ice water.

“I’ll put some in a container for you to take to the apartment for later.” She set a blue bowl on the counter, then dug around in the cabinets. “I’m the only person that lives here, and I still can’t find a lid.” Pulling out a red one, she held it up and smiled at him. “Found one.” She snapped the red lid onto the blue bowl.

Of course she did. Why start matching now? “Please sit and eat with me.”

With the dog bouncing about her feet, she sat down across from him. She slid the plastic bowl his way.

“Thanks.” He dunked the tortilla into the warm soup. He didn’t want to waste time with forming more words. He had fallen in love. He closed his eyes and savored the rich flavors on his tongue.

“I’m the one that’s grateful. Thank you for braving the storm and helping me cover Esperanza.”

He opened his eyes. He really shouldn’t have been surprised by anything she said. “You name your plants?”

She smiled again, but this time it was a little tighter, not as bright. “It’s an Esperanza plant, the same name as my daughter. I planted it as a memorial for her.”

Great going, Garrett. “Well, it’s a beautiful plant. And a beautiful name. It means hope, right?” He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Looks like we covered it in time.”

Maybe he should leave...instead of staring at her like an idiot. Obviously, she no longer had her daughter. The baby stuff she said she had, it must have been...another reminder that children couldn’t always be protected from bad things. And now he was responsible for two who already had a tragic backstory. He took a deep breath and set the spoon down, his appetite gone. “Thanks for the soup.”

“I’m glad I had it here for you. Are you finished?”

A nod was all he managed. She took everything to the sink. The lights flickered as the thunder rolled through the house. She tilted her head toward the ceiling. “Doesn’t sound like it’s letting up.” The lights wavered again. “Follow me—I’ll show you the baby stuff I have ready for you and Pilar.” She walked through an archway that took them into a living room. Several mix-and-match sofas and chairs made for a welcoming room. He was surprised by the white sofa. The red floral sofa he expected, but the white one? How did she keep it clean? He didn’t know anyone who actually dared to have white furniture. Red, white and blue pillows and blankets were everywhere. Yellow flowers were tucked into odd containers all over the room. It looked well lived-in, the site of years of family events and memories.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I appreciate you playing the sax on the balcony. When I’m working in the studio, I open my door to listen. You should come to church with me one Sunday. Pastor John is really into music. Did you ever play in a band?”

He nodded and followed her around the furniture that looked as if they’d been salvaged from an old barn. “All through school, and when I joined the Marines, I played for them, too.”

“Wow.” She stopped in front of a floor-to-ceiling bookcase and looked up at him, making him feel taller than his six-one. “I would have taken you for a football player, you know, the warrior type. I don’t think of soldiers as musicians. Do you play any other instruments?” She tilted her head as if trying to recalibrate what she knew about him.