In His Eyes

Caitlin drew back. “I know.”

Ellene chuckled at her blunt retort.

The little girl touched the edge of the keyboard. “We have computers at my school.”

“Computers are the backbone of communication.”

Caitlin’s face screwed into a disbelieving look. “Computers don’t have backbone. People do.”

Ellene laughed and glanced at Connor who sent her a wry smile. “I mean, it’s very important in business. We can talk with people all over the world.”

Caitlin lifted her eyebrows. “Talk?”

“Not talk, but write to people or read information from other countries.”

“On e-mail,” Caitlin said.

The child’s simple response made Ellene grimace at her lack of experience talking with children.

Caitlin faced Connor. “Daddy, we should get a computer for home, too.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Maybe we should, but Caitlin, right now, you shouldn’t bother Ellene.”

“It’s okay,” But was it? Ellene felt her heartstrings tangling around the little girl. She needed to remain uninvolved before she got hurt again.

Caitlin leaned closer to the monitor. “Do you have games on your computer?”

“A few.” Ellene paused a moment to shoo her away, then thought better of it and hit the minimize button. “This is the desktop. See this right here.” She cringed suspecting Caitlin knew about the desktop.

Caitlin nodded as Ellene clicked an icon. A noise hummed and clicked as a machine came onto the screen while Caitlin giggled.

“What’s that?” the child asked, pressing her finger against the monitor.

“It’s pinball. You’re too young for this game, but adults like it.”

Caitlin leaned closer, watching Ellene shoot the ball. “We don’t have games like that at school.”

The sound pulled Connor from the kitchen area, and he wandered to her side and leaned over, viewing the screen. “I’ve never played computer games.”

“You’re kidding,” Ellene said. “What world do you live in?” Silence hung between them for a moment.

“The world of a single dad.”

Her stomach knotted, getting his message.

“Look,” she said, hoping to ease the uncomfortable moment. “Here are the keys to use the flippers and bumpers, and you use the space bar to shoot the ball.”

Caitlin giggled as Ellene’s ball skittered across the screen, bouncing into a worm hole and rattling against the bumpers. She gave the ball another whack, and it rebounded, sending her score upward.

“My turn!” Connor said, then chuckled at himself. “Could I try?”

She grinned at the childlike way he’d requested a chance to play, and she rose, allowing him to slip into the chair. He tested the keys, getting used to the flippers, before he began his turn. When he shot the first ball, he missed, and it vanished down the chute. No score.

He gave her a silly grin while his knee tapped as he pushed the space key that triggered the ball into the playing field.

Ellene forgot herself, watching him play the game and delighting in Caitlin’s amazement. But, noticing the clock hands, she realized too much time had slipped away. She’d let down her guard and had gotten caught up in Connor’s company. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

She touched Connor’s shoulder, aware of the muscles that rolled beneath her palm. “I need to get going, Connor. I have to break up your fun.”

He halted and dropped his hand from the keyboard. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

Caitlin slipped her arm around his shoulder. “Get us one, daddy,” she pleaded in his ear. “We can play games.”

“It keeps them busy,” Ellene said, seeing the excitement on Caitlin’s face.

Caitlin pressed her palms on Connor’s cheeks and turned his face to hers. “It keeps kids busy, Daddy.”

Ellene hid her grin.

Connor rose, and Ellene slipped back into the chair without comment.

Caitlin continued to watch her as she input the data. Ellene longed to get out of there and finish the job back in the office, but she feared she couldn’t read what she’d scribbled.

The aroma of ground meat drifted around her, and her stomach gnawed silently. She wished he’d let her leave before preparing their meal, but glancing at the time, she realized he had every right to get their dinner ready.

One notation confused her, and she stopped and reread the note. “Connor, we need to double check the porch.” She rose and headed for the doorway.

When she looked back, Connor had lowered the burner on the stove and turned to follow her. They stepped into the icy surroundings. Snowmobiles flew across the frozen channel, drawing her memory back to the large hunks of ice jamming against each other in the water as she crossed Lake St. Clair from the mainland.

She shivered, and Connor drew nearer, his arms rising, then lowering again as if he wanted to put them around her. “It’s too cold to be out here without a coat,” he said.

“It’ll only take a minute.” She hurried to the far side of the enclosure and pointed. “We want to begin the screened porch here.”

“Right.”

She handed him the end of the tape measure and backed up to the far wall. “Sixteen feet for the room’s length, then. I know it’s eleven and a half wide.” She drew in the tape as she returned to him. “What about this window over the sink? What did you decide?”

“You suggested leaving it as a window to pass food out for a picnic, and then you said you could block it with shelving on the inside.” He rubbed his temple as if the action would clear his memory. “I think that was it.”

“Which do you prefer? I like the opening.”

“Me, too, but what I’d really like is to get you inside.” He stepped behind her and grasped her arms, then shifted her around to face the doorway into the house. The heat from his nearness swept up her arms into her chest, and she felt his warm breath against her cheek.

Ellene longed to jerk from his grasp, but the feeling was too pleasant. Fighting her own longing, she eased away with her one-word reminder. “Business.”

Connor’s gaze lowered, and his smile faded. “It’s easy to forget.”

“Well, don’t, or you’ll have to find another contractor to handle this.” She winced. Once again, she could see her father’s face as he reprimanded her for not letting the past go and not handling the job like a professional.