Free Loving Tenderness by Gail Gaymer Martin

in the sofa. Behind them, Ken struggled with an armchair.
    “This baby is big,” Bob said as he and Dave maneuvered it to the bare wall. “Here?” he asked.
    “That looks great,” Hannah said. “I can’t thank you enough.”
    “No problem,” Dave said.
    Ken hefted the chair toward the sofa. “How’s this?”
    Hannah gave him a thumbs-up. “It looks good.”
    He patted the cushion into place and did a full turn, eyeing the room. “Looks like you’re all set.”
    “Yes, thanks.” Hannah dug into her pocket and pulled out some bills. “This isn’t much but I’d like to—”
    Andrew watched the three men lift their hands in protest.
    “No ma’am,” Dave said. “This is our way of doing for others as we would have them do for us.”
    “The Golden Rule,” Bob added. “One day we might ask you to move our furniture.”
    Ken grinned. “You’ve babysat enough for Annie over the last couple of weeks that I owe you a move all by myself.”
    “Thanks to both of you for the use of your trucks,” Andrew added. “We couldn’t have done it without those.”
    “You’re welcome,” Ken and Bob said as the men headed toward the kitchen. Andrew followed, thanking them again. When he saw the outside door close at the bottom of the stairs, he shut the apartment door and returned to the living room.
    “You should probably keep your door locked,” he said, hating to mention his worry. “You don’t want a customer wandering up here.” Or Jack, once he’s free, he thought.
    “I will.” She gestured toward the kitchen counter. “I made some coffee. Would you like a cup?”
    “Sure,” Andrew said, sinking into the chair and observing her as she pulled mugs from the cabinet. She stood on tiptoe to reach the second shelf, and Andrew’s gaze was drawn to her slender form. Short and sweet, he thought with a grin.
    “I’m glad I got some of these things put away yesterday,” Hannah said. “It makes getting settled so much easier.”
    “And you have your car again.” When his comment registered, he realized she wouldn’t need rides anymore. The thought gave him an empty feeling.
    Andrew’s gaze drifted around the small apartment. “Hannah, have you realized there’s no yard here and no place for JJ to play? That’s not good.”
    As the pungent scent of coffee sailed from the maker, Hannah set the mugs on the table. “The other apartment didn’t have a yard, either. I can take him to the park, and I’m saving money on rent—Claire has been so kind— I talked with Christie Hanuman at Loving Care about sending JJ there a couple days a week. Her childcare facility has swings and a nice playground. Then in the fall, he’ll start kindergarten.”
    “I know Christie Hanuman. She’s a member of my church,” Andrew said. But he left thinking of the child’s predicament, which wasn’t his business. He needed to face facts. Hannah had handled life before he’d come along. Why did he think she couldn’t deal with it now?
    Hannah poured coffee into the mugs, then offered him cream and sugar, but he declined and stared into the black liquid. There were so many things he wanted to know about her.
    He opened his mouth, then closed it. A direct question wouldn’t sit well with Hannah. Not now, and he let his mind drift to a new subject. “Are you ready for the new job tomorrow?”
    Hannah concentrated on pouring the milk into her coffee before she answered. “I’m not sure ready is the word, but I am grateful. I used to love making candy, and it was pretty good if I do say so myself. Good candy has to do with temperature and consistency—but it’s been years. Jack didn’t—”
    Andrew tightened his jaw, seeing the look on her face. Jack had destroyed her creativity, her security, her life.
    “I’m grateful for Jenni’s job offer, and I’ll be fine once I get started again.”
    Her expression grew serious with the conversation, but Andrew had gotten stuck on the sentence about Jack that she’d