Free Finding Home by Irene Hannon

them.
    And unless she was way off base, he felt it, too.
    But Scott seemed reluctant to acknowledge it. And that was for the best. She had enough to deal with already. She didn’t need to add the stress of a new relationship—or the guilt. How could she be having these feelings when she was barely past the traditional one-year mourning period?
    It was best to just walk away with a thank-you.
    Even if her heart said otherwise.

Chapter Five
    S cott paused outside the door to Gram’s room, adjusted one of the pink carnations in the vase of flowers he’d picked up en route to Seaside Gardens, then stepped inside.
    For one fleeting instant her eyes brightened. Then she gave him a stern look. “Why are you wasting your money on flowers for an old woman?”
    “Brightening someone’s day is never a waste of money.” He set the vase on the nightstand and gave her a once-over. “You don’t look much the worse for wear.”
    “You should see the bruise on my leg.”
    “The doctor said it shouldn’t keep you from getting your exercise. Let’s walk.”
    “Forget it.”
    “Gram, you need to walk. If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.”
    “Don’t quote silly sayings to me. I’m too old for intimidation tactics.”
    “Okay.” He sat in the cushioned chair against the wall and crossed an ankle over a knee.
    She gave him a wary look. “Aren’t you going to badger me like you usually do?”
    “Nope. I’m too tired today. I had company last night, remember?”
    “Of course I remember. I have a bad hip, not a bad brain. Did your guests keep you awake?”
    As a matter of fact, they had. Or one of them had. The one with blue eyes, sleeping on the other side of the wall. All through the long dark hours, he’d kept picturing her blond hair spilling across the pillow, the way it had looked when he’d glimpsed her before he and Jarrod had parted for the night. He doubted he’d clocked more than three hours of shut-eye.
    “My guests were fine. I just didn’t sleep well.”
    “So tell me what happened. You were very cryptic on the phone.”
    He gave her the short version, sticking to the basics, hoping she wouldn’t try to read too much between the lines, as she often did.
    No such luck. Her eyes grew more and more animated as he talked.
    “This widow is the same woman you met a week ago, with the trespassing son? Is she pretty?”
    “She’s attractive.” He did his best to maintain an impassive expression as he delivered that understatement.
    “How old is she?”
    “I didn’t ask.”
    “No, of course not. That would be rude, and I raised you to be polite. Let’s see, if she has an eleven-year-old, she’s probably about mid-thirties. That’s a perfect age.”
    For you.
    Gram didn’t say that, but he could read between the lines, too.
    When he didn’t respond, she adjusted the blanket and laced her fingers on top. “Is she nice?”
    “We had a pleasant conversation.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”
    “There’s nothing more to tell.”
    “Hmm. You just don’t want me jumping to conclusions, do you?”
    “There aren’t any conclusions to jump to. A very nice-looking man picked her and her son up this morning. It was clear the three of them knew each other well—and liked each other a lot.”
    Gram’s face fell. “Was he her boyfriend?”
    “That’s my assumption. But she introduced him simply as a friend.”
    “Well, there you are.” She jabbed a finger his direction. “I think you’re the one jumping to conclusions.”
    “I don’t think so.” Cindy’s smile had been warm as she’d greeted the man, and Jarrod had launched himself at the guy. It had all been very, very cozy.
    And surprisingly, he’d experienced an odd twinge when he’d opened the door to admit the man. It had almost felt like...jealousy.
    How nuts was that? He’d known Cindy for less than a week. And even if he was interested, she was a woman with a child. All he had to do was