I sat across from my daughter at our kitchen table, watching her drag her fork through a plate of pasta covered with her favorite marinara, her elbow on the table and her head resting in her hand.

“What’s wrong, Iz? You don’t like your spaghetti? You need to try and eat a little more.”

“I can’t. My froat hurts.”

She’d come home from preschool that afternoon with a runny nose and a cough, so I’d taken the night off to stay home with her. Her cheeks were pink, and when I pressed my lips to her forehead, it was warmer than it should be.

“Would an ice pop help your throat?”

“I fink so,” she answered mournfully. My poor little pumpkin.

I’d just finished settling her on the couch with her blanket, Harvey the bunny, and an ice pop when Preston called.

“You’re home. I was worried Irena might have locked you in the walk-in freezer.”

“Me?” I snorted. “Never. I’m her best bartender—although you might need to worry. Is she in a mood?”

“I didn’t stay to find out. When I saw you weren’t working, I bought a six-pack and got the hell out of there.”

“We don’t sell six-packs of Molson.”

“I didn’t say I was going to drink it. Now tell me why I’m sitting outside Blondie’s in my car, missing you.”

My heart did a little somersault.

“My daughter came home from school sick, and my mother isn’t feeling well either, so I called off. I don’t like leaving Izzy with anyone but my mother if she’s not feeling well.”

“Poor kid. Do you need anything? I can run to the store for you.”

I tried to picture Preston Fitzgerald Jamison III wandering around ShopRite or Rite Aid, looking for pediatric cough syrup or another box of popsicles. It was downright comical. I had to wonder if he’d ever set foot in a grocery store. He probably had people for that kind of thing. It was hard not to laugh.

“You know, I don’t really need anything for Izzy. But if you could grab me a box of tampons, that would be great.”

There was nothing but silence, and I thought he’d hung up. But then I heard him take a breath, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst out laughing.

He waited until I got myself under control. “I’ll get them. I was just trying to figure out where.”

I had to dab at the mascara running under my eyes. “You’re so full of shit. Fortunately, I don’t need any tampons today.”

“Good to know. Can I come over?”

I stopped laughing. Izzy had never met anyone I dated, other than her father. And he didn’t count.

“I don’t know. My daughter—”

“I’d love to meet her. I love kids, Rain. I want a house full of them some day, and I’d like nothing more than to spend the evening with you and your daughter. I mean it.”

I glanced over at Izzy curled up in her blanket with Harvey, sucking on her ice pop. She’d be going to bed soon. What harm would it be for Preston to come over and spend a few minutes with her before she went to sleep? If things kept going the way they were, it was only a matter of time before she met him anyway. I had feelings for him, and it was foolish to try and convince myself otherwise.

Maybe it was time Preston met the real love of my life.

* * *

Preston arrived about a half hour later, bearing gifts: a small bouquet of flowers, a coloring book and crayons, and a can of chicken noodle soup. Unfortunately, Izzy had already fallen asleep, and I’d carried her to bed just before he arrived.

“Look at you,” he said, following me into the kitchen and pressing himself against me while I filled a glass with water for Izzy’s flowers. Judging by the hardness pressing against my ass, I knew what we’d be doing if my daughter wasn’t asleep in the other room. His hand slipped under my tank top and over my bare stomach. “If you aren’t the prettiest nurse I’ve ever seen. Remind me to get sick some time soon.”

“There’ll be no nursing anyone but Izzy tonight, just so you know.”

He spun me around and twisted a lock of my hair between his fingers. “I know. And I respect that. This thing with you means more to me than just sex, Rain. Even if that’s how you see it.”

It wasn’t how I saw it. At least not anymore.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and pulled me closer. His eyes searched mine, waiting for an answer, and then dropped to my lips.

“It’s not.” I swallowed. “It’s not how I see it.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he looked almost smug. “Good, because I’m developing real feelings for you. Serious feelings.” He leaned back. “In fact, let me prove it to you.”

“Preston,” I whispered. “I can’t. Not with Izzy here.”

I hadn’t noticed his hand reaching across the counter for the bag he’d brought in with him until it crinkled.

“Get your head out of the gutter,” he scolded as he handed me the bag. “I brought you a gift too.”

My cheeks reddened. Then to make it worse, my hands shook as I pulled a box from the bag he’d handed me.

When I saw what it was, I burst out laughing.

“Tampons? I was kidding.”

“I know. But I wanted you to know that you mean this much to me. Enough for me to stand in line at the grocery store holding a box of tampons. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what you’d call it.”

Love? The rich boy had bought me tampons, and I was wacky enough to find it the most endearing gift I’d ever received. I chewed on my bottom lip to keep my grin from stretching all the way to my ears.

Tampons. Who’d have thought?