Teo dropped the barbells with a grunt. This was his first full workout—cardio and weights—since his family flew home after the funeral. He’d bought the house because of the workout room—he didn’t want to have to leave home to find a gym. Home was his refuge, his castle, there shouldn’t be any better place on earth than at home.

He downed twenty-four ounces of water and gasped for air. His muscles were pleasantly tired. With a cocky grin, he wondered if Cedar would notice a difference in them. Not that one workout would make that much of a difference, but still, a guy could hope. He’d caught her looking at his arms a couple times this morning. Not just looking but looking, and then she’d blush and drop her gaze, pretending that she was all innocent. He knew better. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

He used the gym shower and changed into some of the spare clothing he kept under the sink for just such an occasion. Not that he usually had a beautiful woman upstairs, but again, a guy could hope. He shook his head. Who was he kidding? The extra clothes were stashed because he hadn’t taken the time to put them away upstairs. He really needed to pull his life back together. He wasn’t a slob, not by nature. But after Amy passed, he’d been drunk on freedom and had let even his good habits slide. No more. He was going to take his life back; starting with eating right and getting his house in order. With that in mind, he made his way to the kitchen where a container of protein powder called.

True to her word, Cedar hadn’t cleaned the kitchen. He had to wash a blender before he could use it to make a post-workout recovery drink. Teo liked her all the more for letting the dishes sit. He poured the banana-flavored, somewhat chalky drink into a shaker cup and popped on the lid before heading out to find Cedar and Akoni.

Akoni’s giggles met him in the hall, and he followed them to the nursery. He poked his head around the doorframe to see what was so funny.

Cedar was on her hands and knees on the plush carpet, chasing Akoni as he trotted around the room. He grabbed a pair of footie pajamas and screamed like he knew the game was on. Cedar drummed the floor with her palms, chasing Akoni all the way to the hamper. He shoved the pajamas inside and stomped his pudgy feet in victory. Cedar grabbed him, blowing a raspberry on his neck and eliciting more belly laughs.

Best sound in the world.

She backed up, and Akoni looked for more clothes to put away. They were having such a good time, and it was hard to stay on the sidelines. “Can I play?” Teo asked.

Cedar’s head popped up and her cheeks turned rosy. “I am not blowing raspberries on your neck—no matter how many shirts you pick up.”

Teo laughed so hard he had to tip his head back to let it all out. The laughter cleansed him—oddly enough. It broke through the hard shell around his heart and his thoughts. Euphoria lifted him up even as he got down on his knees and pointed at a football for Akoni. “I’ll do toys; you do clothes.”

“Oh.” Cedar bit her lip. “Sorry if that came out bratty.”

“You’re fine.” He waved off her concern, just happy to be part of their little game. Happy to feel happy again. He hadn’t thought about laughing, or laughter, or the lack of it in his life until he’d felt the surprising joy Cedar’s comment brought to him.

Akoni raced to put the football in the basket, and Teo hooked him around the belly with one hand and a roar. Akoni squealed and squirmed until Teo put him in front of the toy box and pointed. “Footballs go in here.”

Akoni looked to Cedar for confirmation.

“You can do it.” She clapped her hands and smiled big, her whole face animating with encouragement. Teo had to look away to regain his breath—she was stunning when she really smiled. There was something in her eyes that was wholesome and sweet and innocent and that caused a protective instinct to come to life inside of him.

Akoni slowly moved his arm so that the ball was over the toy box. His gaze went back and forth between the two of them, clearly confused that they were changing the rules.

Teo waited, grinning and nodding like a fool. He didn’t care. He’d be a fool every day for his kid. Finally, Akoni dropped the ball and Teo commenced the tickling. It took several tries before Akoni realized Teo and Cedar were playing and which box or basket they supervised, but he got it before the floor was clean.

“He’s a smart kid.” Cedar sat down and stretched her legs out in front of her. She leaned back against the sky blue wall and crossed her ankles. The room was decorated in a Noah’s Ark theme with pictures of animals framed on the walls and soft blankets in blues and greens.

“He sure is,” replied Teo.

Akoni crawled onto her lap and leaned his head on her chest. He was already at home in her arms. Of course, he’d spent a lot of time there the last few days. Teo could understand why the kid wanted to be held when he was worn out—especially held by Cedar. She rubbed circles on his back and ran her hands through his hair in soothing brushes. Her whole being was one big comfort, and Akoni needed that. Teo wished she’d reconsider the two-month time limit and stay longer. A first day of preschool, though exciting, was a big moment in a kid’s life, and he’d want to snuggle up and talk about it. Teo could do that, but Cedar was different than he was—softer, gentler, quieter.

Teo fought the desire to settle in next to the two of them and put his arm around Cedar. Instead, he leaned against the mahogany crib. “He already prefers you.”

Cedar’s smile was gentle. “Nuh-uh. He’s a daddy’s boy through and through. He looks just like you.” She traced a finger over Akoni’s dimple and his eyes fluttered shut.

“He’s in heaven.” Teo looked down at his giant, rough hands. He had strength enough to protect his son, but Cedar’s strength, though different, was no less obvious.

Cedar laughed quietly. “Stop being so insecure. The one and only word he knows is Dad. I tried, but he wouldn’t even attempt Cece.”

Teo puffed with pride. His son did call him Dad. Amy had kept Akoni so close Teo could count on his fingers the number of times he’d held his son in his first six months of life.

Cedar knocked his foot with hers. “You’re here, but your thoughts are in the locker room.”

He snorted at her analogy.

“Where’d you go?”

Teo considered not telling her, brushing it all aside. He would have if there wasn’t this feeling that he could trust her—not just with Akoni, but with the broken parts of himself. “Amy was scared that I’d break him.” He nodded to Akoni who was drifting closer and closer to his morning nap. “She thought I didn’t know my own strength. I didn’t really get to hold him until after she died.” He gulped as the familiar guilt swept over him. Dropping his voice low, he asked, “Is it wrong for me to be glad she’s not here to keep me away from him?”

Getting the words out was hard enough, but lifting his gaze off the floor to see Cedar’s reaction was darn near impossible. He was so sure that he’d see scorn or horror as she realized what a horrible person he really was. When he finally had the courage to face her, he was knocked in the chest by the compassion she offered.

“You’re a wonderful father, Teo.”

Just a few simple words, spoken sincerely, flooded him with relief. How he’d longed for confirmation that he wasn’t screwing this all up. And Cedar handed it to him—a gift from her heart. He took the gift, held it securely in his heart, and let it feed his wounded soul.

“Sooo … Cece?” Teo asked.

“It’s what my little brother called me before he could say Cedar.” She shrugged. “Do you have a nickname for Akoni?”

Teo shook his head.

“Do you mind if I use one—sometimes? Nicknames were kind of thing at camp. Everyone had nicknames. There’s kids that went home at the end of the summer, and I had no idea what their real name was. I saw one the other day and called out Dr. Pepper! He turned around and yelled Cherry Coke! We talked for twenty minutes and didn’t use our given names once.”

Teo’s chest went all warm and fuzzy. He wanted Akoni to feel as though he belonged. Guys on the team gave out nicknames, too. Some of them stuck and some of them faded away. He wondered what kind of name she would have for him. The idea that his family could have that kind of camaraderie enticed him. “You can make up all the nicknames you like.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at Akoni; he never did quite drift off with them talking in his room. His eyes were heavy, though. “For what it’s worth, you’re wonderful with Akoni, Teo.”

Teo felt his cheeks lift in a smile, and his ears warmed under the praise. “Thanks.”

Akoni popped up at his name. He looked between them. “Da!”

“That’s right.” Cedar cupped his face in her hands. “That’s your daddy.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Are you ready for a snack?”

Akoni grew serious as he worked his way off her lap and headed for the door. Snack was a word Teo’s son knew well. The kid was an eater—just like his dad.

Cedar got to her feet and hurried to offer her hand to Akoni for support. He’d been walking for a month, but going all the way from his room to the kitchen was a hike for him.

“So.” Teo jumped up to follow them. “Do you have any more games?”

“Oh, I got game,” Cedar said over her shoulder. “But you’re not getting the playbook—not on my first day.”

Teo laughed. “Then I’m going to make a few phone calls.”

Cedar nodded. “I’ll feed Akoni and get him down for a nap, and then maybe we can go over a schedule. I brought my calendar.”

Of course she did. “You’re like an executive nanny.”

“That’s the best kind.” She beamed.

“Yes, you are.” The words were out before Teo could censor them or the quiet admiration in his voice.

She waved before disappearing into the study, which wasn’t the fastest way to the kitchen, but she’d find it eventually.

He made his way to his home office and sat behind the desk. This room wasn’t anything like Elijah’s office. There was a desk bought at an office supply store, a rolling chair, and bare walls except for his rookie jersey that was signed by the team and framed. He really should make an effort to hang some of his photos and buy shelves for his mementos instead of letting them languish in the corner in boxes and plastic wrap.

As he scrolled through his email, he wondered over all he had opened up about with Cedar. He probably should have kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know her that well. She had connections in the press—he’d seen her talk and be friendly with several reporters at the camp. She could sell him out in a heartbeat and he’d be the next big story. Football player glad his wife died. A headline that would sell for sure.

It was just that with Cedar, he was content with himself and with talking. Which was strange considering she hadn’t liked him all that much on Monday, and he’d practically had to beg her to come work for him. She wasn’t wound as tight today, though. Today she was comfortable… relaxed even. Which allowed him to relax.

A man could get used to that feeling. Coming home to a home filled with giggles and games and even a sink full of dirty dishes was better than coming home to a hollow emptiness any day. Too bad Cedar could only commit to two months. There had to be a way to get her to stick around. They needed her. He needed her.

The thought terrified him. He’d been doing well enough on his own. Surviving but not thriving. No. Thriving included laughter, and Cedar was the one who brought that back to his day. A smile crept from cheek to cheek. He felt every millimeter of muscle movement in his face, like a door—shut long ago with rusty hinges and slightly swollen from disuse. Smiling shouldn’t be a foreign feeling. As a general principle, he was a happy guy—he just needed to tell his face.

And spend some more time with Cedar. She made being happy easy.

Shaking off the introspection, he dove into answering email and focusing on the business side of managing his brand instead of the intensely personal feelings that came when he thought about Cedar.