The Child Comes First by Elizabeth Ashtree Page A

parking?”
    They were lucky, and it only took a minute to find a spot. Then they headed on foot to Jayda’s building. It felt odd walking together without speaking, heading into her home. But Jayda couldn’t make idle conversation. She was consumed with worry…and determined. Before she could sort things out, they were entering her apartment on the third floor.
    â€œThis is really nice,” he said as he looked around. “Homey.”
    Jayda had never entertained a man here before, preferring to go to her partner’s place when she’d had boyfriends in the past. Simon’s bulk made the space seem to shrink, and claustrophobia took hold of her for a moment as she led him through the narrow foyer. In the living room, she suggested he make himself comfortable while she got supper started in the kitchen. He asked if he could help, but she could tell that cooking wasn’t his thing. The instant she declined the offer, he sat down on the overstuffed sofa with his arms stretched out on either side along the back.
    â€œHoller if you change your mind. I follow directions well.” He smiled at her, a man at his ease.
    She tried to emulate the casual mood, but her insides went skittish on her. In the kitchen, she dropped a metal salad bowl in the sink. The resounding clatter brought the man rushing into the narrow confines of the galley area.
    â€œAre you okay?” he asked.
    â€œYup, everything’s fine,” she lied. “The bowl slipped. Wet fingers. Silly, really. It happens all the time. With this bowl, I mean. Slippery when wet.” Stop talking, she told herself. Not another word about the stupid bowl. Focus on putting the washed lettuce into the colander to drain. Now think about cutting up some celery and carrots.
    â€œHey, I can do that,” he said. As he reached around her to take the knife from her fingers. His shoulder brushed hers. It could have been accidental, but it felt like something else. Anxiety flooded through her. But at the same time she wanted to lean back into him, to see what might happen next. Simon completely rattled her. And yet he also attracted her more than any man had in quite some time.
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    S IMON COULDN’T QUITE understand the feelings that were racing through him. All during dinner, he was filled with contentment. And yet he wanted something else, and the urge to figure out what that “something” might be kept him on edge. He talked more, revealed more than he had in a long while. By the time they’d finished the pasta and sipped the last drops of wine, he’d become completely, uncharacteristically mellow. And yet a subtle buzz vibrated inside him.
    â€œLet me help you with the dishes,” he said.
    â€œYou don’t have to do that. I’ll just put everything in the dishwasher.”
    â€œThen I’ll help load the dishwasher. Because if my mother finds out I didn’t help, I’m in big trouble.” He picked up some dishes and headed for the sink.
    Jayda rinsed them off under the faucet and Simon took a place beside her fitting items into slots in the machine—plates, flatware, glasses, serving dishes all arranged neatly. But then she leaned back a bit to look around him and inspect his work. Disapproval sprang to her eyes. He looked down at his loading and could see nothing wrong with the arrangement of dirty dishes. When she casually began to shift things around, he captured her hand.
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong with how I put them in there,” he protested.
    She had the grace to look sheepish. “I know, but I just like things a certain way,” she admitted. She tried to slip her hand from his and he let her escape, but he also moved himself in front of her so that she couldn’t reposition anything else.
    â€œC’mon,” he urged. “Live on the wild side and leave it the way I did it. Find out if they don’t all end up just as clean.”
    She