Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lydia didn’t talk the fifteen-minute drive back to the bungalow.
Colt reached out, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “You’ve been awful quiet. Everything okay?”
She blinked slowly, taking her eyes off the road for the barest of seconds as she looked heavenward for help she was certain wouldn’t come from the ceiling. “Just tired.” Lame excuse, and he’d probably see right through it, but she refused to open a can of worms, and talking about feelings with Colt would only do that, and worse.
“You’re never ‘just tired’, Lyds,” he admonished gently. “What gives?”
She blew out a long breath.
What gives?
How could she tell him how profoundly moved she’d been, seeing him hold his niece? The wonder on his face, the gentleness. The way he’d looked at Travis with new un
