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treatment and
six months of relatively mild clinical trials. I didn’t even lose
my hair.”
    A soft hand squeezed his arm. The
tension ebbed away and warmth returned. Taylor smiled. “Interferon
sucks donkey dicks.”
    “Taylor!”
    “Well, I’m sorry, Dad, but it does. It
was the worst. I felt like I had the flu for a month. I can’t even
imagine feeling like that for an entire year.”
    Gavin chuckled at her vulgar but
accurate account. He covered her hand with his. “With all due
respect, John, she’s right. It does suck.”
    They continued the meal and the
pleasant conversation, but a kinship had already developed.
Admiration and sadness welled up for the young woman who sat next
to him. Too bad they didn’t have more time...for
everything.
    Taylor kept stealing glances at him.
His ego puffed up like Maureen’s homemade dinner rolls. Fascination
for her cornered him and wouldn’t let him out. He and Taylor had an
amazing amount of things in common, and her girl-next-door charm
floored him. When she flashed those dimples, his resistance fell
faster than an exploding thermal pod. He probably should be scared
shitless, but being with her disarmed him so easily, he couldn’t
feel anything but happy.
    Maureen stood from the table and began
clearing their empty plates. “Would anyone care for
dessert?”
    He rubbed his already full
mid-section, but never one to refuse a chance to feed his sweet
tooth, he had to ask, “What are we having?”
    The woman’s eyes twinkled. “You have
your choice of banana pudding or chocolate pie, both
homemade.”
    His mouth watered. God, he hadn’t had
homemade dessert in so long, he might have to devour it all
himself. “Mmm. How am I supposed to pick between those two
options?”
    “I want both,” Taylor piped up,
looking over at him, hairless eyebrows raised in
inquiry.
    “I’ll take both, too.” He tilted his
head toward her and whispered, “Thank you. You spared me an
impossible task.”
    “Mom made them for me. They’re my
favorites.” She whispered back.
    She stood from her chair, waiting
until he rose, then followed him into the family room and took a
seat on the sofa. He sat next to her, a respectable arm’s length
away, but everything in him sensed her there.
    John asked more questions about the
business, inquiring about the origins of the company. Gavin told
him how they began in a small apartment in St. Louis, developing
games on an old Dell. He appeared interested in how Gavin had
formed TME, listening intently.
    Although money rarely crossed his mind
these days, Gavin knew from experience it was the first thing
people thought of when they met him—how much money he had. Though
this man hadn’t asked, Gavin threw the guy a bone and suggested
John call Rick to set up a meeting with any employees who might be
interested in financial services. Based on the look in John’s eyes,
that one meeting could earn him enough to retire. Gavin smiled. He
hoped it would.
    Maureen handed them each a plate of
dessert and a fork. Vaguely aware that the conversation continued,
Gavin engrossed himself in eating his.
    Jesus God! The banana pudding
melted in smooth, creamy trails over his tongue.
    Taylor glanced at him. Apparently,
he’d been making some slightly inappropriate sounds. Her face
flushed. So did his.
    He gave her a half-grin. “Sorry. I
really like sweets.”
    “No kidding.” She stretched out her
hand with a mixed bite of pie and pudding. “Here, you have to try
them together.” She held the treat to his lips.
    Gavin shot a gaze to her dad, who’d
frozen in his chair with a comical
I-want-to-kill-him-but-he-might-be-my-meal-ticket glare.
    “C’mon. Try it.”
    How was he supposed say no to those
dimples? He looked from her to the fork she poked at
him.
    Screw it.
    It was a bite of food—dessert at that.
He took the offering.
    The flavors blended in blissful
harmony. “Mmm....”
    The hint of creamy chocolate and the
fruity smoothness of bananas