He wore board shorts and a T-shirt with a picture of a horse’s head on it and the words Why the long face? Little Leo followed, clutching a duffel bag to his chest. Like his father, he was fully dressed but barefoot. “Try it under the table, Leo,” Trevor told his son. “That won’t get in anyone’s way.” He scratched his head, making his dark hair stand out in several directions. “Coffee! I smell coffee.” “Good morning,” said Sophie. “Help yourself. Cups are on the counter.” Trevor’s eyes darted around the room, landing on anything but Sophie, who wore a baggy T-shirt that couldn’t hide the fullness of her breasts. When had a woman last greeted him with a smile? Or filled the room with such a clean, sweet fragrance that he wanted to rub up against her skin like a cat? Or made coffee in the morning? He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a large gulp. “Man, this is good.” Leo had obligingly crawled under the large kitchen table, where he knelt, unpacking his Legos.
