There had been a broken look in her pretty blue eyes that had him wanting to cuddle her. Turner gave himself a stern talking to while she gave her sister instructions and provided clothing for her sons.
The sounds of kids playing had him smiling. They were rambunctious kids—he easily heard her tell them to calm down before they flooded the entire hotel. But there was laughter in her voice.
Annie was a great mother; he had no doubt about that.
He wanted to see her with her children. Wanted to watch her nurture and care for those she loved the most. And then he wanted to hold her close to his chest and show her that she deserved someone to nurture and care for her, too.
He strongly suspected that she spent all her energy caring for others as a way to hide what frightened her.
He frightened her.
On a male-female level. Turner fought a grin of pure male satisfaction at that. He wanted to. He wanted Annie aware of him on that most basic level.
Turner waited for her to gather her courage and come back to him.
Annie was far braver than she realized.
He’d never forget the sight of her staring down one of her neighbors—one that made Rafe and Caine look petite—in defense of what Turner was trying to do.
His little stalwart defender, ready to take on the world.
He was just lucky she felt that strongly about him, too. She pulled the bathroom door closed, then turned to him. Turner stood and did the first thing that came to him. He opened his arms. And waited.