He pulled into a parking space and cut the engine.
DAPHNE’S NERVES PINGED to life as Jock stepped from his SUV in a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark tank top, holding a bottled drink in one hand.
Holy mother of all things hot and muscled.
Lots of women loved men in suits, but Daphne had a thing for men in sweatpants and tank tops, and Jock was one exceptional-looking man. Moonlight illuminated him from behind, casting shadows over his face and making his broad shoulders and athletic frame seem bigger than life. Butterflies took flight in her stomach as he walked toward her. Once again she found herself wishing she could look away, but she was riveted to his silhouette.
He stopped a few feet from where she sat, the porchlight revealing his dark, troubled eyes. Had he thought she was someone else? Her nerves prickled, and then it dawned on her that he might be looking for Hadley, despite the late hour. As much as that bothered her, she’d been thinking about what Tegan had said all day. She felt bad that he’d lost Harvey after all those years together, and she could definitely relate to the whole walking in someone else’s shoes thing that Jett had mentioned. When she’d been newly divorced, exhausted, juggling a baby, and trying to find a job, she used to wish people could spend a few hours in her life so they’d know how much determination and energy it had taken to simply get ready for the day, much less leave her daughter even just for an interview, worrying every second about her. Maybe Jock deserved to be cut a little slack, too.
“You’re safe,” she said more casually than she felt. “My daughter’s upstairs fast asleep.” She motioned to the baby monitor beside the chair.
“I wasn’t…It’s not that.” He closed the distance between them and sat in the chair beside her. He set a Powerade in the grass and began wringing his hands, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “The way I act around Hadley, it’s not her, Daph.”
Part of Daphne wanted to ease whatever had him looking so troubled, but the mother in her needed to know more. “If it’s not her, then what is it? Because it sure feels personal.”
His eyes flicked up to hers. “It’s not. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the way I react to her.”
The honesty in his voice softened her a little, but it wasn’t quite enough. “Why do you cringe when you see her? She’s just a little girl.”
“I know she is, and it’s not fair. As I said, it’s not her. It’s me.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, shifting his attention to his wringing hands, and said, “Some things happened a long time ago that messed me up pretty badly.” He was quiet for a beat, his pain weighing heavily in the air around him. He lifted troubled eyes to hers and said, “I thought I had moved on from it, but I guess I didn’t realize how much it still affected me until Harvey passed away and I no longer had him to worry about day in and day out.”
She wanted to ask what had happened, but the rawness of his grief was palpable, and Daphne understood grief. She’d grieved for her failed marriage and for her daughter who would not have a daddy, and it had taken a long time before she could talk about all the hurtful pieces. At least this time Jock wasn’t avoiding her as he had that morning and all the times before. He was opening up, and knowing he was having such a hard time made her want to help him find his way to a better place. Tegan had said he was looking for answers. She didn’t know what Jock’s questions were, but maybe helping him would give her the answers she needed, too.
Before she could respond, he said, “I’m sorry. I interrupted your dinner.”
“What?” She followed his gaze to the slice of half-eaten pizza she’d forgotten she was holding, and that reminded her that while he was sitting there looking studly, her hair was pinned up in a messy bun, she had no makeup on, and she wore one of her biggest, comfiest sweatshirts. With her luck, she probably had pizza in her teeth, too. Way to add to his hot-mess-of-a-mother image of you. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I got busy with book club stuff and forgot I was even eating.” She waved the half-eaten slice. “I was almost done.”
“Almost done?” He glanced at the pizza box. “But that’s only your first piece.”
“I’m not very hungry.” She was starving, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She set her laptop on the table, trying not to think about what was going through his head, like the fact that nobody got to be her size by eating one slice of pizza. “Have some, really. Go ahead. Dive in—feed all those muscles” rushed from her lungs. Feed all those muscles? Her cheeks flamed. Why did she invite him to eat with her? All that vulnerability of his must have turned her brain to mush.
He laughed softly and said, “You’re so damn cute, you should come with a warning label.”
Cute? Warning label? What did that even mean? Cute was for Hadley. But it wasn’t like he’d call her sexy. No one had ever called her sexy except her girlfriends, and they practically had to, like sisters.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, reaching for a slice. “I’ll feed my muscles if you promise to eat more than one piece. You’ve got to keep your energy up to chase after your daughter.”
“Mm-hm.” She nibbled on her slice, and he finished his in four bites, watching her the whole time, making her even more self-conscious.
He opened his Powerade and said, “Want some?”
“No, thank you. I have lemonade.” She reached for her cup in the grass on the other side of her chair as he took a drink. Even his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his neck was sexy.
He ate another slice of pizza as she ate the last bite of hers. He took another drink, his eyes trained on her as he lowered the bottle to the grass and licked his lips. “Ready for more?”
“Oh, yes.” Her words came out embarrassingly breathless, and she felt her cheeks burn again.
He chuckled, shaking his head as he handed her a slice of pizza, and said, “Forget the warning label. You should come with an ice pack.”
She narrowed her eyes, hurt burrowing deep inside her. “Is it that painful to eat with me that you have to ice your eyes or something?”
His brow furrowed, and he lowered the slice he was about to bite into. He leaned closer and said, “No, Daphne,” in a deathly serious tone. “It’s not my eyes I’m worried about.”
Oh. My. God. He had to be kidding, didn’t he? She shoved the pizza in her mouth, earning the sexiest grin and a shake of his head along with a rumbly laugh. They ate in silence. He openly watched her, and she nervously looked away, but her eyes were drawn right back to him every time.
She scrambled for something to say to ease the tension humming between them. When she finished eating, she said, “You mentioned Harvey. Tegan said you took care of him for a long time.”
“Twenty-four-seven for a decade, give or take. I was pretty lost when we first met, and by the end we were as close as friends could be.” He reached for another slice of pizza and lifted his brows in silent offering.
“No thanks. I’ve had enough.”
“I’m not sure I know the meaning of enough.”
His dark eyes remained trained on her as he took a bite, eating almost half the slice, and licked the corner of his mouth. Daphne’s mind went straight to the gutter, thinking about all the other things he could do with that tongue. She gulped her lemonade, vowing not to watch him eat ever again, and hunted for a safe topic that her sex-starved mind couldn’t twist into a fantasy.
“You must miss Harvey a lot,” she said as she set her glass on the table, trying not to look at Jock’s mouth. But she liked getting to know him, and holy hotness, she liked his handsome face and pillowy lips too much not to look at him.
“I do miss him. He could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but I sure loved him. He enjoyed getting under my skin.” He smiled, as if he were reliving a memory.
“How so?”
“He was an eccentric retired actor, and a hell of a prankster. He’d fake his death every few weeks, sending me into a panic.”
“Oh my goodness! That’s awful,” she said with a laugh.
“T
hat was Harvey. He once hired a guy to act like a burglar, and of course I had no idea, so I protected Harvey. That prank didn’t end well for the other guy.” He shook his head and said, “Then there was the time he pretended to choke in a restaurant, and when I got behind him to do the Heimlich, he started yelling, ‘Help! This guy is trying to kill me.’”
Daphne laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that was embarrassing, but he sounds hysterical.”
“He was a riot.”
“Tegan told me he gave you your nickname. Does your family call you Jock, too?”
“No. They call me Jack. When I first started working with Harvey, he called me Jock as a joke, giving me shit because I was athletic. I made the mistake of telling him never to do it again, and from that moment on, he not only called me Jock, but he also introduced me as Jock to everyone.”
“It sounds like he knew how to take a prank to the next level. Which name do you prefer?”
“Definitely Jock. Not only does it hold fewer bad memories, but Harvey taught me more than you could ever imagine. I’d like to make him proud, get back to writing…” His expression turned thoughtful, and he said, “Honestly, now that he’s gone, I’m floundering a little, trying to figure out who I am without him in my life.”
“That has to be hard. I’m already worrying about the day Hadley will go off to college or get her own apartment. Your situation is a lot worse than an empty nest.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Well, that’s a hard subject. Let’s talk about you, Daph. You mentioned a book club. Is that the same book club Tegan is part of?”
“Yes. Chloe and I run it.”
As she took a drink, he said, “I hadn’t pegged you for an erotic romance reader. How erotic do you like it? Red rooms, whips and chains?”
She choked, spewing lemonade all over his sweatpants. “Ohmygosh! I’m sorry.” She grabbed a handful of napkins and started wiping his lap, blushing fiercely and rambling like an idiot, but she was unable to stop. “They’re just books. I didn’t write them.” Wipe, wipe, pat. “It wasn’t always erotic. We were reading regular romance, but—” He put his hand on her wrist, making a guttural noise as he moved it away from his crotch.
“Oh my God!” It came out sounding as mortified as she felt. She turned away, crossing her arms over her middle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t feel…” She snapped her mouth closed, because now that she was thinking about it, she had felt something. A very formidable something.
“Daphne, it’s okay.”
She shook her head, closing her eyes, hoping he’d go away. His body heat soaked into her back, and she squeezed her eyes closed.
He put a hand on her lower back, his breath warming her ear as he said, “You’re used to being a mom, which means cleaning up messes.”
“You must think I’m ridiculous,” she said.
“Did it feel like that’s what I thought?”
The air rushed from her lungs, and her eyes sprang open. He leaned into her line of vision, his eyes glittering with heat and amusement. “It’s my fault. I was just trying to make you blush.”
“Well, congratulations, Jock,” she said with a nervous laugh, choosing amusement because she had never been very good at handling heat. And when it came to Jock Steele, she didn’t trust that what she felt as an inferno might be nothing more than a flicker of a flame to any other woman. She’d already made enough of a fool out of herself tonight.
“You’ve managed to completely embarrass me.” She put the dirty napkins in her empty glass and started gathering her things. “To answer your question, I’m not into whips or chains or anything like that. I barely know what to do without any accoutrements. I’m just a working mom trying to make it through each day with a little entertainment in the form of books. That’s all.”
“Daphne,” he said, moving into her line of sight again. “I wasn’t making fun of you.”
“Great.” Pile more embarrassment onto the heap. “Then my radar is just as far off as my daughter’s.”
A slow grin curved his lips. “Oh, Daphne. You are the perfect remedy for a hard night.”
“Here we go again with sexual innuendos I’m not sure how to respond to.” She flopped into her chair.
“Wow, okay.” He sat down, trying to quell his laughter, and said, “That was not a sexual reference.”
“No? Well, there’s proof once again that I’m always the girl who is one step behind. You must be a glutton for punishment. Why are you still here?”
“Because you and I are not so different.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious, Daph. I spent a decade taking care of a man who got sicker every year. My life was spent feeding him, bathing him, making sure his every need was taken care of, entertaining him, trying to give him reasons to smile, to laugh, to make it through one more day. He wasn’t a kid, but I loved Harvey Fine like family, and when you love someone, you do anything and everything for them. My life revolved around him, much like yours revolves around Hadley.”
His words hit her right in the heart. “Okay, you have a point.”
“Having a friend who is grounded in reality and not part of a couple or all about nightclubs and hooking up, is refreshing. I love Tegan and Jett, and our other friends here, but let’s face it: They’re all paired off, and now their lives are about creating a new life together.”
“You noticed, huh?” she said softly, surprised at how similar his thoughts were to her own.
“Yes, and I’ve also noticed that you’re beautiful, smart, and funny. You’re real, Daphne, and that makes you even more special. I’m proud to call you my friend.”
A friend. Friends she could handle with a little more grace…as long as her overactive imagination and needy hormones didn’t get out of control. She exhaled a calming breath.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Now, without talking about red rooms, because you’ll just embarrass me, tell me about your book club.”
She laughed, and then she took the opportunity he was giving her to regain control, telling him about the club, the forums, and the monthly meetings. “Since Chloe and I run the club, we split the administrative work like answering questions on forums and coordinating meetings.”
“Doesn’t that make the club feel more like work?”
“No. It actually makes it more enjoyable. I get to know the members better, and we get off topic and talk about life as much as we talk about books. One of my favorite things to do is come up with discussion questions about the books for the forum each month. I try to think outside the box, asking questions that go deeper than just Would you date this guy? or Did you think the heroine handled such and such well? I like to ask about why characters do things and pick out aspects of the hero’s or heroine’s personality to see if our members can tie it to their backstory. It’s fun.”
“Careful, words like backstory are turn-ons to writers.”
She blushed again.
He laughed and said, “Sorry.”
“No you’re not.” She swatted at his arm, and he dodged it.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not. Do you enjoy reading other genres?”
“Yes. I love women’s fiction, cozy mysteries, literary fiction. Just about anything except maybe scary stories.”
The edge of his lips quirked up. “Guess that knocks my book out of the running.”
“I knew you were a writer, but I didn’t realize you wrote a scary book.”
“I haven’t written in years, so it doesn’t much matter. Have you always been a reader?”
“Yes. My dad is the Eastham fire chief and my mom runs our family business, Putt This mini golf, which is also in Eastham. Before we were old enough to stay home alone, we would go to the mini golf after school with my mom, do our homework, and stay until closing time. My mom took us to the library every Saturday and we’d each check out a stack of books to read during the
week.” Jock was looking at her intently, listening to every word she said as if he were truly interested. Maybe it was just curiosity, since Jock was a writer, but it was nice that he seemed so attentive.
“You said we. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“I have a twin brother, Sean, and an older sister, Renee. Sean’s a firefighter, and Renee runs a boutique. How about you?”
He nodded. “I’ve got three sisters and two brothers.” He was quiet for a moment before saying, “I’m a twin, too.”
“Really? Brother or sister?”
Tension tightened his features as he said, “Brother.”
“Do you and your twin finish each other’s sentences? Sometimes Sean and I do. Although we’re pretty much opposites. He’s loud and outgoing, and all those books we got at the library? He never read his. He can barely sit still long enough to read a single page.”
Jock’s cell phone rang, and he said, “Excuse me.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and silenced the call, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “I should probably take off, get showered. I’m sure I stink from boxing.”
She wondered if the call was from a woman. He probably flirted with lots of women. Maybe he had a booty call tonight. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought.
“You definitely don’t stink,” she said as they both stood up. He rolled his shoulders back, and it made him look even broader, bringing his muscular arms into focus. “How long have you boxed?”
“I learned when I was a kid. My father got sick of my brother and me hollering at each other and gave us boxing gloves, taught us a few things, and let us go at it. I boxed through college, then stopped when, um…when I was taking care of Harvey. I started again when I got back to the Cape a few months ago.” He picked up his empty Powerade bottle and glanced at the table. “Do you want some help cleaning up?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Tempted by Love: Jack Jock Steele (The Steeles at Silver Island Book 1) Page 4