by Sabrina York
So he girded his loins, tacitly ignored her presence and focused on his plate, even though, for some reason, his appetite had vanished.
* * *
Lizzie was a bundle of nerves as she took a seat in a dim corner of the local bar and grill, aptly named the Butterscotch B&G. It was, literally, the only place in town to eat.
Butterscotch Ridge had only one hotel, too, so where to stay had been an easy decision. After checking in, she’d wandered around town a little, stretching her legs after the long drive and checking out the handful of shops—notably, a grocery store, a used bookstore and a liquor mart—before responding to the cries of her empty stomach and ending up here.
The restaurant was clean and cool, and frankly, that was all Lizzie needed right now. That, and maybe a drink. As she waited for the waitress, she tried to read the menu, but found herself wondering if she’d made a monumental mistake coming here.
Darla could have lied. Wouldn’t that just be a fine kettle of fish? To be here, in this Podunk town, looking for Danny, when he could be in LA or New York or...well, anywhere?
That wasn’t the only burning question, though.
She and Danny had been apart a long time. She’d certainly changed since then. But what would he be like now? Had he married, or did he still manage to deftly skirt commitment? What would it be like to see him again? More to the point, how would he react to her news? What heartbreak would this weekend bring?
If she even found him. If he was even here.
“Hey there.” A glass of ice water appeared before her and Lizzie glanced up to see a cheerful waitress in a bright apron brandishing her pad. “My name’s Crystal. What can I get you?”
“Oh.” Lizzie leaned back and sighed. “A lemon drop would be awesome.”
“Lemon drop?” Crystal chuckled. “I’m afraid that’s way beyond our bartender’s pay grade. May I suggest a rum and Coke?” She leaned closer and winked. “It comes with a maraschino cherry. No extra charge.”
Lizzie bit back a grin. “Sounds awesome.” It would be nice to wash the dust of the trip from her throat. Or maybe there was something else drying her mouth. Something that tasted like angst.
“Perfect.” Crystal scribbled on her pad. “You want to eat, too?”
“Yes, but not yet.” Lizzie waved the menu. “I’m still looking. Anything you recommend?”
“Steaks are good.”
Lizzie grimaced. She wasn’t much of a carnivore. “Anything lighter?”
“We have some nice salads.” Crystal pointed to that section of the menu. But before Lizzie could scope them out, the waitress said, “We don’t get many strangers here. Usually just regulars.” It was a gentle prodding, but Lizzie didn’t bite.
“This seems like a nice place,” she said, glancing around the well-kept interior.
Crystal chuckled. “Oh, it’s quiet now. All family-style and proper. You should see it when the weekend really gets started. After the dinner hour, this place becomes a bona fide honky-tonk.”
“I’ll have to check it out.” She wouldn’t. Honky-tonk was hardly her style. “How long have you lived here?” she asked.
Crystal rolled her eyes. “Forever.”
“You like it?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s peaceful. There’s a real community—the people are the best.”
“That’s good to know.” She put down the menu and pinned Crystal with a curious gaze. She seemed friendly and chatty, so Lizzie decided she might as well just ask the question hovering on her tongue. “Have you ever met someone named Daniel Diem?”
She wasn’t prepared in the least for Crystal’s response. Her eyes widened and she issued a little eep. “Danny Diem? Of course, I know him.” She leaned in and whispered, “Generous tipper.”
“Really?” Lizzie gaped at her. Was it really that easy? Just waltz in and ask a random stranger? Apparently, it was just that easy. In Butterscotch Ridge, at least.
“In fact, I just saw him having supper.”
Lizzie’s heart gave a hard thump. A million thoughts and emotions whipped through her, including an exhilarating mix of terror and elation. After everything she’d been through, now, finally, all her hopes and fears would be answered once and for all.
Crystal scanned the establishment. “Yeah. There he is.” She pointed across the bar into the restaurant.
Lizzie’s gut clenched.
Time seemed to slow as she turned her head to follow Crystal’s gaze. She froze as her glance fell on the too-handsome man, who was staring back at her from across the restaurant. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Danny. Sure, he was a little older, but she’d know that muscled silhouette, the cut of that chin, anywhere.
Apparently, she’d deluded herself to think that she’d forgotten all about him, wiped him from her psyche, cleansed him from her heart. But she’d been wrong. Really, really wrong.
It all came flooding back in the fraction of a second. She remembered his laugh, his kisses, the way he made her feel safe and wanted in his arms. She remembered...everything.
Their gazes clashed. As she stood, so did he.
Five and a half years was a long time. She’d certainly changed since then—gone from being a girl with no worries to a woman with a world of responsibilities on her shoulders. Had he grown up at all?
One thing she knew for sure—he still made her heart patter. He also made her mind turn to mush. Which was definitely not good. The last thing she wanted was to have this conversation with him while she was in such an emotional state. But she had no choice, did she?
It seemed to take forever for her to cross the room to him. Up close, he was so striking, so familiar, the sight nearly brought her to tears. The lines of his face hadn’t changed much, though his dark hair had begun to silver a whisper. His eyes were the same, though. Warm and brown and wreathed in thick lashes. Memories engulfed her. The good ones. Not the ones she tried to bring to mind whenever she was foolish enough to miss him, those thorny memories of a man who wanted nothing more than playtime. A man who’d not been ready or willing for the responsibility of a family.
“Danny.”
The sound of her voice seemed to shock him from his stupor. “Lizzie? Is it really you?”
“Yes.”
“What—what are you doing here?” His tone was sharp. As though he was shocked and displeased to see her. She’d expected as much, but frankly hadn’t expected it would hurt this badly.
She tipped up her chin. “I came here to find you.”
A dark eyebrow arched, sending shivers down her spine. “How did you know where I was?”
“I, ah...” Heat rose on her cheeks. “I called around. Darla told me you were coming to Butterscotch Ridge.”
“Darla.” Not a snort, but just barely. “How the hell did she know?”
“She said she heard from Rob.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “What did she tell you?”
“Just that you were coming here.”
“Did she say why?”
Lizzie lifted a shoulder. “That you have some kind of inheritance.”
She was not prepared for the mask that closed over his features. It frightened her. He narrowed his eyes and frowned.
When he didn’t respond—at all—awkwardness descended. The worst awkwardness she’d ever experienced. And she had no idea how to dispel it. Not with him standing there, arms crossed, staring at her coldly.
He broke the silence with four sharp words. “Why are you here?”
“Why don’t you sit down?” She did so herself, sliding into the banquette of his booth—her knees were about to give in, anyway.
He ignored her request. “Why are you here?”
“Danny, this is hard enough, and you’re not making it any easier for me—”
“Oh, I’m not making it easier for you? You’re the one who left me. N
o warning. Nothing. Just...gone. Poof.”
Irritation bubbled, and though she’d told herself she wouldn’t allow her anger to surface, she couldn’t help snapping, “There was plenty of warning. You weren’t paying attention.”
“Really? I was sure paying attention during our last fight. I remember that pretty clearly.”
“Do you? Do you remember what we fought about?”
His face went blank and he dropped into his seat where he could face her, but not come too close. As though he were protecting himself from her.
What a laugh. She was the one who needed protecting. He was far too addictive for her own good.
“Why don’t you tell me what you remember?” he suggested.
She sighed. “We’d been talking about the future.”
“Ah, yes.” He settled back into his seat, his expression still mutinous.
“And you freaked out.”
He frowned. “I did not freak out.”
“You made it pretty clear we had no future together.”
“I didn’t say that. I just said I didn’t want marriage.”
“Or kids.”
“And can you blame me? With parents like mine? What kind of father would I be?”
That comment hit her like a blow. Stole her breath. Made her question her own sanity for coming here.
Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed at all.
“And my mother?” he continued harshly. “Did Darla tell you what my mother has done now?”
“She said she skipped bail.”
He barked a bitter laugh. “Skipped bail, then skipped town. But before she disappeared, she cleaned out my bank accounts and my apartment. She hocked everything I own. Everything I’ve worked for.”
Anger raged in Lizzie’s heart. The woman truly had no moral compass.
“You’re not like your mother.” She’d told him that a thousand times, but too many years raised by that horrible woman had clouded his self-image.
“And then, there’s the father. The man who wanted nothing to do with me. The man who wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence. He certainly didn’t support us.”
“You’re not like him, either.” She hoped...
He shook his head and scrubbed his face with his palms. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Not anymore.” She hated his expression, the resignation and the pain. “So, why are you here?” The question again, this time, whispered.
She might as well just dive in. “I...need your help.”
He frowned again. “What do you want?”
Her heart stuttered. Oh, Lord. Now that the time was here, she didn’t know what to say. Or how to say it. Or anything.
Danny waited, silently, watching her. Then his lips tweaked into a hint of a sad smile. “You’re procrastinating, Lizzie. You never procrastinate unless it’s something bad.”
Her expression must have given something away because he paled.
“Are you okay? Are you sick?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. And no. It’s not bad. Not bad at all. Well, not all bad. There is some bad, I suppose. But it’s...” She trailed off. She was babbling—she knew she was. It was yet another way she avoided unpleasant topics.
Danny pinned her with a sharp look. “What is it you want to tell me?”
She wrinkled her nose. “About that last fight we had—”
“What about it?” His tone was tight, as though the words were bitter on his tongue.
Right. “The one where you told me you didn’t want marriage or children.” She tried not to sound bitter, as well, but failed.
“For good reason,” he snapped.
“Right,” she snapped right back. Then she met his gaze as bravely as she could. “Well, I was pregnant.”
* * *
Lizzie’s words hit Danny like a tidal wave. All kinds of emotions swamped him, so many that he couldn’t separate them, couldn’t make sense of them. Couldn’t...anything.
He stared at her. “Pregnant?” The moment passed in a sizzle of silence and then he asked, because he had to, “Was it mine?”
Her expression froze, then crumbled, which hit him like a punch to the chest. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he had. Clearly he had. After a moment, she composed herself, tipped up her chin in that way she had when she was infuriated and said, “Seriously? Are you asking me that?”
“I think I deserve to know.” She should know as much, as adamant as he’d been against being a father.
In response, she pulled out her phone. He didn’t understand the move at first, but then she turned it to him and he saw.
Oh, God. He saw.
It was a picture of an adorable cherub with a heart-shaped face, bright brown eyes and a toss of dark curls. The dent in her chin even matched his. She was a perfect and exquisite mix of the two of them. There was no doubt about that. Danny’s heart thudded and his lungs locked as he stared at the image.
His daughter. This was his daughter.
He had a child.
Some strange and great elation rolled through him at the sight of her. It made him giddy and filled with joy. What a pity it was quickly followed by dread and fury as the facts clicked into place. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lizzie looked away. “I tried to tell you that night.”
“But you didn’t.” And it hurt. It hurt like hell that she’d kept such an enormous secret from him. Never mind it was a secret he would have rejected back then.
She sighed and raked back her hair. He tried not to notice how vulnerable she was, how pale, how beautiful. “I don’t know what I was trying to do. Maybe get you to say you wanted more with me. To try and feel more secure in my relationship with you before I told you about the baby. I didn’t want you to be with me because you felt obligated.”
“Obligated?” Apparently, he was so stunned, all he could do was repeat the last word she said.
“Anyway, when I said what I said, and you said what you said... I decided to leave. I decided I would raise the baby by myself, rather than tie you down and make you resent both of us.”
“I would never have—”
“But you would have. Come on, Danny. With the mindset you were in? You would have.”
He let the argument drop, because she was probably right. He’d been pretty self-absorbed back then.
Too bad he still was sometimes.
He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to calm. “So... You’re sure she’s mine?”
It was clear she was trying not to roll her eyes—he knew her that well. “We can do a paternity test, if you like. But honestly, Danny, I’m not asking you to step in and be a dad—”
“You don’t want me to be a part of her life?” he interjected, somehow wounded by her words. Somehow more determined than ever to prove her wrong.
“Only if you want to.”
Oh, he wanted to. He didn’t know why, but he did. “I have a child.” It took everything in him to form those words, so alien to his nature. So frightening.
She smiled then, and it was a lovely smile that made his chest hurt. “Her name is Emma.”
Emma.
“Pretty name.”
“After my mother.” She looked down at her hands. “I hope you don’t mind.”
It was all he could do not to snort. They sure as hell wouldn’t have named her after his. “So she’s...five?”
Lizzie nodded. Right. They’d been apart five and a half years.
He forced down his anger. She was right that he’d been a selfish jerk back then, but that didn’t wash away his resentment. Still, there was something more important here than his disgruntlement, or his fear or his conviction that he’d be a horrible parent.
Emma.
“What...?” What to ask? “What’s she like?”
L
izzie smiled. Her defenses softened. “She’s a little like me. A lot like you.” She waved at the picture. “She has your hair, your eyes and, well, to be honest, your stubbornness.” Lizzie chuckled a little. Her expression was enraptured; her love for her daughter shone through her eyes. “She’s a funny little thing. Always saying things you don’t expect. And she’s clever. She loves puzzles and math and knows all the words to every Disney song.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. Every one.” A laugh. “She’s a smart one, our Emma.” She stilled abruptly, as though she’d realized what she’d just said and regretted it.
Danny decided to let that go because one thought, and one thought only, swirled in his mind. “Does she want to meet me?”
Lizzie’s head whipped up. She gaped at him in horror. “What?”
“Does she want to meet me? Is that why you’re here?”
“No. No! She doesn’t even know you exist.”
Why did that fact gut him like a fish? Irritation rippled and some unfamiliar possessive instinct raised its ugly head and roared. “She doesn’t know I exist?”
“Well, she knows she has a sperm donor—”
“A sperm donor?” He should probably try to remain calm, but somehow, being referred to as nothing more than a sperm donor was deeply disturbing.
“Yes.”
“How on earth does she know that?”
“She has a bad habit.” Lizzie sighed. “She likes to eavesdrop on adult conversations.”
His pulse ticked. “You refer to me as the sperm donor?”
“I... Sometimes.”
“I want to meet her.” Where this urge came from he had no clue, but he knew it, felt it, needed it to the core of his being.
Lizzie studied him for a moment or two, as though assessing his sincerity. And then she nodded. “Good. Because we need you.”
Something cold slithered through his veins, probably from the hint of desperation in her tone. “You need me? Suddenly, after five years?”
“Yes.” She nodded and dropped her gaze to her fingers, which, he noticed, were tangled on the tabletop and white from strain. “You see, Emma’s sick. And without your help, she may die.”