Winning his Heart

by Lara Van Hulzen

  The woman went right for the heart of things, didn’t she?

  He looked at her. The sunlight coming through the window cast a glow on her hair that mesmerized him. She wore little makeup, her sun-kissed skin flawless. Her eyes were dark like his, but had a tiny spark of green in them.

  Taking a step away from the window, he moved toward her, his hand cradling her face and gazing into her eyes. It was only a moment before his lips covered hers. His fingers caressed her head, the soft silk of her hair pure nirvana against his skin. She kissed him back, lips nipping at his, begging for more. He tilted her head and obliged, bringing her even closer, taking more of her for himself. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands gripping at his shirt, the belt loops of his pants.

  The scent of her coconut shampoo along with the floral mix of her perfume filled his senses. He ran his thumbs along her jaw, unable to get enough of her. Why? Why would he ever question this being right? A soft moan escaped her lips, all but undoing him.

  “Mike.” She whispered his name as her hands ran up his back then down again to grasp his belt.

  “Daddy?”

  They jumped apart as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on them.

  Annalise stood in the hallway entrance, a stuffed bear in one hand, the other rubbing at her eyes.

  How long had she been standing there? How much did she see? What the hell was he thinking? He’d completely forgotten his daughter in the next room while he all but...well, he couldn’t think about how far things could’ve gone. Annalise stepped into the room, shuffling as she slowly woke up.

  Mike’s brain tried to grasp his daughter to his right all rumpled from sleep and Franchesca in front of him, hair mussed from his hands roaming through it, lips puffy from his kisses. His shirttail was untucked from how she’d grasped at him, his outward appearance he was sure as much a jumble as his thoughts.

  Annalise had caught him and Anna more than once before in a compromising position, but this was different. Much different. This felt more like being caught by his parents making out with a girl in the backseat of a car. In truth, the situation was almost comical.

  Almost.

  He took a deep breath, if only to slow his heart rate down, and turned his attention to his daughter. “Hey, sweets. How long have you been awake?”

  An attempt at trying to find out how much she saw, yes, but necessary for him to get focused.

  Annalise climbed into his open arms and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I was playing zookeeper and just got so tired, Daddy.”

  “I saw that when I came to check on you earlier.” He brushed a wisp of her golden colored hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her little ear.

  “You did? I didn’t know you were here. Mr. Bearkins wanted a glass of milk so I came to find you.”

  “Okay. Let’s get you and Mr. Bearkins a glass of milk.”

  “Can Franchesca go with us too?” She turned her head to where Franchesca stood, her hands in her back pockets, watching the two of them. She hadn’t fixed her hair and those lips called out to him once more. He wanted to be near her as much as possible. It made sense his daughter felt the same.

  “Of course.”

  The three of them made their way out of his suite and down the long hallways to the kitchen. Annalise hadn’t answered as to how much she’d seen, but he guessed nothing. She was a chatty, curious little thing. If she had seen something, she’d have said so.

  Mike waited for the sense of guilt to surge his gut, but it never came. Guilt over what? Being a grown man with feelings for a grown woman? He’d spent so much time focused on Annalise, he’d forgotten he was human as well. He recalled Franchesca’s comment from that morning. As a dad, he was all too aware of what filled his daughter’s world, but what filled his?

  Racing was one, for sure, but he’d put that on the back burner to focus on Annalise. Now he was doing the same with a relationship with Franchesca. But just like racing, maybe it was time for him to take a chance. Annalise’s hand gripped just a wee bit tighter to his neck. So much risk involved. Was it worth it?

  They got to the kitchen, the others still in there sipping champagne and talking.

  “Hey there, My Lise.” Wes came to them and took Annalise from Mike’s arms. “Did you have a good nap?”

  She nodded and hugged her uncle.

  “Guess what?”

  She pulled back and looked into his eyes, more awake now Mike could see. “What, Uncle Dubs?”

  “Noelle and I got married!”

  “You did?” She took his face in her little hands, a huge grin on her face. “Yay! Does this mean I can have a brother or sister soon?”

  Wes and the others laughed while Mike’s stomach dropped, grateful he had stuck his head in the refrigerator to get Annalise some milk when she dropped that bomb. Looking at Franchesca now would for sure let the room know something was going on between them.

  Mike busied himself with Annalise’s glass of milk while Wes answered.

  “No, My Lise. But it does mean you could have a cousin sometime in the near future.” He turned and winked at Noelle whose cheeks turned a rosy color. Franchesca sat beside her once again, avoiding eye contact with Mike as well.

  Mike’s head spun. Still reeling from the hot kisses he’d shared only minutes before with Franchesca while recovering from his daughter walking in on them, his mind couldn’t wrap around Annalise’s comment. Did she really want a brother or sister? She’d never said a word to him about it. It was natural, for sure, but with being wrapped up in the aftermath of Anna’s death, marriage and more kids had been the furthest from Mike’s mind.

  Wes settled Annalise on a barstool as Mike placed a glass in front of her, a smaller one for her bear. Attached to all of her stuffed animals, she’d always insisted the one that was with her have the same food and drink as she did. Seeing no need to battle her, Mike had gotten into the habit of pouring two glasses each time.

  He looked at Franchesca who winked at him and smiled. Man, she was beautiful. They hadn’t said a word to one another since being wrapped up together in each other’s arms, kissing each other senseless, but one look, one smile and he could read her thoughts.

  It’s all good.

  Mike looked around the kitchen. Yeah. It was all good.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Franchesca sat on the huge tire swing in the backyard. As a child, it was her favorite place to sit and think. Her dad had hung it for her when she was about ten years old. He made the tire hang flat, as opposed to upright, so she could lay back on it and stare up at the sky. The clouds during the day, the stars at night. She’d mastered rigging a blanket in a way that made it comfortable, a skill she still possessed and was grateful for as she looked up at the clear blue morning sky and thought about the past two weeks.

  To say the kiss she and Mike had shared was hot was an understatement. Having Annalise walk in on them had thrown a huge dose of reality their way, something that bothered Mike more than it bothered her. But that made sense. Annalise was his daughter. He wanted and needed to protect her.

  When he’d walked her to her car later that day, he gave her a tender kiss and a promise that he didn’t regret what was happening between them, but they did need to talk about it. She agreed. Of course, since then, he’d been on a long trip with his racing team while she was busy with her studio and helping watch Annalise. Something she was loving more and more. Mike and his precious daughter were stealing her heart at a pace that took her breath away.

  At this point, her vow not to fall for a non-artsy gorgeous type had flown out the window. But there was nothing about Mike that was similar to any man in her past. Nothing. And now that she’d seen him with his daughter and family, what she had deemed controlling at first was honest to goodness love and care for those that meant something to him.

  Had she really found in Mike a person who could let her be herself while sharing the burden of life with her? Was she ready to do the same with him in re
turn? They still hadn’t had time to talk about where things were going with them, mainly stealing kisses and short, quiet moments together when he got home from his trip and before she rushed out to her studio.

  Having a child in the situation made things more complicated. That was clear. But Franchesca didn’t mind that their time wasn’t all theirs. She was falling hard for both of them. The whole damn family if she were honest with herself. If she weren’t careful, she could lose her heart to the entire lot of them. A fact that didn’t scare her as much as it had not long ago.

  The sound of the neighbor’s lawn mower sputtered to a stop. The smell of fresh cut grass filled the air mixed with rubber from the tire that her head lay on. One small puffy cloud floated overhead. Summer in Montana was hard to beat.

  She blinked and a tear rolled down into her hair. Always independent and almost always in motion, she’d had little time in her life to feel lonely. But at the moment, she’d give all she had to have her dad back. To have her mom to talk to about Mike. Well, she could still talk to her mom about Mike, but not to where her mom could give advice. Franchesca was learning that adding new faces and names into her mom’s world confused her. Her mom’s memory was decent in the years when she was young and up until Franchesca was a child, but after that, things got fuzzy. So, new people weren’t easy for her mom to grasp. And certainly not the details of Franchesca’s relationship with Mike.

  She planned on going to May Bell House to visit her mother that morning. Although she didn’t have high hopes her mother could advise her on the subject either, she did want to talk to her about Daniel St. Claire’s offer to set up an audition for Franchesca in New York. Even if her mother couldn’t give a solid response, the simple act of talking it out with her might make Franchesca feel better. Clear her mind somehow.

  When he’d made the offer, she had to hold back her excitement. Living in New York for a time, she was all too aware of how tough it was to get an audition. To have someone like Daniel St. Claire in your corner was huge. But her heart was pulled in two directions. She had so much in Marietta she loved, more and more so each day. But the pull to audition again... The thought that she could maybe get a decent part? Broadway, even... She tamped down her imagination before it ran away from her. She couldn’t move back to New York, could she? Her mom was here.

  And Mike and Annalise.

  But when she’d told him about his dad’s offer, he’d asked her questions as if he supported her going. A fact that endeared her to him all the more. Would he really be okay if she wanted to live in New York again? She took a deep breath in and let out a loud, “Ugh!” So many questions, not enough answers. That was the story of her life. Again, if only she had her mother and father’s wisdom to lean on.

  She nudged the ground with her foot causing the tire swing to sway back and forth, a slow rhythm she found comforting. Not one to think too much about her lack of siblings when she was young, the idea of someone to share the load with was appealing. The St. Claires ribbed one another and at times frustrated each other, but there was a deep love between them all. One that Franchesca was a bit jealous of now having seen it. Not to mention Noelle with her sister, Holly. They’d been through the tragedy of losing their parents together. Franchesca had no one who’d walked the same road as her. No one who could grasp what she was dealing with at the moment.

  She sat up and wiped another tear away that had strayed down her cheek. Enough. It was time for her to put on her big girl pants and handle life. So she didn’t have siblings. So what? Her parents had raised her to be capable. Self-sufficient. That was about the only thing she was certain of at the moment.

  She got off the swing and shook the dust off her skirt. Lying here thinking hadn’t brought her any closer to any decisions. Life was moving, just like that puffy cloud above. She’d be damned if she’d sit and watch it float by.

  “Hi, Franchesca.”

  “Hi, Margie.” Franchesca greeted one of the administrators of May Bell House as she approached the front desk. She smiled at the pleasant woman she’d met when she was considering placing her mother there.

  “Your mom is in the main room looking through the photo albums you brought her. What a wonderful idea. She’s quite happy.” With a nod, she went back to her paperwork on the desk.

  Franchesca found her mother at the same table she’d been sitting at the day Mike had come to May Bell House looking for Franchesca. It had become a favorite spot of hers. Franchesca’s as well. The window nearby overlooked the back side of the property, plush green hills beyond. It was not unlike the view from the back of their cottage. Maybe that was why her mother liked it so much. “Hi, Mom.”

  Sophia Stone looked up from the photographs in front of her. Her dark hair, now with a few gray strands flowing through, was pulled back into a chignon at the base of her neck. Eyes the same deep color as Franchesca’s looked up at her as a smile spread across her face.

  “CeCe.”

  Franchesca blinked back tears. Oh, how she hoped her mother never got to a point where she didn’t remember her. She’d been reading up on her mother’s condition, heartbroken over the stories of loved ones who were there in body, but lost in mind and memory.

  She took a seat beside her mother, scooting her chair up close so they could look at pictures together.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying these.”

  Her mother turned a page and ran her hand across a photo. “I am.” It was as if her skin, weathered by time, matched the wrinkled photo paper. Both signs of a journey traveled, of a life well-lived. How many of those moments still housed themselves in her mother’s mind and how many had already faded?

  “Do you remember this?”

  Franchesca looked at the photo. It was of her first tap dance recital. She was about six years old. The leotard she wore was bright yellow, a large sun with a smiley face covering her middle, outlined in hot pink. A matching one covered her backside. She had a headband holding back her hair, complete with antennas sticking out the top that held sparkly yellow balls of sunshine.

  She remembered it like it was yesterday. The sound of her shoes as they clacked on the floor when she walked. How proud she’d been that she hadn’t missed a step the entire performance. The roar of the applause had sent chills through her, something she hadn’t understood at the time, but now knew was a deep love of performing.

  Did her mother remember it?

  “You were so cute.” Her mother laughed. “All of you with those smiley faces on your bums bouncing when you walked.” She shook her head. “Most darling thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Franchesca closed her eyes and soaked it in for a moment.

  She remembered.

  Mere weeks ago, she’d taken for granted the simplest things. Chatting with her mom at the end of the day as they sat in rocking chairs on the porch. Watching old musicals late at night on television. And now the best moment of the day was when her mom could recall something, anything, from the past.

  “Here’s another good one.” Her mom pointed to a photo of Franchesca sitting atop a horse, her father smiling wide as he held onto the reigns in one hand, his other hand on Franchesca’s leg. “You were so upset with him. You did not want to ride.”

  “I wasn’t much of a cowgirl, much to his dismay.” A fact that was evident from the look on Franchesca’s face.

  “Oh, but he loved you so.” Her mother looked at her and patted her cheek. “So different you two, just like he and I were.” She placed her hand on the page again, her eyes moving back to it as well. “He was so handsome. I simply couldn’t resist him.”

  She’d heard the story countless times, but Franchesca never tired of it. How her dad had come to New York, got talked into going to a show with a friend, and came away mesmerized by Sophia.

  “He had to meet me. And as calm a man as he was, your father could be relentless.” The smile on her mother’s face stated her comment was meant as a compliment. “He paid a guard backstage to let him pass so he coul
d find me and ask me to dinner. I was surprised, of course, at this cowboy seeking me out so adamantly...but his eyes. Oh, his eyes drew me in like a moth to the flame. I could see right down to his tender heart and soul. I fell hard for that man. I left New York and never turned back.”

  The question sat on Franchesca’s tongue for a moment before she spoke. “Did you ever regret your decision, Mom? Did you miss New York? The stage?”

  Her mother sat back in her chair, placed her hands in her lap and looked out the window. She didn’t speak, causing Franchesca to believe she’d lost the moment of lucidity with her mother.

  Franchesca looked at the picture once more. Her father was a handsome man. Not unlike Mike. He didn’t have the cowboy thing going on the way her father did, but both of them striking just the same.

  “Yes.” Her mother still stared out the window. “I loved him more than anything on this earth, but yes, I missed the stage. We fought a few times over it, your father and I, when I tried to bring it up. He was always supportive of me, but I think he feared if I went back for any length of time, I wouldn’t return. The stage was a mistress he thought he couldn’t compete with. It wasn’t true, of course. I would never have left him. But I was curious. Did I still have what it took to perform? Was the applause and the lights and the glamour of it all still worth it?”

  Her head shook as if the movement would sweep away the memories. Thoughts she’d never once shared with Franchesca. Although, in all fairness, she’d never asked.

  As if reading Franchesca’s mind, her mother continued. “I was happy, CeCe. So very happy. Don’t misunderstand. I loved our simple life. I love being your mom. And I loved being his wife. But there are things you give up for that happiness. Both sides in a marriage do. That’s just the bold, hard truth. Did I regret giving things up? Sometimes. But the regret never outweighed the reality. The regret was fleeting. My world was not.”

  She smiled and patted Franchesca’s hand. “Now, tell me. How are the other children doing?”