She shifted, her heel sinking between the loose stones. “I’m sorry, Harry. He’s still very angry.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that.” He clapped his hands together, rubbed them. “So, you ready to go? I’m excited to see this ‘best restaurant of Shelter Bay’ you told me about.”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Sarah stared at Harry. He didn’t seem to take his son’s rejection too hard. If someone had rebuffed her in that way, she would have been devastated. But that seemed to be her problem. She cared too much about what people thought about her.
But was it possible to care too little about what someone thought about you? What your son thought about you?
“Let me get my stuff,” she said slowly. “Wait here.” Inside, she grabbed her purse and a wrap, locked the front door, and hurried out. Harry sat in the passenger seat of her hatchback.
The drive to the restaurant was tense. Harry chattered about the wineries he’d visited that day, but Sarah’s muscles coiled tighter and tighter until she felt like she’d snap. All throughout the appetizers and the salad course, her stomach churned. All the water she chugged didn’t alleviate the dryness in her mouth.
It wasn’t until her real father walked through the restaurant’s front door and made his way toward their table that she realized he was what she’d been waiting for.
Robert Martineau in a suit still turned a lot of women’s heads. His hair might have been silver, but his tall frame was solid. Strong. He smiled at her, no anger or disappointment in his face, and tears pricked behind her eyes.
Harry’s words trailed off as he stared up at her dad. Swallowing, he rose to his feet, sticking out a hand. “From Sarah’s description, you can only be Robert Martineau.”
Her dad clasped Harry’s hand, dropping it a little quicker than he normally would, and pulled out a chair. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you. When Brad told me you were in town, I wanted to take the opportunity to meet you.”
“No, no.” Harry’s face was red. From the expensive bottle of wine he’d mostly drank or from facing off with a man who’d stepped into his shoes and become the husband to his wife, the father to his children, Sarah didn’t know. “The more the merrier. Sarah was nice enough to take this old man out to dinner. Now she can treat both her dads.”
A waitress stopped by and took her dad’s drink order. Harry ordered another bottle of wine. Thinking about her credit card bill this month, Sarah winced. But it was worth it. How often did a woman get to know the man who provided half her DNA?
Turning the stem of her water goblet between her fingers, she said in a bright voice, “So Brad told you about my dinner?”
“He was worried about you.”
She bit back a snort. He’d seemed more angry than concerned, but whatever. Leaning toward her dad, she murmured. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to. I just—”
He patted her hand. “No worries, sweetheart.” He turned to her bio dad. “So, Harry, tell me about yourself. How long you planning on visiting Shelter Bay?”
“I don’t know.” Harry fiddled with his watch. “Just enjoying spending some time with my girl.”
Her dad bared his teeth. “Well, she’s definitely worth the time. Both she and Brad are. They deserved more than a father who left them. Sandy deserved more than to be abandoned with two young children with no child support.”
The tinkling of silverware echoed loudly in Sarah’s ears. She swallowed. “Dad, I don’t think now’s the time—”
“The timing wasn’t my doing. I would have been happy to have this discussion with him twenty-five years ago if I’d known where he lived.”
Sarah could hear every beat of her heart. The waitress delivered their main course, but the smell of her rosemary chicken turned her stomach. This was it. When her bio dad got up and stormed out of the restaurant. Out of her life. Again.
Harry cut his filet mignon into bite-sized pieces. “He’s right. I made a mistake. But a man can change.” He glanced at her dad. “I hope forgiveness is something you’ve taught my kids.”
The vein on her dad’s forehead was going to explode. She knew it. Every time Harry called her his kid, it was like a dog whistle to her dad.
The back of her throat ached. She’d been worried about Harry getting upset and leaving when it was her dad she should have been concerned about.
She rubbed her hand up and down her dad’s forearm until he turned his eyes on her. “My dad taught me everything I need to know about being a good person.” She squeezed his arm, and turned to Harry. “It’s not his fault if I sometimes mess up the execution. Brad and I got lucky. We got a great dad.”
“I was the lucky one,” her dad said, his voice gruff. He cleared his throat. “And I’m happy for Sarah Beth that you want to have a relationship with her now. But you can understand my concern. Sarah has always had a big heart. She was my child who always brought home every stray. Who was worried about Santa Claus’s cholesterol and put carrot sticks out for him and the reindeer. I won’t see her hurt.”
Harry’s gaze wandered around the restaurant. “Sure, sure. No one wants that. Hey, have you seen that waitress? I want to try that chocolate soufflé, and she said we had to get the order in early.”
Her dad smiled thinly. “If I see her on my way out, I’ll send her over.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked. Yes, it was completely awkward having him here with Harry, but he was her dad. And even though it felt wrong to admit, she liked spending time with him more than with Harry.
Her dad stood and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I just wanted to meet the man who gave me two wonderful gifts. If he’s still around Sunday, he’s welcome to dinner.”
And with that, she was down to one dad. An uncomfortable silence settled around them like a scratchy wool blanket. At least, it was uncomfortable for Sarah. Harry seemed content to shovel in the food with relish.
She blew out a breath. Meeting her biological father had been… different than what she’d expected. But maybe she’d expected too much. They were two strangers getting to know each other. It would take time.
But when the waitress told her that her real dad had paid for their dinner before he’d left, Sarah couldn’t help but think of the differences between the two men.
And be very grateful for the one she’d ended up with.
Chapter Eleven
“As the projections show, A&E Plumbing will be out of business by year-end unless they make drastic changes to their payroll.” James adjusted the angle of his laptop, trying to avoid the glare from the late-afternoon sun.
“Will you be here for the meeting with the CEO?” Carson Lang steepled his fingers in front of him, managing to look both thoughtful and intimidating even over the grainy image of his video conference.
James blew out a breath. He knew every number on the company’s balance sheet, could answer any question about their financials, but his boss had to ask him something he didn’t know the answer to.
The audience for Wheel of Fortune cheered, the sound oozing through his closed door, and he glared in the direction of the living room where he knew his father and Taina watched TV.
If only his dad had bought long-term care insurance when James had recommended it years ago. If only he’d agree to move in with James in San Francisco. His life was full of ‘if only’s’, but none of that helped James now.
“I hope to,” he told his boss. “But I’m prepared to video conference in on the meeting, too.”
Carson’s image froze for an instant.”—not ideal,” he said as the connection cleared. “We want to work with you, James, but we also need our associates in the office.”
He gritted his teeth. “Understood. I’ll figure something out. But until then, I’ve scheduled online meetings with the other associates working the…”
He jabbed at a button on his keyboard but the image of his boss had frozen again. “Damn it.” What a shit time for technical i
ssues, just as he was trying to reassure his boss he could work remotely. He checked the wifi. Network connection error.
He swore. His dad’s internet was only one-step removed from dial-up. Because swearing didn’t make him feel any better, he picked up a pencil from his desk and chucked it.
The door swung open, and Sarah flinched as the pencil struck the wall next to her head. “Whoa.” Bending over, she swiped up the pencil. The loose sweatshirt she wore gaped at the wide neckline, and his anger mellowed somewhat.
Grabbing the knot of his tie, he loosened it with several short tugs. “You’re early.”
Sarah checked her phone. “Actually, I’m a minute late.” She lowered her bulky tote bag onto the floor and sat on the antique milk can James had dragged into the spare bedroom when he’d set it up as a home office. “What bug has gotten up your behind? You’re even crankier than usual.”
“I’m not cranky,” he barked out. Taking a deep breath, he moderated his voice. “I’m just busy.” He sorted through the files on his desk until he found hers. “I also thought I was going to get to see you last night.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a popular girl. Although considering how last night went, I’d have much preferred being with you.”
“Really?” He crossed his arms and pressed back in his chair. “What happened last night?”
She flapped her hand. “Brad found out Harry is in town. My real dad came to the restaurant to meet him. It was loads of fun,” she said sarcastically. She held up her own file of papers. “It made filling out government forms feel like a treat.”
He took her file. “I’m glad you enjoyed them. Now let’s see if you filled them out correctly.”
Sarah pressed her lips tight, like she was biting back words, then sighed. “Your dad is looking good.” She leaned forward, and the rolled neckline of her sweatshirt slid sideways, exposing one shoulder. Her braid slipped forward, resting against her smooth, golden skin. “He let me in and his walking seemed better.”
He glanced from her skin to her paperwork. “Physically he’s improving every day.”
“Has he seen a doctor about his—”
“He’s fine.” He wasn’t fine, but James sure as shit didn’t want to talk about just how un-fine he was. “Can we get to work now? I do have other projects to get on.”
She closed her eyes and counted to ten silently, mouthing the words. She shook her body when she was done, like she was shaking off an annoyance before opening her eyes. “You really make it difficult to like you.”
He arched a brow. When she’d been under him, she’d seemed to like him just fine.
“As a thank you for helping me, again, and since I know your time is so valuable,” she said, “I brought you some dinner.”
Digging into her tote, she picked out a paper-wrapped object and flung it at his head. He snapped it out of the air, glad he had quick hands from college basketball. “You know, you’re not as sweet as you pretend to be.” He put the sandwich on a clear spot on his desk. “And I like that.”
“I’m sweet with everyone but you.” She pulled out her own sandwich.
“Glad to know I’m special.” He handed her a set of papers. “Here’s my draft of your Articles of Incorporation and Bylaws. Let me know if you see something you don’t understand or don’t agree with.”
Unwrapping his sandwich, he took a large bite and watched as she flipped through the pages. He wiped a bit of mustard from his lip and looked around. His tissue box was empty. Standing, he walked around his desk and opened up her tote. A woman like Sarah would pick up napkins along with a sandwich.
Finding several, he used one and placed the rest on his desk. He unwrapped her sandwich and placed in it front of her, as well, and pulled out two bottles of water. Not the beer he wanted, but it was wet.
Settling back into his seat, he picked up his sandwich and swung his legs up onto his desk and watched her as he ate. The little furrow that crept between her eyebrows as she read was cute as hell. And the way she gnawed on her lower lip gave him all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.
Dragging his legs down, he rolled his chair under his desk so Sarah couldn’t see what sort of effect she was having on him.
He nudged her sandwich toward her. “Eat.”
Absently, she took a bite. “This description of my business practice here.” Laying down the Articles of Incorporation, she pointed at a paragraph. “It doesn’t mention my vet practice.”
“And it won’t. Your nonprofit shelter is a separate enterprise from your for-profit practice.” His eyes dropped to her lips as she licked at the corner of her mouth. He shifted in his seat.
“Yes, but the two will intersect.” She unscrewed her water bottle and took a slug. “I’m going to be the vet for the shelter animals, and that means using the facilities at my practice. Is that going to mess up my non-profit status?”
“No. You’re donating your services and facilities to the shelter you manage. It won’t conflict.”
“Good.” She took another bite and started reading again. James had nothing to distract himself with except the way the smooth column of her neck rolled with every bite she swallowed, and the way her breasts skimmed beneath the surface of her thin sweatshirt with every breath she took.
She put the papers down. “It looks good. And what about what I filled out?” She nodded to the file before him. “Did it pass muster?”
He looked at the form again. “All your Ts are crossed. Feral Feline Services? That’s the name of your corporation?”
She nodded. “I liked the alliteration. And I made an awesome logo with the initials. You should see the website. It went live this morning. Without the donation link. That will wait until I’m officially incorporated.”
James gathered up the paperwork. “You designed it yourself? Sometimes it’s better to hire professionals for that sort of thing.”
She scowled.
“Though I’m sure you did a fantastic job,” he amended.
“Huh.” One edge of her mouth quirked up. “You’re trainable.”
“Very funny.” He turned to his computer and winced at the pinch in his neck. He rubbed the offending muscle.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I slept badly.” He didn’t mention that he’d tossed and turned to thoughts of her like a randy teenager. That, and worrying about what he was going to do with his father and his job.
She rolled to her feet and circled behind him. “I audited a class in equine massage therapy in college. Maybe I can help.”
Horse massage? He began to turn and face her. “That’s not nec—” Her surprisingly strong hands wrapped over his shoulders, and she pressed her thumbs into the base of his neck. “—cessary.” He inhaled deeply, and collapsed back into his chair. “Christ, that’s good.” Her fingers were magic.
“You wanted me to stop?” she asked, a smile in her voice.
“Don’t you dare.” He didn’t care that his dad and nurse were just a room away. That he still had several hours’ worth of work to do before he could quit.
The pressure of her fingers wiped every thought but one. She worked more than just his neck. His shoulders and upper back received her attentions, too. Every bit of the tension he held slipped away. When she ran her thumbs up the back of his neck, he let his head fall forward until his chin met his chest.
“Your muscles are all knotted up,” she said, her voice a low hum. “You need to learn to relax before you give yourself a heart attack.” She ran her fingertips through his hair, massaging his scalp.
He might have moaned.
Her breasts flattened against his back as she leaned over him. Her breath caressed his ear.
And tension started to creep back into his body. The lower part of his body at least.
Sarah rimmed his ears with her thumbs, the sensation shooting sparks through his body. She slid her fingers to his temple and soothed away the beat that poun
ded behind it. Her fingernails scratched across his scalp as she raised his head.
Her braid rested against his shoulder, and it took everything in him not to grab it, wind it around his hand. What was with him and that damn braid? A silly schoolboy fantasy? Whatever. It did it for him. That was all that mattered.
Her breasts rubbed against his shoulders, and the hard points of her nipples brushed against his back, noticeable even through their clothes.
Blood pooled low in his groin. Christ, if she was as turned on as he was, he wasn’t going to make it.
Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her around his chair and pushed back from his desk. A flush stained her cheeks and her breathing was unsteady. Her gaze dropped to his lap.
She licked her bottom lip, and he was done.
He surged to his feet. He lifted her, and she eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist. Sarah threaded her fingers into his hair again and brought his face to hers.
Their kiss was needy. Frantic. Like neither of them had felt another person’s lips against their own in a very long time. He couldn’t get enough of Sarah. Her taste, the slide of her tongue against his. She was as hot as a fire, and he was more than happy to burn.
With Sarah still entwined around him, he strode to his door and locked it. He wouldn’t have another instance of his dad happening upon them. Jeopardy had just started playing in the living room, giving James at least thirty minutes of uninterrupted Sarah-time. Pinning her against the wall, he rocked his hips into her.
She drew in a ragged breath. “This is crazy. I’m acting crazy.”
“Good.” He nipped at her jaw. “But if you’re going to put the brakes on this, tell me now.”
He ground his erection into her center, reveling in the way she quivered around him. “Am I stopping this, Sarah?” He slid his hand under her sweatshirt and ran it up her silky skin to her lace-covered breast. Plumping it in his hand, he stroked her nipple with his thumb. “Keep going, or do you want to go home?”
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