Christmas at the Cove

by Rachel Brimble

  He tipped his head back and closed his eyes as if trying to hold on to his self-control. She knew the feeling.

  He sighed. “I said I need time. You owe me that. Tell me you’ll stay and let me have time to process this. We’ll meet tomorrow when, hopefully, I can think straight.”

  Her heart thumped and her body trembled. How could she refuse him twenty-four hours? He dipped his chin and his crystal-blue, black-lashed eyes bored into hers. As much as she wanted to sprint upstairs, pack and get the hell out of there, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t have done that to anyone...but especially not him. Not to the father of her child. God damn it, not when he was a man she wanted to touch so badly it made her want to scream.

  More than that, how could she refuse his request when he looked at her in the exact same way Belle did when she was hurt, confused and desperate to understand what her mother had just told her?

  Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to call.”

  “Promise?”

  She huffed out a wry laugh. Belle would’ve said that, too. She opened her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  His gaze lingered over her face, slowly evolving and changing. She stood rooted to the spot as his frustration abated and turned to something equally as fiery, but now its implication ran over her body in a way that made her yearn. Her breath turned harried as her body tingled with awareness.

  Just as she recognized his intention, he gripped her hand and tugged her forward. Carrie opened her mouth to protest but it was too late. His lips touched hers as he held her firmly against his broad, hard chest.

  Stop this! Stop this now! But she leaned into him, her toes curling in her boots and her core humming mercilessly. She could do this. She could match him blow for blow, kiss for kiss. A groan escaped and she raised her hand to grip his neck. She was in control... Liar!

  She had never felt so out of control since the night she slept with him. Her body trembled with a desire that hadn’t been ignited in any shape or form since Scott last touched her. This wasn’t the desire she felt for Gerard during their lovemaking. This was fraught with danger and potential heartbreak of a different kind. She had to stop the kiss and stop it now.

  Gathering her strength, she pushed her hands flat against his chest and shoved. “Happy now?” She raised her eyebrows, her body a mess. “Exerted enough authority to stroke your ego? Don’t touch me again. Do you hear me?”

  His gaze was feral. “I needed to know if it’s still there. I’ve never forgotten you. I’ve never had a relationship or even sex with another woman that compared to what I had when I was with you. Don’t you dare leave.”

  He stormed past her, toward the exit, before she had time to tell him to go to hell or even draw a breath. She raised her shaking hand to her tender mouth. What had she done? How could she have not seen Scott Walker was a man who took what he wanted whenever he wanted it and to hell with the consequences?

  Despite her bravado, the need to slump to the floor reverberated through her weakened muscles. She cast her manic gaze left and right. People lingered, watching her curiously. Embarrassment replaced her shameful lust. Her first kiss in months and it was with the man Gerard always suspected she loved. Tears burned. Was this love? Did it make you lose your mind? Do things you normally wouldn’t? Carrie trembled. Did it really hurt this much? Did it make you want to run and hide...yet still reach out for the person in question?

  Inhaling a shaky breath, Carrie stormed toward the elevator. The seconds passed like hours as she waited for the doors to open.

  “Good afternoon, madam. Which floor?”

  She forced a smile at the elevator attendant’s greeting, cursing the world that she wasn’t alone to collapse to the floor. “Six, please.”

  He pressed the button and Carrie concentrated her gaze on the rising neon numbers above the door. When the doors pinged open, it took every ounce of her self-control not to sprint through the opening like a woman possessed. Instead, she tossed the attendant a wide smile and walked out with as much dignity as she could muster.

  Just as the doors closed behind her, her cell phone beeped with an incoming text. Dread knotted her stomach as she slowly extracted her phone from her bag and looked at the display.

  You owe me some time. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine. Scott.

  Carrie closed her eyes as the corridor walls drew in on her until she thought she would scream out loud.

  * * *

  SCOTT SAT AT his kitchen table, frustration curling his hands tighter on his coffee mug. Any man who ran his own business, paid mortgage payments on a three-bedroom detached house and owned a car, as well as his beloved bike, should be able to have a quiet cup of coffee with some good eggs while he contemplated his day ahead. Well, that was no more the case the morning after he learned he was father to a two-year-old little girl than it was any other day.

  He glowered over the rim of his coffee cup. Once again, his three sisters had turned up uninvited, kissed their mother at her seemingly permanent position at the stove and then taken seats at his table waiting to be fed. The loud, and too often brash, tirade of conversation bounced from the walls and Scott squirmed as the hardened veneer that sealed in his frustration threatened to splinter.

  Once again, the pressure of his familial obligation rose hot and heavy in his chest, burning and clawing at his need to escape. He worked hard and as he earned more money, he planned to be free of the responsibility his absent father had dumped in his lap years before. He planned to help his mother and youngest sister get their own places so he’d have his solitude back. He planned to employ someone else to manage the garage so he’d be free to travel the world, if and when he chose to do so.

  Now it was possible that he was a father. The responsibilities had just gotten a whole lot worse.

  He curled his fingers tighter around the handle of his coffee cup. A father. The simple fact was, if what Carrie said was true, it was his own fault. They’d made love once with a condom; the second time protection had been the last thing on his mind in his eagerness to have her. He couldn’t remember her injecting any sanity or responsibility into the moment, either...

  He closed his eyes as the noise and his sisters’ presence clawed at his nerves. He took a gulp of his coffee and glared at each of them in turn.

  As much as he hated it, the perpetual feeling of suffocation gathered strength. He didn’t want his mother or sisters to change. He loved them and adored the unbreakable bond they held with each other—and him. Yet today, more than ever, he felt like a fraud.

  The resentment he harbored toward his father fought its way to the surface. He had to find a way to separate himself once and for all from the man who sired him.

  All the effort he’d put into not getting involved, not hurting a woman when she might want more than he could give...and now this.

  A father to a baby conceived in the week he’d never forgotten...with the woman he’d never forgotten. How could he deny the suffocation didn’t ease every time Carrie looked at him since she came back? She must be telling him the truth about the baby. She had no reason to lie. There was a little girl out there who’d never known him as he’d never known her.

  His mind turned to his last break-up...or rather, to the woman’s son. He liked the boy; had probably grown too attached seeing he had zero intention of settling down. No matter how much Scott told himself he finished the relationship because of the kid’s mother, he couldn’t ignore her accusations and criticisms. Amanda had made it perfectly clear she thought him no better a man to look after her son than she did the boy’s absent father.

  A sense of failure dried his throat. Maybe she had a point...but where the hell did that leave him if Carrie’s daughter was his?

  He glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. Another ten minu
tes and he’d leave to go to the hotel and pick up Carrie.

  “So it’s true, then?”

  Scott snapped his head up at his eldest sister’s voice. He met Bianca’s intelligent gaze. “What is?”

  As if joined by an invisible wavelength when one spoke, his other sisters, Ella and Lucy, stopped babbling, their faces swinging between Bianca and him like they watched a damn tennis match.

  Smiling smugly, Bianca stole a rasher of bacon from the plate on the counter, ignoring her mother when she jabbed the back of her daughter’s hand with a fork. “I saw Nick at The Oceanside last night. He asked me if you’re okay.”

  Goddamn it, Nick. You know my sisters better than to ask them that. He shrugged. “So?”

  Bianca’s smile widened. “So, why would he ask that?”

  “Didn’t you ask him?”

  Her smile faltered.

  Scott grinned. “He wouldn’t tell you, right?”

  She scowled. “Fine. Don’t tell us, then. See if your sisters care if your face looks like it’s been steamrolled and you’ve got black trash bags stuck under your eyes. If you don’t want to tell us—”

  “I don’t.” He stood sharply and the chair legs screeched against the terracotta tiles.

  Silence descended.

  Scott steadfastly met four pairs of narrowed, almost identical blue eyes and lifted his chin. “I’m going to work.”

  His mother’s wise and far too inquisitive gaze held his and his detachment wavered. His mother’s heart was his weakness; her happiness the major pull at his conscience. Was he looking at a woman who was now a grandmother?

  She stared a moment longer before nodding curtly and clapping succinctly three times. “Girls, go.” She held her arms wide, the fork she’d prodded into Bianca’s hand now swapped for a spatula. Grease steadily dripped from it onto the floor. “Breakfast’s over.”

  Cursing inwardly, Scott lowered onto his chair. If he walked out now, his mother was likely to slap him up the side of the head with that spatula. One by one his sisters rose from the table, glancing at their brother, curiosity etched on their pretty faces. None of them argued; none of them risked her mother’s wrath.

  He smiled softly, his temper cooling as laughter tickled his throat. There was nothing any of them could stand more than being out of the loop on the prospect of some juicy gossip. To add fuel to their already raging snoopiness, he lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers. “See you later, gorgeous sisters. Don’t work too hard.”

  The tension hummed as bags were whipped from chairs and files picked up from kitchen counters. Slowly, his sisters left the kitchen and filed down his narrow hallway to the front door. When it slammed, Scott let his shoulders slump and faced his mother. “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome.” She walked across the kitchen and grabbed the coffee pot and a mug. “We need to talk.”

  He stared at the woman he loved more than any other, his heart turning over. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to tell her about Carrie right then and there. Get it over and done with so he didn’t have to bear the burden alone, but to do that, without knowing for sure what Carrie said was true and the little girl she told him existed was even his, would be selfish.

  He had to be sure Belle was real and he was her daddy before he made his mother the happiest woman on earth. A grandchild. He couldn’t think of anything that would fill her soul more perfectly.

  “I’m ready whenever you are.” She sat in the chair beside him and filled her cup before topping off his. The glass pot clattered against the earthenware stand in the center of the table. She held her cup between her fingers in front of her, her gaze concerned.

  He exhaled. “I met a blast from the past yesterday.”

  “Oh?”

  “A woman.”

  His mother slowly put her cup down and leaned forward on her elbows. “And?”

  “And it’s shot me through a loop.”

  Suspicion darkened her gaze as she frowned. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

  “She’s not your average woman. She’s...she’s someone I cared for too much, too fast.”

  His mother narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Go on.”

  He shifted in his seat, indecision about how much to tell her about Carrie rippling through him. How could he explain what she meant to him when he didn’t understand it himself? How could he describe the gnawing anxiety deep in his gut that kept him awake half the night? Or how the need to kiss and touch Carrie still burned just as strong yesterday as it had before?

  Closing his eyes, he fought the impending headache pulsing at his temples. “We hooked up and she left. I never expected to see her again. Now she’s here and—”

  “There’s every possibility you’re going to care too much, too fast again?” His mother smiled and took his hand in hers. “Is that such a bad thing? You’ve built a good life, sweetheart. You deserve to find someone special to share it with. Don’t you want to get married? Have babies?”

  Scott opened his eyes, his gut tightening. “Mum—”

  She laughed. “What? Is that so bad?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then talk to me.”

  Guilt wrenched like a hook in his chest. “I’m not ready for that. Not yet. You, Bianca, Ella and Lucy are what’s important right now.”

  His mother arched an eyebrow. “And there’s not room for anything more in your life? That’s silly, Scott. Worse, as a mother, it makes me feel entirely responsible. Have we made you feel you can’t have your own life? That you have to be on call to us twenty-four-seven?”

  He closed his eyes. Making his mother feel bad was the very last thing he wanted. God damn it. This is coming out all wrong. He opened his eyes and squeezed her hand. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. What I mean is—”

  “You deserve someone, Scottie. The girls and I appreciate everything you’ve done for us...especially since your father left. But—”

  “This isn’t about him.”

  “Of course it is. You’ve looked after us for too long. You were so young when you took responsibility for this family.” She smiled and lifted her hand to his chin. “It should be your time now. Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

  The truth of her words gnawed like dog’s teeth in his heart and he slowly drew her hand from his face. “I’m fine.” He planted his hands on the table, preparing to lever up from the chair when his mother gripped his wrist.

  “Who is she?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Their gazes locked, but he stood firm under her scrutiny. Their brief conversation had heightened his impatience to see Carrie. When the time came to tell his mother everything, he needed to know what he told her was accurate and true. It was imperative he had all the answers she’d need if she was grandma to a child she never knew existed.

  “Scottie?”

  “Mmm?”

  “How come I didn’t know about this mystery woman when she was here the first time? There’s not much you can hide from me...” Comprehension lit his mother’s gaze. “Ah, unless...”

  Scott frowned. “Unless what?”

  “It was her, wasn’t it? She was the reason you changed overnight a few years ago. One minute you were going about your business and working hard, the next you were brooding over something none of us knew anything about and was tetchy as can be.”

  “I was not tetchy—”

  “You were...just like you are now.” She shook her head. “Didn’t I ask you straight if a woman was messing with your heart?”

  Scott stood. “Whether she is or isn’t, I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “Good, because I don’t want you carrying on, growling and grumping your way through one woman after another like you did back then.” She shoved back her
seat and snatched their cups from the table.

  “I did not—”

  “You did.” The crockery clattered as she placed them in the steel sink. “Do you know how many women came around here fussing and fawning over your sisters and me as though we were the way to get you to notice them?” She planted her hands on her hips. “If you like this woman, I hope to God you get on with it and she has the backbone to deal with you the right way this time.”

  The irritation simmering in his gut veered to outright annoyance. “And which way is that?”

  “With gumption. You’re a hard man to keep satisfied. You might be a man who’s looked after his family and hasn’t run off like your good-for-nothing father, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need a strong woman beside you to keep your feet under the table.” She waved her hand in the air. “These soppy, fawning, batting-eyelashes, good-for-nothing girls I’ve seen you with so far aren’t worth the polish on your boots.”

  “Well, that’s good to know because she’s different. I can guarantee you that.”

  “She is, huh?” His mother’s eyes piqued with interest, her tone softening. “I like her already.”

  Scott scowled. “Believe me, the thought of you and her in the same room is as appealing as stepping in front of a moving train right now. She’s strong, beautiful and undoubtedly a match for you and my damn sisters.” He snatched his keys from the kitchen counter. “I’ll see you later.”

  He planted a firm kiss to her cheek and left the kitchen, ignoring her knowing smile. He stormed through the hallway, whipped his jacket from the banister at the bottom of the stairs and his helmet from the beneath the coat rack. He opened the front door and slammed it behind him, gratefully inhaling lungfuls of cold, biting air. The day’s weather was the antithesis of the day before. Bright sunshine filled a clear blue sky. Not a single cloud marred its perfection, causing the temperature to plummet another few degrees.

  An interrogation from his mother was the last thing he needed, but it should’ve been expected. Worse, she now knew far more than he was comfortable with...which undoubtedly meant his sisters soon would, too. Cursing, Scott drew Carrie’s business card from his back pocket and stared at the italic scrawl for the hundredth time since last night. Producer. He clenched his jaw.