A Second Chance at Love: A Hometown Hero Series Novel

by Connelly, Clare

  Why had he seduced her? She’d come to talk and he’d thrown himself at her.

  “Yeah, Madeline. I want you to go. Take your married self out of my house.”

  When they’d been dating, and they’d been in love, Madeline would have challenged him to be reasonable. To understand her predicament. But eight years had changed them. Not their chemistry. Them. Inherently, they were different people. Harrison Samson had a streak of bitterness that had never been there, and he was older, more cynical, and less forgiving. He was jaded, now.

  And so was she.

  Once, Madeline would have believed that it would all work out for them, simply because she loved him. But now? Now she had to accept that life didn’t guarantee happy endings. She couldn’t get everything she wanted with Harrison, but she could get out of his life, and keep Diana safe from prosecution.

  She lifted her chin in a defiant angle. “I’m truly sorry that we’ve come to this, Harrison. What we were… that deserved better.” She put a hand on his and stood on tiptoes, kissing his cheek.

  Then, she walked out, leaving him furious and perplexed, staring after her beautiful, brave silhouette.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Are you listening, Harrison?”’

  He continued staring at his screen, but the numbers weren’t coming into focus. Routine traffic stop statistics had never been his favourite thing to analyse, but it was an essential part of his job. The county was small, and the troopers understaffed.

  “Sorry, Diana, I’m not.” He shook his head and turned to face his mother. In her late forties, she was youthful and attractive. Her hair was piled into a loose knot on top of her head, and her dark eyes were searching. “You might have noticed the big ‘Police’ sign when you walked into the building? You see, this is where I work. I can’t just take a break because a whim blew you by.”

  She compressed her bright lips in disapproval. “I beg your pardon, Harrison Samson, you might be a grown man now but that doesn’t give you the right to sass me.”

  His lips quirked into the closest thing to a smile he’d felt in days. Since Madeline had left his home, and he’d been tormented by hard, cold guilt at his actions. He’d taken her. He’d wanted her, and he’d taken her, even though he’d known it was wrong. She was someone else’s, but he’d stormed over his own objections, and hers, and he’d remembered how damn great they were.

  Only she hadn’t objected.

  And that made him feel worse. For some reason, if she’d fought against the attraction they still shared, he would have felt better. As though eight years apart had made sense.

  But she’d fallen back into him, as though no time had passed. As though being with him was the only thing she cared about.

  He suppressed a groan and tried to pay attention to his mother’s constant stream of information.

  “… so I’ll be in the kitchen tonight, just helping out while Janice gets her leg seen to. Who would have thought a healthy twenty two year old could get arthritis?”

  He nodded, though his interest was fading fast. “Uh huh. Yes. Terrible.” He looked longingly at his computer, actually keen to return to the stats.

  “Harrison, you aren’t paying attention. What’s got into you?”

  “Nothing!” He shrugged. “So you’re working at the diner tonight?”

  “Yes. But I’ll still be able to have Ivy until your shift finishes. I’ll pick her up from school and bring her to the restaurant.”

  “Thanks, Diana.”

  She boxed his head playfully. “When did you stop calling me mom, huh?”

  His smile was thin. “Is there anything else?”

  She sighed in exasperation. “What the heck’s got into you?”

  He picked a pen up and twirled it in his fingers, effortlessly pirouetting it from one finger to his thumb. Diana didn’t take her eyes from her son’s face.

  “Did you hear that old man Bartlett’s sick?” He said, finally, not meeting his mother’s eyes.

  She perched on the edge of his desk. “Yes. I did hear. What’s it to you, Harrison? What’s it to me?” Diana had loved Madeline as a daughter. But she could never forgive her for the way she’d treated Harrison. The poor man had been basically a child then. Twenty three with all his hopes bundled into that one girl. And she’d thrown those hopes in his face and fled, without so much as a backwards glance, even to make sure he was going okay. At least he had Ivy, though Diana knew he blamed himself for Sally’s death. Poor Harrison. Such a strong man, in many ways, but hurting so much too.

  He ran his fingers over his stubbled chin, stroking it in thought. “She ran into Ivy.” He flicked a quick glance at his mother. “Madeline. She’s back.”

  “I see.”

  “Yeah.” It was a grunt, loaded with his frustrations.

  “And?”

  “And what, mother? She’s married. What we shared was… done years ago.”

  “Really, Harrison?”

  “You’re forgetting about Sally. And Ivy.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m remembering with perfect clarity. And I know there’s only ever been one woman who could set your heart racing.”

  He shook his head. “Melodramatic wishful thinking. Besides, even if that were true – which it isn’t – she’s been married for years now. She didn’t want me eight years ago, and she sure as heck wouldn’t want me now.”

  “I don’t care what Madeline wants, Harrison. I’m probably the only person who has as much reason to hate her as you.” She put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “For what she did to you. For how she treated you. So I couldn’t care what happens to her.” It hurt her to say those words. “But that girl has a singular ability to drive you ‘round the twist. And I know she’ll do it. Just to give herself a laugh. So if you want my advice,” and she could see by his expression that he didn’t, “you’ll steer clear of her. She’s trouble, son. Always has been, for you.”

  * * *

  Madeline pulled the door inwards with a blank expression on her face. A steady stream of her father’s acquaintances had been visiting all day. Word had spread that the great Kenneth Bartlett was in his last days. Kenneth had many sides to his personality. To Maddie, he was cruel, cold, vicious, harsh and calculated. To KB, he was demanding, expectant, proud and critical when anything less than perfection was achieved. To Arielle, he was everything. But to most of the world, who saw only his professional self, he was a proud, intelligent elder statesman, fiercely intelligent and unstintingly moral.

  Those people, who saw that side of him, were saddened by the news that his death was imminent, and seemed intent on paying their respects. It fascinated Madeline, this steady progression of mourners, who seemed to feel so much more than she – his own daughter.

  The door was swollen from rain, so she had to give it an extra bit of muscle to get it swinging inwards. Her light blue eyes lifted from the highly polished shoes, and then she cried out in delight, when they landed on the handsome face of her best friend. Her husband.

  “Dean!” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him enthusiastically. “Oh! Thank God you’re here! I know I told you not to come, but I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my whole life!”

  He was taken aback by the unusual display of emotion from his generally unflappable wife, but he returned her hug and kissed her forehead. “Hey, baby,” he said quietly. “I was worried about you. Your last few texts were flat.”

  She winced. “It’s a mausoleum here.”

  He nodded. “I can imagine.” He lifted a hand and ran it down her arm. “How’s Kenneth?” His voice dropped a perceptible degree of warmth, and it brought Maddie pleasure. They both felt the same way about her father. It was the reason their marriage had worked so well, initially.

  “Hanging in there,” she said without emotion.

  “Tough old bugger.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “And you? Are you coping?”

  She bit down on her lip and dr
opped her gaze. “I’ve got a problem,” she whispered.

  Dean had only seen his wife visibly upset once before. It was the day she’d returned from Whitegate, seven years earlier, and found out that her ex had picked up a pregnant lover. She’d been able to fool most people at the party they had attended, but Dean had known her better by then. He’d seen beyond the polished smile to the pained eyes and pallor of her skin.

  “I’ll get Colin to take my bags in. Why don’t we go into town? I haven’t eaten all day, but I passed a quaint looking restaurant overlooking the water.”

  Madeline knew it well. It was the restaurant Sally had worked in. “Sure. I’ll grab my bag.” She reached up and spontaneously kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I am too.”

  With every moment she spent beside Dean, she felt like she was getting a grip on her old self. It was a short drive into town. Despite being a Friday evening, the diner was not too busy. The waitress led them to a table at the front, tucked near a window. The frost had set, and the window had icy little strips along the base. The ocean seemed to churn with the expectation of a frigid night.

  “What’s going on?” Dean cut to the chase, leaning forward and taking her hand in his.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know where to begin. I feel… awful.”

  “What is it, Mads?”

  She broke away from him to smile at the approaching waitress. “A mineral water, please.”

  Dean shook his head. “And a bottle of,” he scanned a finger down the wine list, frowning at the poor selection. He landed on the most expensive red they offered, “the merlot.”

  The waitress stuffed her pen behind her ear and sashayed through the tables, leaving Madeline free to return her attention to Dean. She was wearing a simple black dress, a pearl choker, and her hair had been set in waves around her face. Her lipstick was bright red, her eyes lined in the kohl pencil that was her signature look.

  “You look good,” he observed dispassionately.

  The waitress shuttled back with the wine and placed it between them. She’d forgotten the mineral water, but Madeline no longer cared. She watched as Dean poured two measures into the glasses, then slid one across the shiny timber table top. He was in the Armani scarf she’d given him the Christmas before, and the taupe color complimented his dark hair.

  “Thanks. I feel like hell.”

  He nodded sympathetically. “Your brother still not back?”

  “No. KB has very cleverly invented reasons to stay away. He’ll make it in time to have a dignified farewell, and that will be all anyone remembers.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I wish I’d been so smart.”

  “You’re too good for that. It’s right that you’re here.” Dean was the only person on earth who knew why she’d left Harrison. Well, Dean and Kenneth. She’d figured she could trust him to keep the secret, and he had done so. “Though I don’t know how you can stand to be in the same room as him.”

  “I hardly have been,” she responded drily, sipping her merlot.

  “And? What’s got you so worked up then?”

  She closed her eyes, as a memory of being handcuffed by Harrison came flooding back to her on a tide of guilty desire. “I came face to face with my past, and I did not win the encounter.” She grimaced, shaking her head in a way that made her blonde hair lift and fall prettily about her shoulders.

  “Your past? As in, your ex? Harrison?”

  “Yeah. Harrison.” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

  He frowned. “Whatever for?”

  “I… we… I didn’t mean to … but we…” She had another sip of her wine. “Three nights ago. We slept together.”

  He laughed softly, and reached over to pad his thumb across her hand. “I’m glad to hear it, baby. Why do you seem guilty?”

  She flushed, and lifted her eyes to his face. “It’s cheating.”

  “Come on, Mads. Our marriage is a con job. We both went into it with that expectation. You know I’ve seen other people. David and I have been dating on and off for two years. Why the heck do you think I’d mind that you’ve reunited with your ex?”

  “I know. It’s stupid. It’s just… it’s such a mess. I don’t know how I should feel, or how I should behave.”

  Dean stood and switched to the chair beside her, so that he could put an arm around her shoulders and speak more privately. “You love him?”

  “No!” She denied hotly. “I mean, maybe. I used to love him, and it’s hard to just forget that, right?”

  “But now? How did you feel when you saw him?” She closed her eyes as the swift sense of falling down a deep, dark hole came back to her.

  “Helpless,” she said on a slow breath. “Like I was twenty again, and he was my whole world.”

  Dean had felt a weight of obligation to Madeline for a long time. She’d been invaluable at keeping his closeted life just how he wanted it – out of the public eye. But the heavy suspicion that he’d robbed her of something far more valuable than he had gained was growing like a weed in his gut. “And him?”

  “The same as I remember. But stronger. Angry, too.” She blinked quickly, to clear the mental imagery of him punching a whole through his drywall in a fit of temper. “He has a daughter. Ivy. She’s just like the mother.”

  “The mother? The woman you met?”

  “In this very bar,” she nodded with a twist of her lips. “Yes.”

  “And where’s she?”

  “Dead.” She put a head on his shoulder. “It’s awful. Completely unfair. She died shortly after childbirth, apparently.”

  “Hell,” he muttered, shaking his handsome head. Madeline couldn’t help comparing him, in that moment, to the man she had loved. There was no denying that Dean Howard was beautiful. He was polished and groomed, and always stylish. But Harrison was… rugged. Untamed and unpolished, always with the minimal grooming. Just enough to be neat and clean, but not so much as to be fashionable. His hair was a little longer than it should be, his stubble not left to impress, but rather left because he was too busy to attend to something as mundane as shaving every day. Harrison dressed like a man who saw clothes as a necessity rather than a pleasure. He donned whatever he had – usually jeans and a button up shirt. And yet he managed to look completely drool-worthy all the time.

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Regardless of what’s going on between you and Harrison, that’s a tragic circumstance.”

  “I know,” she agreed quietly, her pale eyes shimmering with sadness at the very idea. “But he loved her. He’d proposed to her. She apparently said no.”

  “No? Why?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. What I care about is what Harrison wanted. And if he’d had his way, they would have been happily married.”

  “So that makes you… cautious?” He guessed, scanning her face for clues.

  “It makes me angry.” She lifted her glass again and drank almost the whole thing. “I mean, he’s acting all wounded and pissed at me, but he completely made a new life for himself.”

  “As did you,” Dean pointed out with an ironic lift of his brow.

  “I had no choice.” She put a hand on his. “Sorry, I don’t mean that.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We neither of us had a choice. But I think we made the best of it regardless.”

  Madeline nodded. “You’re the best fake husband I could have dreamed of.”

  “What a shame our divorce is imminent,” he said with a lift of his brows.

  She laughed. “I am going to miss that gorgeous Pennsylvania Avenue pad, let me tell you.”

  “It’s yours. Anytime you want it.”

  Madeline’s cheeks were pink. “We might be the only couple who can genuinely say that our divorce is amicable, you know.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps.”

  A blur of color caught Madeline’s attention, for it was hurtling across the restaurant. It took Madeline a moment to see beyond the silver snap back, pink du
ffle coat, purple tutu and yellow boots. “Ivy,” she whispered, spinning her wedding band nervously.

  “The kid?” Dean asked quietly, his dark chocolate eyes scanning the restaurant for a man following behind.

  “Hey, kiddo.” He had to admire the way Madeline got herself so completely under control. A life of faking emotions would do that to a woman though. She appeared utterly serene as she looked at the little girl. Her smile was full and friendly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, just hangin’ out,” she said happily, taking up Dean’s seat opposite the pair.

  “Just hanging out, huh?” Madeline asked, hiding her smile.

  “Who’s this?” Ivy tilted her head towards Dean.

  “Ivy Samson, this is Dean Howard, my husband.”

  She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I hear you know the President.”

  Dean laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. “I do indeed. I happen to play golf with him when he has the time.”

  “You do?” Her dark eyes were enormous saucers in her sweet face. “Oh, wow. That must be terrifying.”

  “Only when I win,” he said with a wink.

  Madeline felt relaxed for the first time in days. She sat back in her chair, saying nothing when Dean topped up her wine glass, despite the fact she rarely had more than a single glass.

  “Why? Does he get mad?”

  Dean, enjoying himself, shook his head. “It’s not him I worry about. It’s the secret service.”

  “Oh! Are they scary? Are they everywhere?”

  “Everywhere!” He nodded. “In fact,” he reached across Madeline, so that he could tap on the window pane. “That’s one out there.”

  At the rat-tat-tat sound, Colin turned around and scanned the restaurant. He lifted a hand in a wave, in response to Dean’s obviously casual greeting.

  “You guys are totally awesome,” Ivy enthused happily. “What do you do? How do I get to do it too?”

  Dean laughed. “Well, I’m in congress.”