by Fredrick, MJ
Leo refused to believe he’d been manipulated. He preferred to think he’d made the choice. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
She reached over and tapped her glass to his bottle. “You’re the best.”
***
Trinity watched the easy byplay between Lily and Leo and wished she could think of something to draw his attention. Lily was such a force of nature, no way could Trinity compete.
Not that she was sure competition was such a good idea. He was damaged, widowed, distant and had more important things to worry about than a lonely spinster who longed for a family of her own.
“I’m going to play some songs on the jukebox.” Lily hopped to her feet and dragged a handful of change from her front pocket. “Maybe someone will dance with me.” She nudged Leo playfully with her shoulder as she passed.
Trinity exchanged glances with Quinn who hadn’t missed a bit of the interaction. She widened her eyes at him in a plea. He nodded, then walked around the bar to intercept Lily on her way to the jukebox.
“Do you mind, Lil? I need some help with my computer.”
“Right now?” She frowned, and looked over her shoulder at Trinity and Leo.
“Yeah, while I’m thinking about it, while I’m not that busy. Beth!” He called to the waitress. “Can you watch the bar?”
Without waiting for an answer, he led the way to his office.
“Is she really that clueless, or is she playing hard to get?” Leo asked.
“You know, I’m not really sure,” Trinity said. “She doesn’t talk about him as anything other than a friend. Maybe because she knows he’s dying to get out of her and she won’t leave. But they’re inseparable. If she’s not here, he’s hanging around the marina.”
“I get the feeling she’s using me to make him nuts. I just hope Quinn gets it, too, or he’s going to chop my hands off.”
Trinity smiled, but held in the sigh of relief. At least he didn’t seem to return Lily’s flirtation. “He might.”
“So why doesn’t he make a move?”
“Same reason she doesn’t, I suppose. He’s not sticking around.”
“So it’s more than just lust, or he wouldn’t care. Most guys don’t.”
She laughed.
He picked up his glass. “I guess I shouldn’t be talking to a preacher’s sister like that.”
“And a preacher’s daughter.” She saluted him with her own glass.
“And here you are in a bar.”
Her smile widened. “Methodist, not Baptist.”
“So you can dance, right?” He shifted to the edge of the stool.
“Um.” She glanced from his feet to the jukebox. “Sure.”
He held a hand out and she placed hers in his. A thrill ran though her at the feel of his callused palm beneath her fingers.
How long since a man has touched her, given her that smile with a glint in his eyes that relayed his interest? So maybe this was a bad idea, letting herself get excited about being in the arms of this man, a parent at her school, a man she knew too much about. But her body wouldn’t let her resist the desire.
He turned her into his arms as they reached the corner of the room that served as a dance floor. They were the only couple on it, and he held her a respectable distance, though she could feel the heat of his body, the strength of his shoulder under her palm.
“It’s been a long time since I danced,” he said by way of apology.
She wanted to pursue the statement but didn’t want to get into a discussion about his wife. “Me, either.”
“So the men around here are blind?”
“Preacher’s sister, preacher’s daughter. Pretty intimidating for most.”
“Cowards.” He smoothed his hand down to the small of her back, pulling her close enough to spin her around.
“And you aren’t afraid of anything, right? I mean, you’ve been to Afghanistan and Iraq, in the thick of the fighting. How can anything scare you after that?”
He lowered his head. “Scared to death right now.” But he spun her again, belying his words. She held on to his arms and let her head fall back.
When she lifted her head and looked at him, he was holding her closer, his breath warm on her lips, his eyes—no man had looked at her like that in so long. She lifted her hand from his shoulder and let it hover, for a moment, near his jaw, then let it fall back to his arm. God, she wanted to kiss him. What a mistake that would be. What a wonderful, wonderful mistake.
She couldn’t take her gaze from his lips, even though she was aware of the message she was sending.
The song ended, and no more music was forthcoming. Leo released her and guided her back to the bar, now under Quinn’s control. He ordered two more beers, but Trinity waved hers away.
“I’m driving. In fact.” She reached for her purse looped over the back of her chair. “I had a really early start, so I’m going to head out. Thanks, Leo, for agreeing to make those calls. And for the dance.” She’d never used his name before, and it felt a bit awkward.
“I’ll walk you out.” Leo pushed his half-drunk glass back toward Quinn and stood. “Early morning for me—going fishing with Dad and Max.”
Trinity nodded. “Max loves it. I’ve seen them head down to the dock the past few weeks, since the ice-out. Your dad is great with him.”
Leo realized he hadn’t seen much of his dad interacting with Max. “I guess that’s the way with grandkids. You feel like you get a second chance, maybe.”
“Some people don’t waste their first chance.”
He knew she was warning him not to make that same mistake, but flinched at the truth of her words nonetheless. They said their good nights to Quinn and Lily and walked out the door.
“Where’s your car?” Trinity asked when they stepped out into the gravel parking lot.
“I walked, to give my mother peace of mind.”
“What a good son. Get in, I’ll drive you home.”
He crossed to the passenger door of her Camry. “I live—”
“Leo, this is Bluestone. I know where just about everyone lives.”
“Right.” He opened the door and folded himse into the car. “Not used to being down so low.”
She started the engine. “Trying to be environmentally responsible here.”
“Hey, mine is the greenest SUV on the market.”
“Not saying much,” she said with a smile as she backed out of the parking lot. “So do you like fishing?”
“I—look forward to spending time with my son and my dad. The fishing bit…not so much. I like boats, though.”
“Motor boats, I bet. Going fast, skimming across the water.”
“Yep. You?”
She glanced over. “I like motor boats, too.”
“Well, then.”
The tone of his voice warmed her, but she had no idea what he’d been going to say next because she pulled up in front of his house. Stupid small towns. She shifted into park, and he leaned down to peer at the house through the windshield. The porch light and living room light were blazing.
“Mom was worried I wouldn’t find my way home, I guess.”
“Moms are like that.”
“Thanks for the ride.” He leaned over and before she realized what he was doing, she turned toward him.
The kiss meant for her cheek caught half of her mouth, and she gasped in surprise. He drew back just a little as she wished for the floorboard to open up and let her escape with her humiliation. Instead, she was trapped as the look in his eyes shifted, became something else, something that sent a thrill of alarm and anticipation through her. He curved his hand around the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair, as he drew her forward and angled his lips over hers.
His lips were soft and dry as they brushed over hers once, twice, then settled over her mouth, taking advantage of her soft sigh. His thumb caressed her temple as his tongue teased the seam of her lips, dipping inside, filling her with the yeasty taste of beer and the warmth of him. Sh
e lifted her hands to his shoulders, then his jaw, her palm caressing the stubble there, before gliding back into the short hair at the back of his neck.
Her elbow hit the horn briefly, enough to jolt them both back into reality. He pulled back, his fingers trailing in the ends of her hair, the look on his face one of regret—that he’d kissed her or that he’d stopped, she didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.
He opened the door and swung his long legs out. “Good night, Trinity. Be careful.”
She managed a nod, and forced herself to drive away instead of watching him approach the house.
Maybe he was the perfect man to get involved with. He was sexy and he wanted her, and he wouldn’t be around long.
Then she wouldn’t have to tell him about her daughter.
Chapter Five
Leo rested his head against the side of the boat, his cap pulled over his eyes, and listened to the silence around him. Other than the occasional murmur by his father or Max, the only sounds were the birds, the water slapping the hull and the occasional other boater powering out farther onto the lake. He’d tried conversation, only to be shut down by the other two generations. So he stretched out in the sun, hat pulled low, and thought about Trinity.
He sure as hell hadn’t planned to kiss her last night. He didn’t know what made him lean to kiss her cheek—he wasn’t a cheek-kisser. But he’d felt he needed to do something, and when she turned, well, all bets were off. He’d loved feeling her hands on his skin, in her hair, and could have kissed her for hours, because once she overcame her surprise, wow. He’d used all his self-control so he didn’t drag her across the console and onto his lap. Wouldn’t do for the reverend’s sister to be caught necking in a car.
Everything about his impulse was wrong. He had to concentrate on Max, she worked with Max. She knew everything about him and he knew nothing about her, except she was gorgeous and generous and kissed like a fantasy. He could ask Lily, maybe, but wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal that much about himself.
Besides, he wasn’t sticking around. He didn’t want a relationship.
He’d been with a couple of women since Liv died, he wasn’t going to lie, but nothing serious, nothing more than a night, a release. But Trinity was different, drew him in a different way that he couldn’t identify and didn’t want to consider. And he had no business getting involved with her. But he couldn’t think of anything else.
“Dad! Dad! You got a bite!” Max snatched the hat from Leo’s eyes and Leo squinted against the sudden brightness. Max’s expression was more animated than Leo had seen it since he’d been back—since...too long.
Leo curled into a sitting position, apparently much slower than Max wanted. The boy pulled on his arm until he got to his feet and approached his wobbling pole. Max didn’t let go as he picked up the pole and felt the unfamiliar wriggling.
“Like this, Dad, like this.”
Max dragged Leo’s hands into position on the rod and lent his slight strength to help him tease the fish along, let the line play out, then reel it in. With his son’s help, the memories returned, the thrill of the catch. Max was laughing, the most beautiful sound in the world as the fish flashed above the surface of the water. The fish sensed freedom and dove. Max lunged for the pole and helped Leo pull the fish up. The three of them watched it dangle in the sunlight before Leo reeled it in, swinging the end of the pole over the deck, where Max hopped happily, hanging on Leo’s arm.
“It’s a big one, Dad! Wow!”
“Get the camera,” Leo’s dad said, and Max bolted for the Canon he kept in his knapsack.
“Hold it by your face, Dad,” Max instructed, holding the complicated-looking instrument in front of his face.
“You know how to use that thing?” Leo teased.
“Dad. I’m nine. Of course. Smile.”
Leo did as he was instructed and listened for the clicks as he watched his son’s small fingers play with levers and buttons, adjust lenses, just as he’d seen his own cameramen do. His grin widened, then when Max would put the camera away, he stopped him.
“Let Grandpa take a picture of both of us. You helped, right?”
He saw a moment of hesitation, then Max nodded and shoved the camera at his grandpa. Leo refused to let his eyes mist as Max snuggled against him for the picture, his small hand closing over Leo’s on the line. He faced his grandpa and Leo could sense his pride.
“Got some good ones.” His dad lowered the camera, his own eyes misty.
“Time to let him go.” Max pulled away and reached for the fish.
Leo watched his son carefully and deftly remove the hook from the fish and toss the creature back into the lake. Pride swelled and he ruffled his boy’s hair.
They went home for lunch. They sky clouded up and threatened rain, so Leo drove Max to Target and bought a gaming console. They spent the rest of the day playing bowling and skiing, which his mother thought was ridiculous. But Max was happy and Leo would do anything to keep that smile on his face.
“Don’t spoil him. That’s not going to do any good,” his mother chided when Leo was cleaning the dishes after dinner.
“One day like this isn’t going to spoil him.”
“There will be limits on that video game in my house, you know?”
“For me, or him?” Leo teased.
Nora folded her arms and leveled her no-nonsense look at her son. “What are you going to do, Leo? Are you moving here? Are you going to go back overseas?”
“I don’t know, Mom.” Leo set the last dish in the drainer and leaned on the counter, dishtowel wadded in his hand. “I haven’t even been back a week. I’m still trying to figure things out. Yes, he’s lonely, yes, I see that he’s unhappy a lot of the time, but the kid lost his mother.”
“Two years ago. He should miss her, but he’s just—I’m worried for him, that he feels abandoned.”
By him. Yes, he knew. That was why he was here, wasn’t it? And his mother wanted to know if he was going to stay. He didn’t want to lie to her, but didn’t know the truth, not yet.
“I came here. That’s all I’m ready to decide yet.” He really needed to talk to his editor about that leave of absence.
His mother set her jaw in a way that reminded him of Max. “You should give him his bath.”
Leo draped the drying towel over the rack. “He told me he doesn’t want anyone to give him a bath any more, that he can do it himself.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “Then see that he does it and cleans up after himself.”
Leo turned to leave the room, then swung back to her. “Do you and Dad go to church on Sundays?” They hadn’t when he was a kid, but people changed as they grew older.
Her head snapped up. “No, why?”
Because he wanted to see the Methodist reverend’s sister. “No reason. Just wondering how early I needed to get up tomorrow.”
“Not as early as today, though I do like to make a nice breakfast.”
His mother was an excellent cook and he looked forward to breakfast but was oddly disappointed as he walked upstairs to corral Max into the tub.
***
After yesterday’s rains, Sunday was beautiful. Trinity tried her best not to fidget in the first row during the church service. Her brother must have seen something, though, because he cast a stern look in her direction as she sat beside her parents. She felt nine years old again, every nerve bouncing as they’d done since Friday night.
Leo had kissed her. Okay, it had been an accident, but then he’d really kissed her, and it had been everything she’d hoped, sexy and filled with longing. He was the wrong man for her, but not seeing him yesterday, while she helped her mother clean the house, was torture. And of course he wouldn’t be here because he wasn’t the church-going type. He was the type to see church-going as a weakness.
Still, to make sure, she glanced over her shoulder. As usual, Quinn stood alone in one of the pews, hands folded in front of him as he looked straight ahead. Quinn was one of two men
who wore a suit to church—he and her father. She was always too intimidated to ask Quinn, who was ordinarily in a T-shirt, flannel and jeans, why he didn’t dress like everyone else. This was one time she didn’t see him with Lily, who went to the Catholic church in Winston.
Her mother tapped her knee and she turned around, trying not to heave a sigh as her brother went on and on about discipleship. She should be paying attention, but her gaze drifted to the glowing stained glass window. Not for the first time, she wondered if churches used stained glass windows not to inspire, but to keep parishioners from seeing what they were missing outside.
Finally the service concluded and everyone exited. Since her brother wasn’t married, she and her parents joined him on the steps to greet the departing parishioners.
The sound of a man calling, “Max!” drew her attention to the baseball diamond adjacent to the church. She twisted to see, then leaned on the rail to watch Leo position his son at home plate, angling the bat just so, modeling a swing, before trotting out to the pitcher’s mound and tossing a soft pitch. Max swung too early, so Leo came forward, collected the ball, made adjustments to Max’s stance, pointing on the bat to where the ball should be before Max swung.
Before she knew what she was doing, Trinity crossed the church yard, her heels sinking a bit in the grass. “Need a catcher?” she called.
Leo straightened and stared. She slowed, suddenly self-conscious. She must make an odd picture, coming to play ball in her new mint-green sleeveless dress and heels, but she couldn’t resist. Leo’s welcoming grin told her she hadn’t made a mistake.
“Wouldn’t you rather go home and change?” he asked, though his eyes lit with appreciation at the v-neck of her dress.
She kicked her shoes to the side as she took her place behind where home plate should be. “Really not. Don’t swing back too far, Max. I don’t want to be clocked in the head.”
“Here, take my glove.” Leo tossed it in her direction and she caught it, then slid her hand into the leather, warm from his hand.