A Wedding on Bluebird Way

by Lori Wilde

Rolling over, he glanced at the bedside clock. It was twenty minutes to eight. He sat up, mouthing a curse. Harper needed to be at her condo by eight-thirty to meet the locksmith. Why hadn’t she awakened him sooner?

  He swung out of bed, splashed down in the shower, and, without bothering to shave, yanked on his jeans and a shirt, grabbed his sneakers, and hurried downstairs.

  Harper and her twins were in the kitchen. Jenny and Jessy, wearing clean play clothes, were at the table eating cereal. Harper was dressed in her peach-colored pantsuit, slightly rumpled but complete down to her high-heeled shoes. He started to give her a smile. Then he saw the cold expression on her face. Chance’s spirits sank. He should have known it would happen. She was already having regrets.

  The girls were glancing from him to their mother, as if sensing the tension between them.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Chance said, breaking the silence. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “Actually, there’s been a change of plans,” Harper said. “The police called me early this morning. They found my car. It was abandoned at a strip mall a few miles from here. They said the keys were inside, so I’ve already canceled the locksmith.”

  “Is the car all right?” Chance sat down to put on his shoes.

  “As far as I know. The officer left the keys under the floor mat, so there shouldn’t be a problem. All you’ll need to do is drive us to the car. Then you’ll be rid of us for good.”

  For good.

  Harper’s meaning was clear. As far as she was concerned, last night had never happened. Once he let her off at her car and made sure the engine would start, she planned to thank him, drive away with her girls, and never look back.

  Chance masked dejection as his plans went up in smoke. Harper had been on fire last night. What had happened to change her mind? Did it have something to do with Savannah?

  Whatever it was, he couldn’t let her leave without knowing where they stood. If there was a way to keep this wonderful woman from walking out of his life, he had to find it fast.

  “As long as the car’s not going anywhere, how about letting me take you to breakfast?” he said. “There’s a good waffle house in the neighborhood. They have great fresh strawberry waffles with whipped cream.” Chance glanced at the twins, hoping for some support.

  “Thanks, but I’m anxious to get my car back,” Harper said. “Besides, the girls are already having cereal.”

  “This cereal is yucky!” Jessy spoke up. “It’s brown, and it doesn’t have any taste.”

  “We have colored cereal at home,” Jenny said, frowning at Chance. “It tastes a lot better. You should get some for the next time we come.”

  Chance saw Harper flinch. He could guess what she was thinking. If she had her way, they wouldn’t be coming back here at all.

  “We want waffles!” Jenny said. “Please, Mommy!”

  “Please!” Jessy echoed.

  Chance met Harper’s gaze across the kitchen. “It’s up to you,” he said.

  Harper rolled her eyes. “All right. But you two have to clear the table now and clean your room when we get home. Deal?”

  “Deal!” The twins high-fived each other and jumped up to carry their unfinished cereal bowls to the sink.

  “If you’ve got some spare sheets, I’ll change the guest bed before we go.” Harper was all cool politeness. Damn it, when would he get a chance to talk to her alone?

  “Don’t bother, thanks. I’ve got people to do that. But I’d like to check Jessy’s foot before we go. We need to make sure that sting is healing all right. Sit down, Jessy.”

  “It feels lots better.” Jessy sat on a chair and held up her foot. Only then did Chance realize that he could already tell the twins apart, even without seeing their teeth.

  He unbuckled Jessy’s sandal. The swelling around the sting had gone down, leaving a flat, red dot. “Does it hurt?” he asked her.

  “It just itches a little.”

  “That means it’s getting better. You’ll be fine.”

  “Do we have to call you Dr. Worthington? Don’t you have a name?”

  “My name is Chance. If your mother doesn’t mind, you can call me Dr. Chance. Does that sound all right?” He glanced at Harper. She gave a slight nod. Ice-cold. What had he done to the woman?

  “Let’s go get waffles,” Jenny said. “Come on, everybody.”

  They trooped out to Chance’s car. Harper sat between the twins as Chance drove the five blocks to the restaurant, a new place in Serendipity with a covered patio and an open kiddie play area with swings and a slide. The Sunday morning traffic was light, the sun already too bright for Chance’s mood.

  The hour was early, and the patio tables were empty. After the server seated them, brought coffee for the grown-ups, and took their order, the girls ran to play on the swings. That gave Chance a few precious minutes alone with Harper.

  “Should we talk about this?” he asked her.

  “Why talk about it?” She stirred creamer into her coffee. “I should never have gone to bed with a man who’d just been dumped by his bride—a beautiful, intelligent woman who could still change her mind and come back. Last night was a mistake—one I don’t plan to make again.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake for me, Harper.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “I never expected you to walk into my life on my wedding day, but it happened, and I have no regrets. I know it’s too soon to talk about love, but if there’s any chance it’s out there for us, I don’t want to lose it—or you.”

  Her hand was rigid under his palm. “Then answer this question for me. What if Savannah changes her mind and comes back to you? Will you tell her the truth—that you had a meaningless one-night stand with the wedding planner?”

  “Blast it, Harper, it wasn’t—”

  “Come push me, Dr. Chance!” Jenny called. She was sitting on the swing, trying to pump, but not having much success.

  “Me too!” Jessy climbed onto the empty swing beside her.

  Chance rose with a sigh. He’d hoped to get somewhere with Harper, but so far the conversation was headed down the wrong path. Maybe they both needed a break.

  Stepping behind Jenny, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Hang on tight,” he said. “Away we go.”

  * * *

  Sipping her coffee, Harper watched Chance push her daughters in the swings, using a juggler’s skill to keep both little girls flying at a safe distance above the ground. Jenny and Jessy were squealing with delight, begging him not to stop.

  They had wanted him to push them, not their mother. It was as if, in their innocent way, they’d already given him their affection and complete trust.

  Why couldn’t it be that simple for her?

  Chance was everything she’d ever wanted. But how could she trust a man who’d walked away from his failed wedding with scarcely a sigh of regret—a man who’d made tender, passionate love to her on what would have been his wedding night?

  If life had taught her one thing, it was that men left. They left because they were bored, because they were sick of responsibility, because they’d found somebody else, or maybe just because they could. And Chance Worthington was no different from the others.

  Chance had already won her daughters’ hearts. Harper could see that they adored him. But sooner or later—perhaps because of Savannah—Chance was bound to walk away. When that happened, her precious girls would be crushed.

  She needed to protect them. She needed to stop what was happening before it was too late.

  Chapter Six

  From where he stood, Chance could see the waiter coming outside with their breakfasts on a cart. He slowed the swings, anticipating what could happen next.

  “I see our waffles!” Jenny leaped out of the swing, saved herself from a stumble, and raced back toward the patio.

  “Come on, Dr. Chance.” Jessy climbed out of her swing, took Chance’s hand in complete trust, and walked back to the patio with him.

  Now that he wa
s getting to know the two little girls, Chance was amazed at how different from each other they could be. He’d discovered something else as well. In his years as a pediatrician he had dealt with hundreds of children, giving them checkups, shots, and stitches, treating fevers and injuries, reviewing tests—all the things that were part of his job. But in all that time, until Harper’s twins came along, he had never actually played with a child. It was surprising how much he enjoyed it.

  “Hurry, Dr. Chance!” Jessy tugged at his hand. “Our waffles will get cold!”

  Harper, still looking strained, was waiting for them at the table. She took a packet of wipes out of her purse and cleaned her daughters’ hands before they were allowed to eat. The plates of waffles, piled high with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, looked delicious, but she’d ordered coffee and wheat toast for herself. Not a good sign, Chance thought. She seemed determined not to enjoy herself.

  Picking up a knife and fork, she began cutting Jenny’s waffle into bite-sized pieces. When Jessy looked up at Chance, he realized she wanted him to do the same for her. Following Harper’s example, he sliced up Jessy’s waffle before starting on his own.

  “Thank you.” She gave him an angelic smile.

  “You’re welcome.” Chance could tell that Harper had raised her girls to be polite. She was a good mother, and very protective.

  What kind of father would he be? Chance found himself wondering. Would he have the patience to put up with children full-time, especially if they weren’t his own offspring?

  But why was he asking himself that question now?

  The twins were hungry. They wolfed down their waffles and hot cocoa and raced off to play again while the grown-ups finished breakfast. Chance had eaten slowly, hoping the girls would do exactly that, giving him more time with their mother.

  “You have great kids,” he said, watching them climb the slide and zip to the bottom, squealing with laughter all the way. “You’ve raised them well.”

  “Thanks, but I can’t claim much credit,” she said. “They’ve taught me more than I’ve taught them.”

  “I know what you mean. Look how much fun they’re having. No hesitation, just going for it.”

  An unexpected image flashed through Chance’s mind: two little girls racing along the Hawaiian sand, laughing as the foamy surf tickled their feet . . . their mother lying on a towel, the sun warming her beautiful skin . . . tropic nights with the children dreaming in their beds . . .

  He willed the picture away. The idea was a crazy one. And given the way their mother felt about him, the odds against its happening weren’t worth the bet.

  “That’s what worries me,” Harper said. “My girls only know what they feel. They’re already becoming attached to you. And they haven’t been schooled by hard knocks like I have. My heart’s been broken before. I know what to expect, and I can handle it. But Jessy and Jenny don’t understand about loss and rejection, Chance. That’s why I have to end this now, before—”

  “Before somebody gets hurt? Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  Her silence answered his question.

  “Is that the plan, Harper? Never let anybody into your lives, because they might leave? Protect your daughters from heartbreak and disappointment so they won’t ever learn how to heal and move on? All this because you were hurt by a selfish jerk who didn’t know a good thing when he had it?”

  When her jaw tightened, Chance knew he’d said too much. But he’d meant every word of it.

  “Please don’t tell me how to raise my daughters,” she said. “In your practice, you deal with children day in and day out. But you’ve never been a parent. You don’t have a clue how it feels to lie awake at night, wondering how to give them what they need and how to keep them safe. Until you do, you have no right to judge me!” She crumpled her napkin, dropped it beside her plate, and rose from her chair. “I think it’s time to go and get my car. I can call a cab if you like.”

  “Don’t be silly.” He rose with her, leaving cash on the table as she crossed the patio to fetch her twins. Minutes later they were in his car, heading for the address the police had given her.

  Driving alone in the front seat, while Harper kept her children secure in the back, Chance forced himself to ask a painful question.

  Why this woman?

  After Savannah’s escape from their wedding, he’d been mobbed by attractive, eligible, and willing females. He could’ve chosen any one of them—or, more wisely, played the field for a while, enjoying the variety.

  Why was he fixed, like a heat-seeking missile, on this driven, contrary, untrusting—though lovely—woman? A woman who came with two little pixies who, charming as they were, demanded constant attention?

  Was it the challenge? Was this ready-made family something he needed in his life? No answer he could come up with made sense.

  Any man who valued his sanity and self-respect would drop Harper off at her car, drive home, and phone another woman, preferably one with no complications. But for some reason, that option didn’t hold much appeal.

  What he needed was a break, and his unused Hawaiian getaway might be just the ticket. He would tell Harper his plans, reschedule his flight, and be gone first thing tomorrow, or even sooner. When he got back, he could call her—or maybe not, if he’d come to his senses by then.

  * * *

  The strip mall where Harper’s car had been found was no more than a few minutes away. As they pulled into the parking lot, she spotted her blue Toyota sport wagon, parked at the curb outside a closed electronics store.

  “There it is!” she told Chance. “It looks all right. Drive me over there, and I’ll check.”

  Chance drove up and parked several spaces away. “You and the girls stay here,” he said. “I’ll check the car for you.”

  Before she could argue, he climbed out of his car and walked over to her Toyota. Instead of opening the door, he walked around the vehicle, crouching to peer underneath the chassis and ducking his head to look into the wheel wells. His actions puzzled Harper at first. Then she remembered a news story she’d seen on the Internet—an item about explosive devices being used to booby-trap stolen and abandoned vehicles. It had happened in Texas—twice.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Her arms tightened around her twins as she realized what was happening. Chance was checking her car to make sure it was safe.

  She held her breath as he opened the driver’s side door—something the police would have already done, she reminded herself. All the same, she could hear her heart beating as he freed the hood latch and walked around to raise the hood. For a long moment he peered into the maze of blocks, wires, and hoses. He was risking possible danger to protect her and her children, Harper realized. True, the chance of a bomb’s being in her car was remote. But he cared enough about their safety to put himself at risk. That meant something to her.

  Now that she thought of it, Chance had found her missing children, destroyed the cake they’d damaged, doctored Jessy’s foot, taken her and her children in overnight, treated them to pizza and a movie and, with her full consent, given her a memory that would make a French courtesan blush.

  In turn, she’d been a defensive, judgmental, standoffish pain in the rear.

  It was probably too late to salvage their relationship. But she owed him an apology, at least. And maybe, for the future, it was time to think about some of the things he’d told her. She’d spent a long time building walls to protect herself and her daughters. If she wanted to move beyond her past and find happiness, she would need to break those walls down.

  The problem was, she had no idea how to start.

  With the hood still up, Chance slid into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. Harper forgot to breathe as he turned it. The engine sputtered and died. On the second try, it coughed, caught, and started.

  With the engine running, he climbed out and opened the back door of his car so Harper could climb out with her children. “Your car seems
okay,” he said, “but it’s almost out of gas. There’s a station around the corner and down the block. Why don’t you follow me there? That way, you won’t miss it, and if you run out, I’ll be there to help.”

  She lifted the girls into their booster seats and made sure they fastened their own buckles. “You’ve done far too much for me, Chance. I want you to know I’m grateful.”

  His mouth twitched slightly, the only sign that he’d heard her. “Let’s get you some gas,” he said. “Follow me.”

  By the time Harper had buckled herself into her seat, he had started his car and pulled ahead of her. She drove close behind him. As they turned into the station, the engine started to sputter. The car stopped dead a few yards short of the first pump. Chance and a helpful stranger pushed it the rest of the way.

  Harper used her credit card to start the pump. While the tank was filling, she turned to Chance, who was waiting by his own car. Summoning her courage, she took a deep breath and spoke.

  “I want to apologize, Chance. For the past twenty-four hours, you’ve dropped everything to be there for us. We’ve inconvenienced you in so many ways, and you haven’t complained once.”

  She caught the hint of a twinkle in his eye. “Well, it’s not as if I had other plans,” he said. “Besides, it’s been a very entertaining twenty-four hours. Especially . . .” He let the words trail off, his meaning clear.

  Harper’s cheeks warmed. “A woman who’s been on her own as long as I have learns to keep her guard up. You didn’t deserve the awful things I said to you this morning.”

  “Then why did you say them?”

  She hesitated, her heart pounding. “I was scared, I guess. Scared of what I felt last night. Scared of being let down again—and knowing it could still happen. If you want to walk away and never see me again, I’ll understand. But if you’re willing to forgive me, I’d like to make it up to you. I’m a pretty fair cook. Would you like to come to dinner at our place tomorrow night?”

  He hesitated, frowning. Her heart sank.

  “No?” she asked.

  “I’d be happy to come. I mean, I want to. But it would have to be tonight. Tomorrow, if I can get a flight, I may be on my way to Hawaii.”