“Sit here and talk to me.” Olivia smiled, reaching for some spices in the cupboard.
He pulled out a chair and sat. Tom handed him a cup of coffee. Before Tom could sit, his cell phone rang. After a brief conversation, he left. Bret gathered he was going to meet Chad and Robin in the driveway to help unload the food they were bringing.
He sat next to Olivia at the counter as she prepared a chicken and bacon dish for the oven.
“Did you enjoy the dance last night?”
Enjoy would never be the right word. “It had its moments.”
She laughed. “What does that mean?”
He knew what she was hoping for. A tidbit about his love life. Anything that would give her a reason to meddle. She did it all the time with her grandkids and it seemed he was fair game as well. He sipped his coffee, stalling until an acceptable answer occurred to him. “I learned how to make Myrtle Jenkins’s cheese dip.”
She snorted. “I make better.”
“No doubt.”
She gave him the eye, but he stared calmly back at her. Time to practice nonchalance instead of remembering how soft Meg’s lips had been, how warm and firm.
Clearing his throat, he went on the offensive. “You left early. So did I.”
“You didn’t stay for the Sweetheart Dance or an after-dance kiss from some pretty girl?” Olivia raised a brow, inviting him to confide.
Yes, your granddaughter.
Bret raised a brow back at her. Two could play this game. “You didn’t stay for a midnight kiss from some dapper gentleman?”
She chortled and then her expression turned wistful. “My Thomas was enough for me. Attended that dance for thirty-two years with him and got kissed every year at midnight, I did. I’ll stick to kissing my great-grandkids now.”
Bret smiled, intrigued at her memories. Thirty-two years? With one person? “I’m happy keeping my lips to myself for the time being.”
“Well, that makes Bret a dull boy.”
“No. That makes Bret a smart boy.”
She gave him an exasperated frown. “Don’t you want a wife and family some day?” She rolled the final piece of chicken in the spices, wrapped it in bacon and put it on the pan.
No. I don’t.
But she wouldn’t believe him. Most women didn’t.
“Not right now,” he finally hedged.
“You haven’t met her yet,” she assured him. “When you do, you’ll be sure.”
He could see by the shining in her eyes and the set of her mouth she believed her statement, but he didn’t.
She studied him a moment, then sighed. “You’re a hard one, but your time will come.”
“If you say so.” Bret reached for a chip from the appetizer tray on the counter. He popped one in his mouth, hoping that chewing would end this line of conversation. He started to ask her about the high school basketball team, a subject sure to get her off on a tangent, but he was interrupted.
“Grandma, where are you?” Two little girl voices yelled from the front of the house.
“In the kitchen, dears.” She gave him the evil eye.
He exhaled carefully, invisibly. Saved by the twins. Thank God. Olivia wouldn’t be happy unless he said he was resolving to be married by the Fourth of July!
Two identical red-haired little girls bounced into the kitchen, their arms full of food for dinner. He hadn’t seen them since Christmas Eve when their mom had married Chad.
“Hi, Officer Cara.”
Bret looked from one twin to the other. He had no idea which one he was talking to.
“Boo.” She pointed at her freckles.
He struggled to figure out what to say to the little girl. He looked over at Olivia for help, but she had her hands full with Boo’s sister, Lindy, and was getting an earful about something one of the cats had done. Olivia went to the refrigerator with Lindy trailing behind to put the contents of her sack inside, too far away to save Bret.
“Hi, Boo. How are you?”
“Great. I got a Daddy for Christmas.” She gave him a big toothless grin.
“Yes, I know. I was there.” He hadn’t really wanted to be. He hated weddings. Meg had looked beautiful as Robin’s maid of honor, though.
Boo fingered the barrettes in her hair. “Where’s Aunt Meg? I want to show her my hair. She gave me these for Valentine’s Day.”
“Not here yet.” He eyed the preening girl and her shoulder-length red-hair. She seemed to be waiting for something. He studied her for a second, then realization dawned. “Ah, they look nice.”
She turned one way and then the other. “Don’t they make me look pretty?”
He frowned. How in the hell was he supposed to answer that? They made her look nice, like he already said. What now?
She cocked her head, a small huff coming out of her mouth.
“Yes, you’re beautiful.” He barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.
Finished at the refrigerator, Lindy joined them. At least her hair was in a ponytail so he wouldn’t have to comment. Olivia went into the dining room with a plate, presumably to set it on the table, but she didn’t come back.
“Like my shoes?” Lindy lifted her foot. Her tennis shoes were neon pink with lights in the soles and black shoelaces. They looked like Pepto Bismol on speed laced with licorice.
He fumbled with something to say, an itching need to escape making him squirm. “Nifty. They’re you.”
He was saved from further conversation when Robin entered the room, followed by Tom. The girls flew to Tom and took his hands.
“Uncle Tom, will you help us get some sodas?”
“Split one, girls.” Robin set a hot casserole dish on the stovetop.
Tom led the girls to the refrigerator and sorted through its contents for a drink. He was at ease with the girls, as if they were his own. What would it be like to be that easy around children?
Mouth-watering smells of lasagna and garlic permeated the kitchen. His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since last night’s dance.
“Hi, Bret.” Robin loosened her coat and pulled it off, hanging it over the back of a kitchen chair. She brushed off her jeans and pulled down the long sleeves of her dark green shirt.
He smiled. “Hi, yourself. The twins seem happy.”
“Oh, believe me, they are. Daddy this, daddy that.” She grinned. “It’s nice. Where’s Meg?”
He shrugged, masking his annoyance. What was with everyone asking him about Meg?
“I don’t know. She’s not here yet.” He kept the edge off his tone. Barely.
Robin raised her eyebrows for a second. “Okay.”
Maybe he hadn’t been as successful with his tone as he’d thought. He was saved from having to apologize when Chad entered the kitchen. The tall farmer carried two cases of pop and an apple pie. Robin crossed to him and relieved him of the pie, kissing him as she did so.
Another thread of jealousy slipped through Bret, but he banished it like he did every time he saw a couple kiss. Was it getting more frequent lately? Or was it that this family was so affectionate, lowering his defenses?
Chad crossed to Bret and offered his hand. “How are you?”
“Good.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Where’s Meg and my parents?”
He sighed, resigned. “Not here yet. Aren’t Tara and Rick and their kids coming?”
Chad shook his head and shrugged out of his coat. “In-laws. Abilene.” Picking up Robin’s jacket, he took both coats from the room.
“Darn it, I left our wedding pictures in the car.” Robin hurried from the room.
“Can we watch TV, Uncle Tom?” Lindy asked.
“Sure, let me carry your Coke for you and I’ll set it up.” The girls trailed after him as he left the kitchen.
Bret looked around the empty room. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. It had gone cold during all the entrances and exits. He rose, walked to the refrigerator and took out a can of Dr. Pepper. The kitchen was painted daffodil yellow a
nd even in the gray day, it glowed. If he wasn’t in such a foul mood, the color would have settled him some. Filled with green plants and knickknacks, the room gave off the feeling of falling into a down bed when really tired—the comfort level soothing. The countertops overflowed with food. Colored pictures from Olivia’s great-grandchildren covered the refrigerator front. The space screamed family and love. Even though he’d been coming to dinner for years, he still got twitchy. But he couldn’t stop coming. His relationship with Tom and Olivia was more important than his discomfort.
The back door opened. He swung around. The door slammed against the wall and Meg elbowed into the room, her hands full with a Crock-Pot and purse. She froze in the doorway for half a second. Her face flushed bright red.
So much for the avoidance plans. There was nothing to done about it. He stepped forward to take the dish from her. Unfortunately, he was unable to quit staring, remembering the feel of those berry-colored lips against his. His dreams of her against him lured like a food craving in the middle of the night.
Bret cleared his throat, trying to figure a way to get the Crock-Pot without touching her.
“You don’t need to be such a jerk.”
He pulled the pot from her hands, seeing a storm brewing in her eyes. “What?”
“You know what! If you’re waiting for me to apologize, I won’t.” She dumped her purse on a chair.
“I don’t expect an apology. You were drunk.”
“Shhh!” She glanced around the kitchen, checking both doorways.
He set the dish on the counter and lowered his voice. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t think I do.” She tossed her coat to a chair with enough force to knock it over. She set it upright and shoved it against the table.
He stifled a sigh. This was why he had wanted to avoid her. His discomfort level spiked into the red zone. “Alcohol will sometimes make you do things you wouldn’t ordinarily do is all I was trying to say.”
“Really?” She eased closer until she was an arm’s length away, her perfume wrapping around him in a spicy, control-wrecking haze.
“Look, you don’t normally drink. It was a onetime thing. It won’t happen again, right? There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
Her face screwed up with an emotion he couldn’t name. She flushed again, her eyes vivid in their blueness. She stepped closer to him and slammed her mouth against his.
Surprise made him open his mouth, which Meg took advantage of, the little she-devil. Her tongue brushed against his and he was lost. Somehow, one hand slipped to her waist. He pulled her against him. The other found its way into her hair, the blonde locks sifting through his fingers, reminiscent of the satin sheets from his dreams. She tasted of coffee and chocolate—two of his favorite flavors. He moaned, or maybe she did, and his control snapped.
He twisted, trapping her between his body and the counter, and besieged her mouth. Tongues and lips dueled for control. He wasn’t sure who won. Her breasts brushed his chest, shooting off an ardent message to his groin. Her hands gripped his butt, pulling his hips against hers, locked in a union that beckoned for completion.
He wasn’t sure how far the insanity would have gone, except the swinging door squeaked only moments before he heard a voice.
“Whatcha doing?” Boo bounced into the room.
He jerked several steps away from Meg who swayed, then righted herself. She cleared her throat and pulled down her shirt. Her hair was tangled and her mouth was red and swollen, giving away that she’d been thoroughly kissed. “Nothing, honey,” she answered the little girl.
Boo studied both their faces. “Looks like what my daddy’s been doing a lot with my mommy.”
Bret clamped his mouth shut, distancing himself from the whole conversation.
“It was a happy to see you kiss, honey. Adults do that all the time.”
He shifted slightly so he could see Boo’s face. It was scrunched up in a frown, her expression debating whether to trust Meg’s answer.
Meg diverted her, God bless her. “I love your hair. Those barrettes make you look so much older.” She plugged in her Crock-Pot, not looking his way.
The distraction worked. The little girl grinned and twirled, showing the front and back of her hair. “I like it too. Thanks Aunt Meg.”
“No problem, sweetheart. Some night you’ll have to come spend the night with me and we’ll do hair and nails all night.”
“Oooh, when can we?” Boo bounced on her toes.
“Why don’t you go ask your mom when a good night would be?” She walked the girl to the swinging door by the dining room and waited until it shut behind her. She sauntered toward him. Even though he was a cop who daily faced down worse situations, he was wary of her intent.
She went past him and to the back door. She turned the knob and glared at him for a moment.
“Just so we’re clear. Drunk had nothing to do with it.” Exasperation firmed her luscious lips.
Bret glanced at the doors, assuring they were alone again. “Are you insane doing that in this house? Your brothers, your parents, and your grandmother would have put us through the mother of all cross-examinations if they’d caught us.” He’d watched Olivia with Tom’s last girlfriend. No way in hell did he want to be subjected to that kind of thing.
Gee, yeah, I want to have hot, sweaty, bed-wrecking sex with your granddaughter, but hey, no, I don’t want to marry her.
Dammit!
Not the thing to say to Olivia Applegate or any of her family for that matter.
“Would have been worth it.” She slammed out the door, without her coat. He groaned with frustration, sexual and emotional.
Dammit! Dammit!
The woman would freeze out there. What was she doing? He went out the door and walked the wrap-around porch, watching as she lifted a square pan from the car.
More food. Just what this house needed. Slipping back inside, he was relieved to see Olivia back in the kitchen. Any buffer was better than none. Man, that woman could kiss.
Meg made another pretense of wiping the counter and peeked out the window to her left as she did so. The sky had remained dark and uninviting all day. Bret and Tom stood on the side porch, deep in discussion. Bret’s back was to her. The wind tossed up the collar of his leather jacket. Tom stood hunched with his hands jammed in his jean pockets.
Bret had already said his goodbyes. She thought he’d bail after her little performance in the kitchen. She was quite surprised that he’d stuck it out for three hours. He avoided her the entire time, but he’d stayed. She hadn’t planned to declare herself like that, but maybe it was time. She turned on the water and rinsed the sink, scrubbing around the faucets, lost in memories.
When she’d come home from college four years ago, she’d been smarting from a failed romance. She ignored her love-at-first-sight feelings for Bret, established herself as a good teacher, and enjoyed being back near her family. Two years ago, she began dating every eligible guy in Echo Falls—well, maybe not all. But it felt like it. She didn’t stick with any of them. Probably because she was so dang attracted to this guy who, up to this point, didn’t appear to know she was alive.
She stopped wiping and peered around the curtain again. One of his hands gripped the post. She stared at his long fingers, remembering his hand in her hair. Well, maybe he did know she was alive. He had kissed her with all the passion found in a good romance novel. The men walked out of her view. She dropped the curtain and sighed.
The kitchen door swung open and Robin carried a couple more glasses to the sink. Meg put the sponge in the holder and tried for nonchalance.
“Bret left.” Robin turned on the faucet and rinsed the cups.
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. She lifted her cleaned pan and Crock-Pot and set them by the door with her purse.
Robin grinned. “I saw the way you looked at him.”
She whirled, glaring at her new sister-in-law. “I did not.” She cringed inside.
She should have said: Who?
“Mm. Hm.” Robin glanced at the kitchen door. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“There is no secret.” Maybe if she kept insisting she wouldn’t have this fluttery, jittery thing streaking from her breasts to her womb.
“I think it’s great.” Robin shrugged. “Of course, I’m extraordinarily happy right now, so it might be coloring my thinking.”
Meg twisted the silver ring on her right hand. “You think it’s great?”
Robin flashed a knowing smile. “You’ve been watching him for quite a while. I noticed it at our wedding.”
She exhaled a loud breath, disconcerted by Robin’s perception. “Man. You don’t think the family noticed, do you?”
“I think your brothers are suspicious, but they like Bret. I don’t think your mom and dad have figured it out yet. Olivia’s the one you need to worry about.”
She paled. Her grandmother was some kind of matchmaking guru. God! “At least I don’t have to worry about pumpkin magic.” She chuckled, remembering her new nieces’ spell to get Chad and Robin together.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Boo says she saw Aunt Meg kissing Officer Cara.”
“Oh God, please tell me she only told you that!”
“For now. I’m sure Chad will get an earful later.” Robin took a can of apple juice from the refrigerator, opened it, and took a sip. “So, I hear you want the girls for a slumber party.”
Meg brightened, relieved at the change of subject. “Is that okay? I’d love to have them for an evening or overnight. How about Friday?”
Robin crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “Chad and I could use some alone time, so that’s fine.”
“I’ll bet.” She grinned. “I hear daddy’s been kissing you a lot.”
Echo Falls, Texas Boxed Set Page 22