by Molly Cannon
“Who’s there?”
“Let me in, Donny Joe. I’m dying out here.”
He opened the door just a sliver, enough to peek out at his late night visitor. She took that as an invitation and stumbled inside.
“Etta? What the hell? Did you lock yourself out or something?”
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, basking in the heat of his house. “That wind is ferocious. When did it get so cold outside?”
“They say we still have a chance for snow this weekend. What are you doing running around outside in your pajamas anyway?”
“I’m not running around. I came to see you.” She realized he was standing in front of her holding a baseball bat wearing only his boxer shorts. They were plaid. A gray and red pattern to be exact. She took a step toward him, remembering why she came. Her voice was shaky and a leftover hiccup from her crying jag escaped her throat. “Are you alone?”
He leaned the bat against the wall and in two steps had his arms around her, leading her to his couch. “What is it, Etta? Have you been crying?”
She rubbed her hands across her face. “Oh geez, I must look a mess. I’m afraid I cry all ugly.”
“Let me see.” He smiled and examined her face while he smoothed a hand over her hair. “I’d say you still fall on the cuter side of the scary scale.”
“Gee, now I know why all the ladies fall at your feet.”
He grew serious. “Are you okay?”
She sniffed. “Usually when anyone asks me that I say I’m fine. Even when I’m not. But when I’m with you, Donny Joe, I don’t have to pretend, do I?”
“I never want you to pretend with me, Etta.” Donny Joe leaned back against the pillows with his arm across the top of the sofa cushion.
Etta let out a big shuddering sigh. She wasn’t sure where to begin. “Belle just told me she’s staying in Everson until the end of the school year.”
“I guess that’s good for Daphne. She won’t get yanked out of school midterm.”
Etta nodded her agreement. “Belle didn’t say so, but I think Roger dumped her.”
“So, she’s come back because she’s out of other options.”
“A woman like Belle always has other options, but she seems to be making a real effort. She’s going out of her way to be helpful around the Inn, and I really think she’s actually listening to what Daphne wants for a change.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“She said I could go back to Chicago whenever I wanted. Like she was giving me permission. Just like that. She flits back into town, relieves me of my duties, and tells me to go on home and resume my old life. I have no old life, Donny Joe.”
“Did you even tell her about Diego and Finale’s?”
“No, because technically she didn’t cause those problems, but emotionally it feels like all of it is completely her fault. Her philosophy of ‘if it feels good, do it’ lays waste to everyone around her. And she’s too blind to notice.”
“I understand how you feel. If you could have gone home when you wanted it might have changed the outcome. Diego might not have had the balls to screw you when he couldn’t do it behind your back.”
“But who knows, really? As soon as that Sandra Mann sunk her claws into him he turned into a different man than the one I’ve known all these years.”
“Maybe. I don’t think people change much.”
“Ah, but he blamed it on love. You know. That crazy thing that makes the world go round. That thing all the couples at dinner tonight were celebrating.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Donny Joe stood up and walked over to a cabinet. He picked up a small package and came back to the couch. He sat down beside her and held it out. “This might not be the right time, but Happy Valentine’s Day, Etta.”
She was genuinely shocked. “What is it?”
He laughed. “Tear off the paper and find out. But first I want you to notice I wrapped it myself.”
She smiled at the heart-covered red and white paper and tore it off with abandon. She opened the hinged box she found inside and picked up the bracelet. It was a silver charm bracelet, and as she examined it she found each charm more delightful than the one before. A tiny rolling pin, a chef’s hat, a whisk, a frying pan, a spatula and a little muffin pan. Knives and spoons and forks, and a stand mixer like the one that sat in Grammy’s kitchen. There was one more charm that didn’t fit in with the rest. It was a small silver heart with her name engraved on one side.
“Since it was for Valentine’s Day it seemed like it needed a heart.”
“I don’t know what to say. This is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me.”
“So, you like it?”
She set the bracelet on the coffee table and reached over to give him a hug. “I love it. Thank you, Donny Joe.” It was impossible not to run her hands over his bare skin. He reacted by reaching for the zipper on the front of her parka. She pushed away and stilled his hand. “I’m sorry. That’s not why I came over.” She didn’t want him to think she was the kind of woman who showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, cried on his shoulder and then used him for sex to forget her problems.
“Really? Because I have to say this outfit you’re wearing just screams ‘seduce me now.’ Especially the cowboy boots. They’re a nice touch.”
She grinned at his teasing. “I mean, it’s not that I’m not tempted, of course.” She gestured to his state of undress. Her hand drifted over, tracing a path down his chest.
“Of course.” His eyes followed her hand as it trailed over his flat stomach. “Would you rather play darts instead?”
Her eyes lit up at the suggestion. “How did you guess? I can’t think of a better way to unwind.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I guess I should go put on some more clothes in that case.”
She shook her head, dismissing that suggestion right away. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. You look so comfortable.”
He stood up and held out his hand. “What are we playing for this time, Etta? Same stakes as last time?”
She let him pull her to her feet and lead her down the hall. “Oh, I bet we can come up with something a lot more interesting than that.”
They only made it halfway down the hall before he pressed her up against the wall. Holding her hands over her head with one hand he unzipped her parka with his other.
“Just in case we don’t get around to the darts, I think I’ll claim my reward now.” Then he kissed her. And she wanted to crawl inside his skin. His mouth teased and ravished and played while he cupped her breast with one hand over her pajamas. His other hand was busy, too—skimming her pants down, leaving her legs bare. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, loving the way her bare skin felt against his.
He carried her down the hall and sat down on the couch in the game room. She stayed on his lap while he pulled her pajama top over her head and groaned as he buried his face in her naked bosom.
“I’m really not in the mood anymore,” she whispered in his ear.
“Hmm?” His hands were following the contours of her back, tracing feathery patterns from her shoulder blades down to the flare of her hips.
“For darts.” She kissed the column of his neck, biting and licking, paying special attention to the place that sloped into his collarbone. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Me either,” he declared in a voice rough with passion. Abruptly he stood, scooping her into his arms and carrying her out of the room. He marched down the hall before stopping at his bedroom door and kissed her once sweetly on the lips. Walking into the room he laid her on the bed, towering above her for a brief moment.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured.
Then he followed her down, covering her with his body, pleasing her with his mouth and his hands, and she forgot to wonder what his words meant.
Chapter Twenty-five
Donny Joe stood on the sidelines watching a bunch of eight- and nine-year
-old girls chase a soccer ball around the field. This was only the Fireflies’ second practice, and the chilly Saturday afternoon weather made a mockery of the expression “Spring soccer.” As the new coach, he was still trying to figure out the skill level of the players. Some had played before. For others it was the first time. And for now the girls mobbed around the ball like cows around a trough at feeding time, all trying to kick the ball at once without any plan or strategy behind it. He wasn’t sure how he was going to break them of the habit. He only knew it was his job to try.
He spotted Daphne in the crowd of girls, smiling at her enthusiasm. Her blonde braids flew out from her head as she bit her lip and took a mighty swing at the ball with her left foot. It went sailing down the field and all the girls chased after it. Interesting. If she was left-footed the team could use her as a striker on the left side. Naturally left-footed players were always a blessing. He was left-footed, too, and it had proved to be an asset when he played the game.
“So, is Daphne your daughter?” Tara’s father came to stand by his side. Tara was new to the team, too. But she didn’t chase after the ball like the rest of the girls. She squatted by the goal line happily digging in the dirt.
Donny Joe smiled and turned to face the man. He wasn’t the first person to assume she was his. “No. I’m just a friend of the family who got recruited to help coach the team.”
“Really? Well, she looks just like you. I’m Brian Silva, by the way.”
“Tara’s father, right?” Donny Joe was still learning the parents’ names. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m afraid Tara isn’t very excited about playing the game yet, but she wanted to sign up because her friends are on the team. And she likes the pink shirts.”
Donny Joe knew from what Daphne said that Rose Starling and the twins Sawla and Sheila Trent had talked the girl into playing. “Well, that’s a start. We’ll see what we can do to make sure she has a good time. At this age I just want them all to have fun.”
“Good. That’s a philosophy I can get behind. Let me know if you need help.”
“I will, Brian.” So far all the parents had seemed nice enough. He was a little worried about Gillian Dunsworth’s father. Even at such a young age she showed natural talent, and Greg Dunsworth liked to micromanage her every move from the sidelines just in case college scouts were lurking around looking for future recruits. He’d need to nip that habit in the bud before it took root. He glanced back at the parents lined up in their folding chairs. Some people read books or were busy on their phones. Others talked and visited, barely watching the practice.
And then there was Belle. She’d been so excited to come to the practice. But she wasn’t content to merely be a parent on the sidelines. It seemed she’d played in college, and it was obvious she knew a lot about the game. It made sense she’d want to be involved.
“You should use me as an assistant coach. After all, Daphne is my daughter.”
He couldn’t find a good argument against it, especially when Daphne went nuts over the idea. And now Belle had a group of girls on the other half of the field working on a simple passing drill. Dividing them up into smaller groups made it easier to give all the players attention. He called Tara over and told her to join the passing drill. She handed him a flower she’d picked and skipped over to join the others without complaining. After another five minutes he called them all in for a short water break.
Belle jogged over, noting the flower in his hand. “Tsk-tsk. Another new admirer, Donny Joe?”
Ignoring her remark, he tucked it behind his ear and said, “Let’s switch groups after the break, but work with Tara, would you? I want to find something she’s good at.”
Belle winked. “Sure thing, coach.”
“And then we’ll have a short scrimmage to end practice. You play on one team, and I’ll play on the other. See if we can get these girls to spread out.”
After practice he helped all the girls gather their gear and made sure there weren’t any stragglers that didn’t have a ride home. Then Daphne and Belle climbed into his truck and he drove toward home. As usual Daphne talked nonstop the entire ride home. When she mentioned that Donny Joe was coming with her to “Take Your Father to School Day” Belle perked up, showing special interest.
“When is that?” she asked.
“On Monday,” Donny Joe said. “I’ve got it on my calendar.”
“Yeah. In the morning, when we usually do Show and Tell.” Daphne grinned. “He’s bringing pink flamingos.”
Belle looked puzzled. “Pink flamingos? Oh, my.”
“He sells them in his store,” Daphne explained.
“I see. Well, that sounds simply mesmerizing. I’d like to come, too,” Belle said. “If that’s okay with you, Daphne. It would be a good chance to introduce myself to your teacher.”
“Yippee, it will almost be like having a whole family with me.”
“Almost,” Belle said.
He ignored the significant look she shot his way. He wanted no part of anything she might be offering.
He pulled into the Inn’s driveway and waited until they got out of the truck. Etta came out onto the porch and waved. He waved back. A wave of longing washed over him. He’d been disappointed when he’d woken up that morning to find her gone. Instead of being relieved, he’d felt a terrible let down. Having a woman spend the night at his house was a first for him. And he’d never invited anyone into his bed. But when that woman was Etta it was something he could get used to. In fact, it was something he wanted to get used to. He wanted to roll over and watch her while she slept on the pillow next to his. Tangle his fingers through her short, messy head of hair. Wake her up by kissing that freckle just below her left ear. Look into her sleepy brown eyes as they opened, and she realized she was naked in his bed. He groaned thinking about it.
He’d been so happy to find her at his back door, even if she’d looked like a ragamuffin in that outfit. Without a doubt his feelings for Etta were growing every day. He’d tried to keep a lid on them, knowing her plans didn’t include sticking around Everson. And now Belle was back. That meant Etta could decide to leave anytime. He didn’t even bother to deny how much he hated the idea.
He should tell her how he felt. He was so good at giving advice to everybody else, but he’d never felt quite this way about a woman before. She made him happy. She made him crazy. He wanted her day and night, and that was something entirely new for him. Maybe he was in love. He only knew for certain that he didn’t want her to go. If she did, he’d end up sharing a stool with old Arnie Douglas at Lu Lu’s, staring into his beer and biting the head off of anyone who spoke to him.
Etta had been putting the finishing touches on a breakfast casserole for the next morning when she’d heard Donny Joe’s truck in the driveway. She’d watched Daphne and Belle and Donny Joe head off to soccer practice that afternoon and tried not to feel left out. There was no reason she should be included. Just because she’d taken Daphne to buy new cleats and shin guards. Just because she’d spent a few hours kicking the soccer ball around with her and Donny Joe in the backyard. Belle was home now, so that kind of thing was her job now.
She waved at Donny Joe from the porch. She hadn’t talked to him since she’d made her unscheduled visit to his house the night before. He’d been exactly what she’d needed. He let her cry on his shoulder, and then he made her laugh. Oh, and he could drive her crazy, too, but she enjoyed their skirmishes—had actually started to look forward to them.
She’d reluctantly left his bed while he was still asleep. The temptation to wake him up and have a repeat performance of the night before had been hard to resist. But she dragged herself away knowing she had a morning full of cooking and cleaning up after the inn’s guests. Despite the way he made her feel, she was smart enough to realize that getting too attached to Donny Joe would be asking for heartache. Her feelings for him were growing deeper every day, and that could be dangerous. Especially since her plans for the future were com
pletely up in the air.
She watched Donny Joe drive away and then turned and followed a chattering Daphne and Belle back inside.
“Rose wants me to spend the night. Can I, Mama?”
“Who is Rose?” Belle asked.
“Mama, she’s my best friend. Tell her, Aunt Etta.”
Etta allowed herself a moment to feel smug at knowing something about Daphne that Belle didn’t know. “She’s Mr. Starling’s granddaughter, and she made sure Daphne had a friend to show her the ropes when she started school. They’ve become very close.”
“So, I should say yes? To letting her spend the night?”
Etta smiled indulgently at the concern in her sister’s voice. She wasn’t about to share the nightmare scenarios her brain had cooked up. “Of course, you should say yes.”
Daphne looked from her aunt to her mother. “Okay?”
Belle nodded. “Okay. I guess we’ve caught up enough that you don’t have to spend every waking minute by my side.”
“Thanks. I’ll go call her now.” Daphne ran out of the room, stopping only long enough to pick up Gabe on her way out. The cat had started spending as much time at the Inn as he did in Donny Joe’s barn.
Etta returned to the kitchen and started pulling out ingredients to make homemade cinnamon rolls. She wasn’t much of a baker. At the restaurant Henry had taken care of that. But she could make killer cinnamon rolls and she found the whole process soothing. Thinking of Henry made her daydream about the kind of restaurant she wanted to start when she got her settlement from Finale’s. Maybe he’d even join her in a new venture. He was a fabulous baker, and his desserts alone gave any new place a fighting chance. She didn’t know if he’d be willing to leave Chicago, but she was open to other locations. She should email him next week and see how things were going for him under Finale’s new management.
She piled the dirty dishes in the sink and went to find Belle. She’d made a deal for dish duty for the entire weekend, and she was going to hold her to it.