Hearts Are Wild

by Synithia Williams

  She slipped through the Arborvitae and into Dean’s yard. The guitar still picked out a tune, sad but content at the same time. Shannon followed the music and found herself beneath the balcony she had spotted from the main house. How to get his attention? She coughed. Nothing.

  “It’s beautiful,” she called out.

  The music stopped on a discordant note.

  “Shannon?”

  Dean stood up and peered over the railing. He didn’t look happy to see her. She got the sense he felt like he’d been caught. Oh, gosh! She’d intruded on something very private for him. She’d been so enthralled by the music that she was eager to share her praise with him. She hadn’t given a thought to his privacy.

  Poor Dean! All he wanted was to be left alone and what he got was a nosy neighbor. Realization had her blushing and stammering an apology. She turned on her heel, head down, the need to escape uppermost in her mind.

  “Wait!” he called after her.

  • • •

  Hurrying through the French doors, across his bedroom and out into the hallway, Dean threw a triumphant sneer at the doorframe that he’d avoided smashing his toes on this time, before missing the first stair tread and almost pitching face-first down the rest of the flight. He refrained from vocalizing the four-letter word he was thinking, but he sure thought it awful hard.

  “Shannon? Don’t go.”

  She waited for him on the lawn beneath his bedroom. Toes bare, impossibly long legs in deliciously short shorts, her hair in braids, Shannon was innocence and temptation all wrapped up in one neat package. She looked up at him beneath thick lashes, her bottom lip pinned between her teeth.

  “I’m so sorry! I just . . . I was making the beds, the window was open . . . it was so beautiful.”

  “The weather?”

  “No, the music.” She scrunched up her nose, her expression confused. “I didn’t know you played. You’re very talented.”

  Dean watched her closely. She wasn’t lying. He didn’t know what rock she’d been hiding under, but Shannon genuinely did not recognize him. He thought for sure he’d been found out when she showed up to discuss his music. Her smile was almost shy, her eyes full of admiration.

  Something eased inside his chest. Hope, buried for so long, struggled up to the surface. Fear kept him from saying anything stupid. He could never tell Shannon who he had been before. He wanted to remember the way she was looking at him right now. She was seeing him, really seeing him for who he was, not what his celebrity could mean for her.

  “You’re alone.” He’d just realized this and blurted it out, not meaning it to come out as surprised as it had.

  “I am.” Shannon sounded almost as surprised as he did. She chuckled.

  “My mother and her . . . friend are visiting. They took the kids to the zoo. I couldn’t go. My boss, Ms. Sheffield, is throwing a party at the big house this weekend. I had to finish getting the bedrooms ready.”

  “I should let you get back to it,” he said, though he wanted nothing more than to keep her right there.

  “It’s okay, I just finished.”

  She stood there, uncertain, her toes digging into the grass. Bared shoulders revealed a pattern of strawberry-scented freckles that Dean would have liked to explore further. Would they taste as good as they looked? His entire body was a live wire, just waiting to be tripped. Down, boy!

  “Do you want to come in? I was just going to make some iced tea.” He prayed that he actually had the makings of iced tea in his pantry.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I was just chastising myself for intruding on your privacy.” Shannon twisted her fingers together, frowning slightly.

  “Please. I’m a horrible grouch. I need you to get on my case. Bug me. Force me to join the land of the living.” Dean reached out and untangled her fingers, holding her hands in his and waiting until she met his eyes.

  The awareness there, in her gaze, sent fire racing through his veins. Shannon could speak volumes with just those brilliant blue eyes. She was scared, she was vulnerable, but she was hungry. She recognized him as a man. Need flooded his senses, had him hot, hard, and aching in a way he hadn’t felt in so long.

  Her attention was focused on his mouth. Her dainty tongue darted out to wet her lips. Eyelids lowered, her chest rose and fell as she began to breathe faster. Dean closed the distance between them. Did she even realize what she was asking for? She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  Letting her hands go at the last second, Dean reached out and cupped the back of Shannon’s head. Her lips were already parted, her eyes staring deep into his soul.

  “Shannon.”

  He claimed her mouth, equal parts desperation and tenderness. She moaned low in her throat, her fingers clutching at his shirt. Dean changed the angle of the kiss, eager for more of her. Shannon walked her fingers up his chest until they were curled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Not sure if he’d taken a step forward, she had, or they had moved together, Dean was acutely aware of how closely their bodies fit together.

  Breaking off the kiss to nibble his way up to her ear, Dean smoothed his hands down Shannon’s back. As the contact became more intimate, he felt the change in her immediately. Her body suddenly stiff, she pushed at his chest, wiggling to get out of his grasp.

  “We can’t . . . ” Shannon shook her head vigorously.

  “I wasn’t going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to my bed. I was just giving in to the moment.” His breathing ragged, Dean forced himself not to snap at her. “You going to tell me that wasn’t the perfect moment to share a kiss?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

  “No, it . . . I’m not saying . . . ” Shannon looked as flustered as he felt. She had backed away and was now hugging her arms around her middle.

  He’d pushed her too far and now he’d scared her. Feeling like a jerk, Dean gave her the distance she was seeking. Instinct had him longing to draw her into his arms. If he could just hold her until the fear passed. But he knew that, even if it was what she needed, she wasn’t ready to admit it. They stood in silence for a few moments, their breathing returning to normal. That bottom lip was between her teeth again. She offered up a small smile.

  “What scares you more, knowing I want you or knowing you want me back?” Dean’s direct stare was unapologetic.

  “I’m not scared.” Her laugh was shaky at best.

  He waited. Shannon shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her arms had gone from the protective stance around her waist to hands on her hips, defiant. She stood up straighter. His warrior woman. He fought to keep a grin from forming.

  “Listen . . . ” She was shaking her head again. “This can’t happen. You and me? I’m a full time mom. I don’t have time for . . . whatever this is.”

  “It’s your call.”

  Her jaw slackened. Clearly she wasn’t expecting him to back off that easy. This time, Dean did allow himself to grin. He could take things slowly. He wasn’t sure if her ex-husband had spooked her or if these were walls that Shannon had erected completely on her own. Dean suspected it had been so long since she had put herself first, that the feelings had overwhelmed her. Oh, yeah, she’d been scared.

  “If I promise to behave myself, will you please come in for some iced tea?”

  She blew out a deep breath and cocked her head to the side. “You have anything sweet to go with it?”

  “I will split my last cranberry orange muffin with you.” He spoke this with the reverence it was due. Shannon giggled.

  “You discovered Cady’s pastries, huh?” She headed for the front of the house. “Wait until September and October. I hope you like pumpkin. Oh my goodness, I can taste it now.”

  Dean fought back a groan at the look of ecstasy on Shannon’s face. It was going to be a challenge, holding to his promise to keep his hands to himself. He let her into the house and gestured toward the kitchen, belatedly realizing he was in for all kinds of torture. His eyes were fixed on the slight sway of her hi
ps as she traversed the long hallway. Promising himself a date with a cold shower later, Dean vowed to make the most of this alone time with Shannon.

  Chapter Eleven

  “So this neighbor of yours must be really special.”

  Shannon almost knocked the ice cream from the top of her cone. Her head snapped up, her eyes glazed in a classic “deer in the headlights” look. She wondered if her mother could hear her heart pounding as loudly as she could. She couldn’t possibly know about that kiss.

  Her mother had always had a way of learning all Shannon’s secrets. Shannon took a deep breath and ate another bite of ice cream, a defense mechanism she had learned as a child. She couldn’t talk if her mouth was full.

  “The children were singing his praises the whole time we were at the zoo. Brady went on about how strong he is. Brian is convinced that Dean is the next Tony Stark. I’m not sure I’ve heard of him. Is he a sports star?”

  Shannon shook her head. She hadn’t realized how much Dean had come to mean to her kids. Oh, what had she done? She had all but pushed them into his yard, into his life. And for what, so she could enjoy a little eye candy? No, he wasn’t just a gorgeous face. He’d come to mean something to all of them. Absently, she watched the chocolate ice cream dribble down the cone, onto her hand.

  “ . . . marry him.”

  “Whoa! I’m sorry, what?” Shannon leaned over and tossed her melted mess of an ice cream cone into a garbage can. She grabbed the stack of napkins beside her and rubbed briskly at her hands.

  “I said, Brenna is already making plans to marry your Dean, once she’s grown up. She was telling me all about the flowers and the dress. It sure starts early, doesn’t it?”

  “He’s not my Dean. That’s ridiculous! I mean, she can marry whomever she wants when the time is right. But Brenna is too young to be thinking about crushes and marriages and flowers . . . ” Shannon stopped wiping at her sticky fingers when she realized she’d been babbling.

  She looked up and, sure enough, Catherine’s steely eyes showed she wasn’t fooled a bit.

  “Oh, baby, what have I done to you?” Tossing her own ice cream away, Catherine drew her daughter up from the picnic table.

  “Children, stay with Roger. Your mom and I are going to take a little walk.”

  The two women left the ice cream shop and walked the short distance to the cliff face, overlooking the Atlantic. They sat on a bench and looked out over the placid ocean. The lighthouse in the distance gleamed white in the late afternoon sun.

  “Remember when we used to drive up here and park to watch the storms? There was something so awe-inspiring about the way the waves crashed against the rocks. All that power. You really got the sense that something bigger than us was in charge.”

  “I remember you telling me that if a boy asks me to park at the lighthouse, it wasn’t because he was suggesting we watch the waves. I was to tell him ‘No way!’ and make him take me back home.”

  “Uh huh, and instead of following my advice, you jumped at the chance to go with Vincent Bainbridge, the first time he asked you.”

  “I was merely curious.” Shannon felt her cheeks warm at that particular memory. Oh, she’d learned a lot that night.

  “But you didn’t stay that way.” Disappointment tinged her mother’s words.

  “I beg your pardon? That’s like saying you want me to be . . . unladylike,” Shannon stammered. This conversation was making her incredibly uncomfortable.

  Catherine sighed, her smile sad. She reached out and took one of Shannon’s hands, squeezed. She stared out at the ocean for a long time, like she was trying to figure out how to form what she needed to say.

  “I didn’t want you to end up like me.” She held up her hand when Shannon turned and gave her an incredulous look.

  “I let my experience with your father color my entire view of the male population. Men leave. They can’t be depended upon. They only think of themselves. They are little boys in a big body.”

  “I’ve had my own experiences, you know. Vince wasn’t any different than my father. Hell, my dad stuck around longer. Vince cut out as soon as he found out we were having triplets.”

  “He was young. You were both so young. Have you ever wondered if he would have stayed if you hadn’t gotten pregnant right away? Or if you’d only had one baby? I’m not trying to make excuses for Vince, but I think he was just a scared boy. He was overwhelmed.”

  Shannon frowned, snagging a lock of hair and twirling it absently around her finger. Her mother had never mentioned this before. It would be childish to think the woman was taking sides. To be quite honest, Shannon had just assumed he was looking for an easy way out of a life that had suddenly become one huge responsibility.

  “I let my own past influence your view of men . . . of the world. I made a mistake.”

  “Mom, that’s not true. You were the best parent in the world. You were always there for me. You made me feel safe, loved, protected.”

  “I sheltered you. I tried to protect you from making the same mistakes I did.” Catherine looked up, her gaze somewhere out over the distant horizon. “I was so happy for you when you and Vince said you were getting married. It meant that you were forming your own opinions, taking your own chances. I was so proud of you.”

  “Is that why you left? Because you thought I didn’t need you anymore?”

  “My leaving was all about me, sweetheart. It had nothing to do with you. I had put my own life on hold for so long that I almost forgot what it was to be me.

  “You were starting your own life, that’s true. And it was time for me to find my own way, to finally do something for myself.”

  Shannon sighed. She remembered the excitement of starting a new life with Vince. But at the same time, she had felt resentment toward her mother for choosing that time to move out to California. She had felt abandoned. To her, her mother was acting flighty, irresponsible. She had never even thought to ask Catherine why she was leaving. Now she understood.

  “When you didn’t come back after the triplets were born, I thought that was your way of reinforcing that I had to do this on my own. You took on two jobs to support me. You worked so hard to give me the life I had. You did what you needed to do and you didn’t ask for help from anyone.”

  “And I hated it. Oh, my God, there were times I was so bitter, so resentful. I can’t tell you how horrible a mother I felt. It is a miracle that you didn’t pick up on that.” Catherine turned to her daughter, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  The sight was too much and Shannon gathered the older woman into her arms, the two of them sobbing on each other’s shoulders. So much had come to light. As close as they were, this was a talk that had been too long in coming. Everything Shannon had based her life on, her parenting philosophy on was . . . skewed.

  Scrambling in her pockets for tissues, Catherine sniffled, pulling herself together. She pressed a tissue into Shannon’s hand and dabbed at her own tears. They finally made eye contact and both women began to giggle.

  “Now, do you want to tell me about your new neighbor? Is Brenna going to have any competition?”

  “He’s everything the kids say he is and more. He’s kind, he’s thoughtful, he’s patient.”

  “Is he a good kisser?” Again with the knowing gaze.

  “Oh, yeah.” Shannon closed her eyes and didn’t even bother to hide the pleased smile that took over her whole face. “But I’m not going to ask you the same question. Sorry, Mom. I’m happy you found Roger, or that he found you. But it’s just too squicky to think of you . . . like that.” Her expression was half smile, half grimace.

  “I won’t give you nightmares by offering up too much detail. I just want you to know how happy he makes me. I didn’t realize how long I had been cheating myself until Roger came along. He makes me want . . . more.”

  “You look happy. Really. I know I’m not used to your having a man in your life, but if Roger makes you look this carefree, then he’s got to be good for you.�
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  “I’m glad you think so, baby, because one of the reasons I brought Roger with me was to make an announcement.” Catherine’s smile slipped a little as she took a deep breath. “Roger and I are getting married.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Shannon shoved her sixth batch of cookies, snickerdoodles this time, into the oven and gave the little plastic timer a sharp twist. Baking always calmed her. Only tonight, that peace was dancing just a tad out of reach. Opening the cupboard with all her plastic containers, she frowned. It was a little late to be worrying about how she was going to pack up and transport all these cookies.

  Forget that—who was she going to give them to? The hospital? Too many food allergy issues. Ms. Sheffield had caterers running ragged during her weekend house party, so her guests wouldn’t need more food. The 4th of July festivities were tomorrow. Okay. Shannon started to form a plan.

  After the parade meandered from the harbor through Main St., ending at the elementary school, the townsfolk gathered in the ball field behind the village fire station. Two different fire stations serviced Scallop Shores, one close to the center of town and one accessible to the beaches. Every 4th of July they held the Fireman’s Muster, a series of competitions to see which station reigned supreme. The relay races, tug-of-war, and other activities were bound to stir up appetites. Shannon wiped her hands together and began to collect all the Tupperware and cookie tins she could find.

  The timer on the counter and a knock at the front door sounded at the same time. Grabbing a nearby oven mitt, she took the cookies out and turned off the oven. Then she hustled to the front door, groaning when she couldn’t turn the doorknob with the hand fitted with the oven mitt.

  “So I have to tell you . . . ” Dean gave the door a little push and brushed past Shannon. “There is the most incredible smell coming from this direction. I figure, as your neighbor, I should investigate. Because there are bound to be people lining up behind me and I wouldn’t want you and the kids to get trampled.”