Hearts Are Wild

by Synithia Williams

  “I can’t tell you how lucky we are to have you looking out for our welfare.”

  The calm that Shannon had been searching for through baking was starting to settle in. Was it the fact that she had made a decision to bring the cookies to the Fireman’s Muster that had helped sooth her nerves? The other choice was more unsettling. Could Dean showing up on her doorstep be the balm that was easing her bunched muscles and tension headache? Heck, if she dwelled on it too long, the headache was going to come back even stronger.

  “Yes, I’m definitely on the right track. It’s very close. Please, stay behind me.”

  Dean held an arm out so that Shannon couldn’t even draw up beside him. Half-crouching, he sprang from one wall to another, like he was an FBI agent sneaking up on the bad guy. Shannon found herself a little disappointed that the triplets had already gone to bed. They would have enjoyed this little spectacle.

  “I’ve got it! I can help you make this dangerously delicious smell go away. I offer my services to help eat . . . ” Dean had reached the kitchen and finally got a look at the results of Shannon’s baking frenzy. “Ah, hell, even I’m not that hungry.”

  “It calms me. Or it’s supposed to. It was taking longer than usual.” The explanation rushed out, the sentences running together in their hurry to escape her mouth. Shannon twisted the oven mitt in her hands, refusing to look Dean in the eye.

  “Makes sense to me.” He shrugged. “I do get one, though, right? I mean, you can’t possibly have every single cookie spoken for?”

  “Have as many as you’d like.” Tossing the mitt on the counter, she slumped into a chair, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms tightly around her legs.

  Dean perused the cooling cookie sheets, tapping a finger on his chin before selecting his three favorites. He carried the short stack to the table and sat down across from Shannon.

  “You know what would go really great with these? A tall glass of milk.”

  “If you give a mouse a cookie . . . ”

  “Huh?”

  Shannon grinned. “Never mind.”

  She got up, retrieved a glass from the cabinet by the sink and filled it with milk. Setting it in front of Dean, she resumed her position in the chair, dropping her chin onto her knees. Dean lifted the glass in salute and guzzled.

  “It’s early yet. I figured the kiddos would still be awake, but I don’t see them.”

  “They were wiped out. Everyone was nodding off at the table so I gave them a quick bath and put them to bed early. No one even complained that they didn’t get dessert.”

  “And you’ve been baking cookies ever since.” It wasn’t a question, but it was clear that Dean was waiting for the rest of the story.

  “And I’ve been baking cookies ever since.”

  “Your mom still in town?”

  He wasn’t going to give her a choice. Shannon scowled. With lightning reflexes, she reached out and snagged his last cookie. Dean’s jaw dropped and she swore the sound that he’d cut off had been a whine. She stuck her tongue out and bit into the cookie. Not to be bested, he scrambled up from the table and grabbed another handful for himself, before returning to his seat and directing those soulful green eyes at her.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll spill.” Shannon breathed in through her nose and blew it out slowly. “You sure you don’t mind being dumped on like this? You can back out. I don’t mind. I’ll bake another batch of cookies.” The giggle that escaped was nowhere near as lighthearted as she had been going for.

  “It’s up to you. Either you can tell me your troubles or I can haul you onto my lap and give you the hug you look like you so desperately need.” His serious gaze never wavered. Shannon swallowed hard.

  “My mom dropped a bomb on me last night. I’ve been trying to . . . process it . . . ever since. I guess I’m not doing so well.” She swept the ends of a lock of hair back and forth across her knee like a paintbrush. “So she brought this ‘man friend’ out for us to meet. You have to understand, my mother has never introduced a boyfriend to me. Not even when I was a little girl and it was just the two of us. I thought she wanted to tell me that she’d finally decided to have a relationship with a man.

  “Even that much was tough for me to handle. But I understand that my mom can get lonely and needs companionship. Especially, when she tells me they’re staying at a local bed and breakfast. Way more than I wanted to know!” Shannon rolled her eyes, shuddering.

  “But last night she tells me they’re getting married. I’m not a petulant child. It’s not that I’m upset because she didn’t ask me first. It’s the fact that she is getting married at all. Catherine Fitzgerald is not the marrying kind.”

  Shannon looked down to see the rest of the cookie she’d stolen crumbled beneath her fist. She stared at the crumbs, afraid to see the look on Dean’s face. He must think she was crazy. What sane adult gets so worked up over their parent finding happiness?

  “Your parents still together?” She somehow knew the answer would be yes.

  “Going on thirty-five years. Every family is different, Shannon.”

  “I thought we were so alike. I looked up to her. I modeled my life like hers because she was the strongest woman I knew.”

  “Wait. So falling in love makes her weak?”

  “Not weak, vulnerable.”

  Fear for herself, and fear for her mother had her hand trembling. Could she make him understand? She didn’t know why, but it suddenly seemed so important that he understand where she was coming from. Dean’s large hand covered her own, the warmth of it sliding under her skin to chase the shivers away. She couldn’t take her eyes from their joined hands.

  “You’re scared she’s going to be hurt?”

  “Men leave. They stick around for a little fun, but when things get serious they run.”

  “Forgive me, but if this guy has proposed to your mom, then it sounds like things already are serious. Marriage is a huge commitment.”

  Shannon scoffed, tugging her hand out from beneath his. “Marriage is nothing. It’s easily dissolved. Standing by your significant other and sharing responsibilities, that’s commitment. Having the guts to be a dad and help raise and shape your children. That’s commitment!”

  “Sweetheart?” Dean’s voice was soft. “Your mom is in another phase of her life. She’s done raising children. She wants to share her life with someone.” He leaned in close. “You said you understood that she could get lonely. You said it was just the two of you during your childhood. Would you deny her the chance to grow old with someone?”

  “But would it be forever? How do we know? How does anybody know?”

  Shannon tried to blink away the stinging behind her eyelids, but all that did was let the backed up tears fall. Sniffling, she swiped angrily at her cheeks. She wished he’d just go home. Why did he have to be so kind? Why was he bothering to listen? Why couldn’t he understand how terrifying this was?

  A moment’s weightlessness was the only warning she had before Shannon felt herself drawn into Dean’s arms, draped across his lap. Oh, why did he have to be so perfect? Burying her face in his neck, she registered the fact that he wasn’t wearing any cologne. Oddly, this made him even more appealing. He smelled faintly of soap, shampoo, and man. Looping her arms around him and acting on impulse, Shannon flicked her tongue out to taste the spot where his pulse beat strongly.

  “Woman, you’re playing with fire,” Dean uttered gruffly.

  His hands began to roam up and down her back. It felt so good to forget. She twirled a finger in the ends of his hair. So silky. His breathing hitched. Emboldened, Shannon replaced her tongue with her lips, kissing her way up the long column of his neck to his ear. Intoxicated by his scent, his very nearness, she drew his earlobe into her mouth.

  With a muffled oath, Dean pulled her off his lap long enough to wrap her legs around his waist, before settling down again. He took control, his kiss telling her exactly what he’d like to do with her. Teeth scraping against the ten
der inside of her bottom lip, he couldn’t seem to get close enough. Shannon moaned when his tongue swept in and tangled with hers. More. She wanted more.

  “Mommy! I need you, Mommy!”

  The sheer panic in Brenna’s voice had Shannon scrambling from the warmth of Dean’s embrace and jumping into Mommy mode in mere seconds. She spared him the briefest of glances before charging down the hallway.

  • • •

  Dean stood up, legs trembling, lungs working like a bellows. He ground the heels of his palms against his eyes and then ran his hands through his hair. What the hell had just happened? This woman was going to be the death of him, for sure.

  With considerable effort, he finally regained most of his composure. Looking around the kitchen, Dean thought he should probably help put things to rights. There were plastic containers on the counter. He could pack up the cookies. But Brenna had sounded so scared.

  Treading softly so as not to wake the boys, Dean tried to figure out which room Shannon had disappeared into. As if on cue, a soft lullaby carried to him from the end of the hall. He stood back from the doorway. Mother and daughter were snuggled in a small bed piled high with stuffed animals.

  Shannon’s voice was hauntingly lovely. Dean was stunned. She deserved a record deal more than him. She had spotted him peeking in the doorway and smiled softly. “I’ll be out soon,” she mouthed, rocking Brenna gently.

  Nodding, Dean took that as a dismissal and headed back to the kitchen. Strangely, he felt disappointed that he hadn’t been asked in to help comfort the child back to sleep. Brenna wasn’t his. He had no responsibilities where these kids were concerned. Yet, he found himself wanting to be asked, wanting to be included.

  This time he did put the cookies away. Good lord, Shannon had better know what she intended to do with them. There were probably a good six dozen here. Did cookies go in the fridge? Nah. Dean shook his head. Cold cookies were hard cookies.

  Looking around, he snatched up the wax paper that lined the counters. He threw it away and began to gather up the dirty cookie sheets and baking racks. When Shannon still didn’t show herself, he grabbed a bottle of dish detergent and set to work washing dishes. It didn’t take long and he left them to air dry in the plastic rack.

  Surely, Brenna couldn’t still be upset over whatever nightmare had woken her up? Dean dried his hands on a crocheted dishtowel and hung it back on its hook. He slipped back down the hall and tiptoed into the darkened bedroom.

  Shannon lay curled up beneath the Disney Princess comforter, Brenna cradled in her arms. They were both fast asleep. Dean had no idea how long he stood watching them. Fame had taught him that home and hearth probably just weren’t in the cards for him. He’d had a lot of time to get used to that idea. But right at this moment, he wanted nothing more than to climb in on the other side of Shannon and hold them both tight.

  Swallowing past a hard knot in his throat, Dean backed out of the bedroom. A quick peek in the room across the hall revealed Brian and Brady, snoring softly and safe for the night. He turned off lights as he went and made sure the front door was locked as he let himself out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They couldn’t have asked for better weather for the 4th of July parade. Dean rolled the bill of his ball cap to help cut the glare of the sun. He slipped his mirrored shades off his t-shirt and put them on. He was starting to refer to this as his standard uniform. Pathetic. Why couldn’t he be like the other guys who had been in the band? They didn’t care who recognized them.

  What would it hurt, really? People might come up to him and ask for his autograph or a picture with him. No big deal. But it had gotten more complicated than that. There was more at stake. Dean was starting to fall for Shannon, and her kids. He couldn’t ruin the possibility of a relationship, not when he was just starting to realize that he actually wanted one.

  Hoping to catch a ride with Shannon and the triplets to the parade, Dean had strolled next door. Her smile was apologetic as she explained that her mother and Roger were riding with them and there was no extra room. Still she made no move to invite him in.

  It was almost laughable, really. Dean was used to women who couldn’t wait to show him off to their friends and family. She may not admit it, but Shannon was making a concerted effort to keep him and her mother apart. Waving a hand in farewell, Dean spun on his heel and headed back the way he’d come.

  “Dean?” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Thank you for cleaning up the kitchen and putting the cookies away for me.”

  “It’s what neighbors do for each other.” He winked.

  Shannon had told him they planned to watch the parade from in front of her friend’s business, Tumble Tots. He found a parking spot at the elementary school and now strolled down Main St. looking for the brightly colored building, or three carrot-topped munchkins, whichever he spotted first.

  Folding chairs of every style and size lined the parade route. Not all of them were filled yet. The parade started in the harbor, about two miles from this end of town. It wasn’t due to start at that end for another half hour, so there was plenty of time to find his neighbors and settle in.

  Dean had to do a double take when he noticed someone grilling out of the back of an old pickup truck. Now that was some serious partying spirit! He grinned, wondering if the police on duty would have anything to say about the red plastic cups the grilling group sported. He highly doubted they were filled with lemonade.

  Up ahead he spotted the bright yellow building that housed Tumble Tots. Tiny monkeys cavorted in a painted mural on the plate glass window. The window frame had been painted a bright, cherry red. The door was royal blue, with more monkeys on the glass inset. Dean had to admit, monkeys seemed quite fitting.

  “Mr. Dean, Mr. Dean!” Brian waved wildly from his spot on the curb. His brother and sister turned and the group jumped up, as one, to race over for hugs.

  “Hey there, monkeys. You ready to see some cool fire trucks?”

  They bounced around, squealing and giggling. Then they were joined by a pair of identical twins who looked a couple of years younger than their friends. What did they put in the water supply in this town? Dean tried not to let his surprise show.

  “We’re gonna ride on the fire twuck! Mommy said you can come wiff us,” one of the twins hollered.

  Brady muscled his way to where his mother stood, under the blue striped awning that shaded the doorway. She was speaking to another young mother and dropped a hand on Brady’s head, letting him know, without words, that he needed to wait his turn. Dean nearly laughed as he watched the boy twitching with excitement.

  She turned to address Brady and the other children. Dean knew the exact moment she spotted him, her jaw dropping slightly, cheeks turning that cute shade of pink. The smile she offered was just for him. Dean wanted to jump up and down just like the kids.

  “Who wants to ride on the big fire engine in the parade?” Shannon asked her brood. Dean watched her wince at the shrill response.

  “Can Mr. Dean come with us?” Brady had slipped a possessive hand into Dean’s.

  “I don’t see why not.” Shannon looked to her friend for verification. “By the way, Dean this is Talia. Talia, Dean.”

  The woman shook his hand as she watched him closely, the same look on her face as when she had spied him on the boardwalk. The wheels were turning. She knew she knew him from somewhere, but where? Though he wore his standard disguise, ball cap and mirrored sunglasses, Dean swallowed nervously. He ducked his head and tried to resist the urge to dart off into the crowd.

  “Hey kiddos, I think I’m going to hang out here. You have a blast, though! I want to hear all about it when you finish the parade route.”

  Their disappointment was a bitter chorus to his ears. Dean reached out to ruffle each silky head. He wanted to go with them. He really did. But the idea of putting himself out there, for everyone to see, made him want to hurl. His heart squeezed even tighter when he looked up to see the sad look on Shannon
’s face.

  “Well, we can’t have Mr. Dean watching the parade all by himself. This is his first Scallop Shores 4th of July parade, after all.”

  Dean turned to see another small hand thrust out, waiting to be shaken. He blinked. This little tornado must be Shannon’s mother. Her grip was strong, her expression warm and welcoming. He found himself surprised that the woman was not a redhead, like the rest of her family. Her long, wavy hair was quite dark, peppered with strands of silver.

  “Catherine Fitzgerald. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Dean grinned openly when she shot her daughter a look that said she, too, thought Shannon remiss in not having introduced them sooner.

  “Shannon, darling, you enjoy the parade with Dean. Roger and I will join Talia, here, in child wrangling. Talia, have I introduced my fiancé, Roger?”

  The group started to head for the parking lot at the back of the store. They needed to hurry if they were going to get the kids to the fire trucks, lined up and ready at the other end of the parade route. Brenna tugged her hand from her grandmother’s and dashed back to Dean.

  “We get to throw out kisses to the people watchin’ on the ground. I’m gonna throw mine right to you. So you catch ’em, okay?”

  “You’ve got it, Princess.” He resisted the urge to gather her up and settled for a wink. He laughed when she returned it with one of her own.

  “You’re going to have your hands full with that one.” He nodded at the little girl jogging off, pigtails jiggling as she went.

  “She only has eyes for you, you know?” Shannon looked up at him from beneath her lashes.

  “She’s got good taste for someone so young.” He feigned pain when she punched him in the shoulder. “What? It’s my cross to bear.”

  The lighthearted repartee was cut short when Shannon suddenly frowned. Her attention was focused somewhere across the street. Dean tried to see what was causing her distress. Leaning against a lamppost was an older gentleman, a green plaid sunhat clashing with the salmon colored polo that stretched across his ample middle. To say that he was sneering was putting it mildly. This guy was definitely looking right at Shannon, and the hatred on his face was unmistakable.