by Geri Krotow
“Only because you taught her self-defense.”
“No.” He leaned toward her. She thought he’d kiss her. Prayed he would.
“Claire, we taught her how to handle the whole situation. We prepared her together. Supported her 4-H project. Let her be herself, even when she tried to matchmake us. Ever since you came into her life, we’ve taken care of her, raised her—as a team.”
He reached for her and she went into his arms.
His hands tugged her hair free of the band she held it back with. His stomach was pressed against her, and she felt the hair of his legs against her smooth shins.
His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded and he looked at her one last time, gave her a chance to back out.
“I’m tired of trying to think my way out of this, Claire. I want you.”
“I want you, too, I—” Before she’d finished, his mouth was on hers, moving with passion and familiarity as if they were a couple who’d been apart for years, finally reunited.
But this wasn’t a reunion or a homecoming. It was a joining—all heat, need, sweat and intensity.
Time was nonexistent, yet Claire knew it couldn’t have been more than forty seconds before Dutch had her sash untied and her robe in a pool around her feet. He grabbed her and pulled her against his arousal. Claire moaned.
“Dutch, I—”
“Shh. We’ve talked enough for three lifetimes, Claire. Let me make love to you.”
She pulled back a fraction of an inch. “There won’t be any regrets this time?” She whispered her fear aloud.
“Only if you don’t kiss me.”
She lost her train of thought as he trailed kisses on the nape of her neck, then bit the curve of her shoulder.
“God, Claire, you’re so beautiful.” He stared openly at her breasts, her stomach, her legs. His gaze met hers. “I’ve been such a fool. Can you forgive me?”
“Forgive you?”
“I almost blew this for both of us. For all of us.”
“Then we need to make up for it.”
“DAD?”
“Hmm?”
They sat at the dining-room table. Sasha’s math book was open, but Dutch hadn’t seen her writing anything for the past fifteen minutes. He couldn’t focus on his case studies, either.
“I miss Claire when she’s not here. Or when we’re not at her house.”
Sasha’s face looked so somber. She’d grown up over the past year, but not as much as she had in the past few weeks. The incident at the Sheep and Wool Festival had shaken her, and after the shock had worn off, she’d needed a lot of comfort.
He gave her all the comfort he could, but in his heart he knew where she’d healed the most.
In Claire’s arms. Through her hugs, and kisses and their long talks as they sat together on the couch.
“I know, pumpkin. She makes a difference to everyone she meets.”
“What about you, Dad?”
Her eyes were round and innocent, but he recognized the determination in their depths. That same determination was what had kept Natalie alive far beyond the medical prognosis. It was what had allowed Claire to stand her ground with him for Sasha’s sake.
“I miss her, too.”
“Do you want her around all the time?” she asked.
“Sasha, she is around all the time.”
“You know what I mean, Dad.” Sasha tapped her eraser on the open book.
“I’ve been thinking, Dad. I’m tired of calling her Claire. I don’t want to call her Aunt Claire, either.”
“So? What do you want to call her?” He held his breath. Both their lives hinged on her reply.
“I want to call her Mom.”
She put her hands down on the table, a young girl verging on womanhood. “Dad, I’m not trying to replace Mom. In my heart I feel Mom loves Claire and brought her to me. I want to call her Mom because that’s what she is to me now.”
Dutch had to wait a moment to speak. Even so, tears burned his eyes and his vision blurred.
“You’re a lucky girl to have had two wonderful women in your life to call Mom.”
“Aw, Dad, I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you sad.”
“I’m not sad, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you I could burst. And I’ll let you in on something I suspect you’re already aware of.”
“What?”
“There’s one other name I’d like Claire to have. Ours. Archer.”
With a whoop, Sasha scrambled over to Dutch for a hug. All they needed to complete their circle was Claire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THREE BUSY WEEKS after the drama at the Sheep and Wool Festival, Claire sat in front of her vanity mirror and put on her makeup. She hoped that she’d be able to keep her cool through the next few hours. The shop was finally ready for the opening gala. She’d sent out invitations with one of the photos Sasha had taken of Nip and Tuck as a backdrop. The knitting group had pledged to come, along with all their friends and family. Her parents were coming.
Dutch and Sasha would be there; so would Dutch’s parents and Ginny.
Although they’d grown even closer ever since the festival, she’d been careful not to question the exact status of their relationship. She didn’t want Dutch to feel any pressure from her for something more permanent. She promised herself that she’d be grateful for their relationship as it was.
She smiled as she realized she couldn’t wait for him and Sasha to get here.
The twins had already arrived and were making her crazy.
“Don’t you want to wear a dressier outfit? This is a celebration!” Jewel turned up her nose at Claire’s white capri pants and simple mint-green blouse.
“Yes, it’s a celebration—in a cottage yarn shop, for heaven’s sake. And it’s a crab feast, not a candlelight dinner.” Claire silently cursed her shaking hand as she messed up her eyeliner for the second time.
“Here, let me get that for you. Sit on the bed.” Jenna stepped in and finished Claire’s makeup.
“I don’t look like a clown, do I?”
“No. You look absolutely beautiful, like a woman who’s about to start a new life for herself.” Jenna admired her own work.
“I did that almost three years ago.”
“But you’ve really changed these last six months. And now you’re opening up the yarn shop. You’ve been talking about it since you came back to Dovetail.”
Jewel stepped closer and studied Claire critically. “Good job, sis!” she said approvingly, then high-fived Jenna.
“Are you going to tell us the name of the shop yet?” Jenna asked.
“You guys didn’t look under the cover, did you?” Claire had gone to great pains to cloak the shop’s sign with a huge length of burlap. She’d pull it down tonight when all her guests were there.
“No, but how have you managed to keep it quiet for so long?”
“What about business cards, flyers, advertising?”
As the twins fired questions at her, she glanced at her alarm clock. Two hours and thirty-three minutes until the party.
“It wasn’t that difficult,” she replied. “I’ve had everything made up, but haven’t put any of it out yet. You saw the invitations—it said, the cottage shop at Llama Fiber Haven.”
“We don’t even get a hint?”
“We’ve helped you with so much of this!”
Claire held up her hands as if warding off vampires.
“No, I’m not telling. You’ll have to wait like everyone else.”
THE NIGHT WAS SULTRY, but with enough of a breeze to make it bearable. Claire had the air-conditioning on in the shop, but since her guests would enjoy a catered dinner under a tent adjacent to the cottage, she was grateful for the break in heat.
She’d lighted votives in lanterns shaped like sheep; they illuminated the path from the drive, where people could park, to the tent and shop.
Crabs steamed in the caterer’s huge pots, and long picnic tables were covered with brown butcher paper. Claire’s
invitations had said it was going to be a big crab feast, Maryland-style.
Claire made sure the coolers were full of water, sodas and beer. Wine chilled in tubs of ice on the serving tables.
All the physical details were complete. Claire looked up at the cottage, where she saw her parents and sisters standing together outside the shop, laughing. Claire loved her family. With a pang she acknowledged that she wanted one of her own someday.
Enjoy tonight for what it is. You have so much to be grateful for.
She knew this, but still couldn’t keep visions of Dutch and Sasha out of her mind. Dutch’s lovemaking was ardent and it was so easy to believe he had the same thoughts as she did about their future.
But he never talked about it. They never spoke of the past anymore, either. That was good. But was their future destined to remain unaddressed, as well?
CLAIRE CAME to the end of her brief welcoming speech. “Thank you all for coming. Now, there’s one more thing I want to do before we all pig out!” Claire smiled at her guests. There were more than seventy-five people, but she was most aware of one.
Dutch.
He watched her as he stood behind Sasha. They’d come to the cottage with the last group of arrivals.
Claire’s hands were sweating and her mouth was paper-dry. She reached up to pull on the makeshift hemp cord she’d attached to the store’s sign. The sign hung over the door and she had to walk to the side to get the burlap to slip off easily.
As the rustic fabric dropped to the ground, Claire smiled at her shop’s sign.
Natalie’s.
Some of the guests murmured, some let out soft gasps. Claire didn’t care about anyone’s reaction except Sasha’s and Dutch’s.
Sasha jumped up and down and clapped in appreciation. Tears started in Claire’s eyes. Her gaze landed on Dutch and, although he didn’t smile, his eyes sparkled and he was clapping, too. Was he holding back tears?
Claire stepped off the porch and walked over to Dutch and Sasha. “Is it okay with you?” She looked at Sasha, who hugged her in response.
“I love you, Claire.” Sasha’s voice was muffled by Claire’s shoulder. “Of course it’s okay.”
“I love you, too, kiddo.”
Claire looked up at Dutch.
“And you?” She needed to know he approved of the name.
“I love you, too, Claire.” Shock jolted through her and her expression must have shown her surprise as Dutch laughed aloud.
“Come here.” He embraced her in a hug that included all three of them.
“WAIT, DAD!” Sasha wriggled out from between Dutch and Claire as they sat on the couch in Claire’s living room. The guests were gone, the caterers had packed up. The three of them were curled up, relaxing after the evening’s events.
Sasha ran to the kitchen and came back carrying two huge shopping bags.
“First, this is for you, Dad. Claire and I did it.” Claire held her breath as Dutch took the bag, delighted by his startled expression.
“This is Claire’s night, Sasha.”
“It’s all of our nights, Dad. Just open it.”
Dutch pulled out the sweater and his hands stilled. “The sweater.” His voice was a whisper.
“I asked Claire to help me finish it and we did it, just like Mom would have wanted.”
“We owe Mr. Black some credit here, too,” Claire added. Dutch was so quiet—was he upset?
He reached out his hands to Sasha and drew her close. “Come here.” She went to her dad, smiling.
Dutch looked up at Claire. “Claire, you realize we’re all in this together now, don’t you?”
“I never had any doubt, Dutch.”
Sasha pulled away from her dad. “Now it’s Claire’s turn.” They nodded at each other and Dutch sat up. “This is for you, Claire.”
“What on earth?”
Dutch pulled a huge bouquet of red roses from the bag and gave them to Claire. She turned to him, then Sasha, then back to Dutch.
“Thank you so much. You shouldn’t have.”
“Wait a minute. We’re not done.” Sasha pulled out another bouquet, pink roses this time, and handed them to Claire. “These are from me.”
Claire laughed. “Okay, but you both didn’t—”
“We’re not done!” They spoke in unison, which made Claire laugh more.
Dutch removed a small box from his pocket.
A ring box.
Both Dutch and Sasha got down on their knees in front of the couch.
“Will you marry me?”
“Will you let me call you Mom?”
Tears streamed down Claire’s face. “You don’t have to do this. The shop will always be Natalie’s. It’s where Sasha and I spent so much time. The knitting and llamas and yarn tie us all together.”
“Claire, we planned this before we knew what the name of the store was going to be.” Dutch was still on his knees. “Answer me, Claire.”
Sasha stayed on her knees, too, and smiled at Claire. She knew the answer.
“Yes. Yes!” It was the easiest reply Claire had ever given. It came from her heart.
Sasha leaped up and hugged her so tightly that Claire toppled over and landed on her back. The two bouquets of roses spilled onto the coffee table.
Sasha jumped up. “Claire, I’m so sorry!” But she kept laughing.
Dutch’s face appeared in Claire’s vision before she had a chance to sit up.
“Right where I like you,” he whispered. He kissed her long and hard.
Dutch stood and helped Claire get back on her feet. He pulled her into his arms.
“I’m in love with you, Claire, and I want to be your husband. Will you have me?”
“I told you, Dutch, I’m not going anywhere.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5689-1
SASHA’S DAD
Copyright © 2010 by Geri Krotow.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
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