by Marie Force
“Anything.”
“Was it good for you?”
He leaned over to kiss her, pulling her tight against him with one arm. “It’s only been like that for me with one other woman. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten it could be that good.”
Pleased by his answer, Kate rested her cheek on her folded arm and studied his face, wanting to memorize every detail. “What was she like? Your wife?”
He thought about it for a moment before he replied. “She was sweet and very devoted to Ashton and me. He looks like her.”
“How did you meet her?”
“We went to high school together and kept in touch during college, even though we dated other people. When I came home from Berkeley, all I wanted was to be with her. We got married a few months later and had Ashton right away. He was only two, and we were talking about having another child when Cindy was killed.”
“What happened to her?”
“She’d been doing volunteer work at a hospital in the city and was on her way home when a truck crossed the center lane and hit her head on. The paramedics said she died instantly. I can only hope so.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said, caressing his face in an attempt to wipe away the grief she had stirred.
“It was a long time ago.”
“But you’re still sad about it.”
“I’ve come to realize you never really get over something like that. Somehow, you find a way to live with it. You know all about that, don’t you?”
Nodding, Kate shifted so she was on top of him and kissed his neck and face.
He put his arms around her. “It feels good to be in love again, Kate. No matter what happens, I’ll never have any regrets about that.”
As she moved on top of him, she felt him spring to life beneath her. “Can we do it again yet?”
“No, honey. You’ll be sore.”
He groaned when she straddled him and sank down on him.
“I’ll take my chances.”
They flew back to Nashville late on Tuesday afternoon. Reid glanced over at Kate from the pilot’s seat. “What’re you smiling about?”
“It’s a beautiful day.”
“It sure is.” He pushed aside the microphone on his headset so he could kiss her. “We need to talk about what’s going to happen when we get home, though.”
“I know.”
“You can’t tell anyone about this. About us.”
“I wish we didn’t have to hide it.”
“I do, too. But people wouldn’t understand, and it would cause me a lot of trouble.”
“I’ve only told one person.”
He looked at her with alarm. “Who?”
“My sister. Jill.”
“Jesus, Kate. She won’t tell your dad, will she?”
“I made her promise not to, and I trust her. We went through a lot together in the last couple of years. She won’t tell.”
“I hope not. I’m worried about how we get around Martha and the fact that Ashton’s your neighbor. This could get complicated.” Sensing her discouragement, he took her hand. “We’ll figure it out, darlin’. Don’t worry.”
They touched down a few minutes later. After they had dinner together at his house, she drove to her apartment. He picked her up at ten and brought her back to his house so her car wouldn’t be in the driveway. They spent the night in his room and were out the next morning before Martha got up.
“I feel like we got away with something,” she said on the way back into town.
“I hate sneaking around. I don’t want you to think for one minute that I’m ashamed of you, Kate. I adore you. I just don’t want to put either of us through what would happen if people found out about us.”
“It’s okay. We need some time to get used to it ourselves before the whole world finds out anyway.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing her when he dropped her off at her apartment before heading to work.
“See you tonight?”
“I can’t wait.”
Reid was in his office poring over plans for an office building in Knoxville when his secretary let him know Ashton was there to see him. Reid asked her to send him in.
“Hey. What brings you to my part of town?”
“I wanted to see my old man.” Ashton bent to give his father a quick hug. “Is that okay?”
Reid smiled, delighted that his son had never outgrown the easy affection between them. “It’s more than okay. What’ve you been up to?”
“Just working a lot, same old thing. How about you? You look beat. Are you sick?”
Since he could hardly admit to what he’d been doing the last two nights when he should’ve been sleeping, Reid shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Ashton paced in front of his father’s desk. Clearly, something else was on his mind. “I was wondering if you’ve talked to Kate.”
Reid’s gaze whipped up to meet his son’s. “Why?”
“Well, I was over there Sunday night, and she was a mess. She said she’d had a falling out with some guy she met at Mabel’s. But when I asked Butch if he knows the guy, he couldn’t remember her dating anyone while she worked there. Then I couldn’t reach her the last couple of days. She wasn’t answering her cell phone, and I’m just worried that something’s up with her. Do you think we should call her dad?”
“No,” Reid said emphatically—too emphatically, in fact. “No,” he said again in a more normal tone. “I’m sure she’d just had a bad day when you saw her.”
Ashton looked so dismayed that Reid realized his son might have feelings for Kate, too. Christ.
“Do you know anything about this guy she’s seeing?” Ashton asked, running a hand through his blond hair in frustration.
His heart raced as Reid looked his son in the eye. “I don’t know anything about it.”
Chapter 18
Clare worked late at the bookstore on Christmas Eve. When Bea finally turned over the Open sign and locked the door, the two women flopped into easy chairs in front of the fire.
“Thank God it’s over for another year,” Bea groaned.
“My feet are killing me.”
“I hope you didn’t overdo it.”
“No worries. I’ll take a hot bath when I get home. I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
“Speaking of tomorrow, the invite still stands. Why don’t you come with me?” Bea had invited Clare to Christmas dinner at her brother’s house in Burlington.
“Thanks, Bea, but I’m going to take it easy tomorrow. The girls will be up the day after, so we’ll celebrate then. I need to get their rooms ready and do some cooking. Aidan dragged the old stove and fridge back into the kitchen for me.”
“Are you sure being alone on Christmas is a good idea?”
“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the invite.”
“Well, if you change your mind, just give me a call in the morning,” Bea said as she hauled herself out of the chair to begin straightening up the store, which looked like a blitzkrieg had gone through it.
“You’ll be okay without me next week? I can come in if you get busy.”
“It’ll be slow. Mostly returns, so have fun with your girls and don’t worry about this place.”
Clare had come to enjoy the job—and her time with Bea—so much that she’d been relieved when Bea asked her to stay on at least through the Winter Festival in late January. Clare tugged on her parka, hat, and gloves for the walk home.
“Thanks again for all the help this month.” Bea gave Clare a quick hug. “You really saved me.”
“I think it was quite the other way around. Have a wonderful Christmas.”
“You, too.”
Clare stepped out into the cold. The tiny village twinkled with white lights in the shop windows. The sidewalks bustled with last-minute shoppers and the usual groups of skiers. Christmas music coming from speakers in front of the grocery store added to the festive atmosphere.
From the corner of Maple Street, Clare noticed Aid
an had plugged in the lights on the Christmas tree she’d put in the front window. The white lights glowed against the gold ornaments she had bought. Everything about this Christmas was foreign to her, but she was determined to make the best of it. Next year she would be back in Rhode Island with the girls. Maybe by then she’d be comfortable with the idea of spending the holiday with Jack, Andi, and their combined families. Hey, it’s a goal. That would be best for the girls. She hated the idea of them shuttling back and forth between their divorced parents on holidays.
If she’d ever had doubt about her decision to temporarily move to Stowe, she could now say she’d done the right thing. She felt stronger every day, both physically and emotionally. Lately, she’d been surprised to find herself thinking of Jack less frequently. In fact, she’d been startled to realize her thoughts seemed to revolve around Aidan rather than Jack these days. An interesting development, she mused.
Aidan hadn’t mentioned “the date” again in the ten days since he asked her, and Clare knew he wouldn’t ask a second time. The ball was firmly in her court. They’d continued their casual dinners together and kept up the lighthearted sparring, but there was an undercurrent between them now that hadn’t been there before he asked her out.
She came in through the front door to find him bent over, vacuuming the living room, and took a moment to admire the view. Clare had grown accustomed to him being there when she got home from the store. He was usually filthy from working all day, and his hair was often full of sawdust, but the grime and dust only added to his masculine appeal.
He sucked up the huge pile of sawdust he’d swept into the middle of the floor and turned off the vacuum.
“Hey,” he said. “When did you get home?”
“A minute ago. I was enjoying the sight of you cleaning my house.”
“I’m glad I’m available to entertain you,” he said dryly as he checked his watch. “I’ve got to hit the road in a few minutes.”
He was going to his parents’ home on Cape Cod for the holiday.
“I thought you would’ve left by now.”
“I wanted to finish one last thing in the bathroom so it’ll be ready for phase two when I get back.”
“You should get going. You have a long ride.”
“Are you sure you won’t come with me? I could have you back in plenty of time for the girls.”
“I’m sure. Thanks for asking, but I’m looking forward to a nice quiet day tomorrow.”
“So the idea of spending Christmas with my parents, my three obnoxious brothers, my sister, her husband, and their five kids doesn’t appeal to you?”
She laughed at his pained expression. “It sounds lovely. Don’t let me keep you.”
Raising an eyebrow, he said, “You’re awfully anxious to be rid of me. Is your boyfriend waiting outside for me to leave?” He took a peek out the window.
She smiled. “You just can’t seem to take a hint.”
“Do you mind if I borrow your shower? My mother will have a cow if I show up looking like this, and going home would take too long.”
“Feel free. Towels are in the closet behind the door.”
“Thanks.” He went out to his truck for a duffel bag and took it with him upstairs.
While he was in the shower, Clare went up to her temporary kitchen to make a couple of sandwiches and brew a thermos of coffee to send with him. She was back downstairs by the time he came down fifteen minutes later.
“How long will it take you to get there?” She turned and froze at the sight of him in a brown turtleneck sweater and jeans—with no holes—that hugged all the right places. His hair was still wet, his handsome face smooth after a shave. Holy cow.
He held her gaze with green eyes that danced with amusement and desire. “About four hours.”
Clare swallowed hard. “I made you some sandwiches and coffee.”
He looked pleased and surprised at the same time. “Once a mom, always a mom?”
She shrugged as she handed him the bag and caught a whiff of cologne that made her want to drool.
He took the bag from her and rested it next to his duffel on the floor. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”
Touched by his concern, she smiled. “I’m sure.”
“Well…” He started to turn toward the door but changed his mind so quickly that Clare had no time to gauge his intent before his lips were on hers and she was enveloped in his strong arms. To her great relief, the kiss didn’t match the flash of desire she’d seen in his eyes, almost as if he knew he needed to go easy with her. When he finally pulled away from her, he looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait another minute to do that.”
She looked up at him. “I’m glad you didn’t,” she said, going up on tiptoes to kiss him again. “You’d better go. It’s getting late.”
With great reluctance, he picked up his bag. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Remember—no crack-of-dawn mornings when the girls are here. They’re late sleepers.”
“Got it. Have a Merry Christmas.”
She walked him to the door. “You, too.”
With one last quick kiss, he was gone.
Clare watched him get into the truck and waved as he drove away. She flipped off the porch light, closed the door, locked it, and leaned back against it, willing her heart beat back to a normal pace. “Well,” she said to herself, “that was a surprise.” With a giggle, she added, “A very lovely surprise.”
Aidan called his mother from the road to let her know he’d gotten a late start. The last thing he wanted was to irritate everyone at Christmas by making Colleen O’Malley worry unnecessarily. For two hours after he’d finished working for the day, he kept himself busy with menial chores at Clare’s house while he waited for her to get home from the store. He’d wanted to be sure she was really okay before he left her alone for Christmas.
He couldn’t deny she stirred emotions in him that had lain dormant for so long he’d forgotten he had them. The aura of vulnerability about her generated a powerful urge to protect her from whatever she was running from. He was also amazed by just how badly he wanted to know what had caused the haunted look he saw from time to time in those amazing blue eyes of hers.
Hours later, he was still thinking of her at home alone on Christmas Eve as he drove toward the Sagamore Bridge at the entrance to Cape Cod. Yawning, he reached for his cell phone and was glad he’d thought to program her number in earlier. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m getting tired. Keep me company?”
“I’d love to. Where are you?”
“Almost to the Cape, and then I’ve got about an hour to Chatham.”
“Has your family always lived there?”
“Almost forty years, since right after my parents got married.”
Clare groaned. “Oh, God, O’Malley, you’re not even forty?”
He laughed. “Not quite. Is that a problem?”
“I’m six, no wait, almost seven years older than you?”
“Lucky for me you look about twenty-two.”
“Ugh, I should cut my losses and head for the hills.” In truth, he was thrilled to hear her acknowledge that “something” was going on between them. “This is just too embarrassing.”
“Have I told you I love older women?”
“Good save,” she said in the dry tone she did so well. “Tell me about your family.”
“That’s a story and a half.”
“I’ve got time if you do.”
“All right, let’s see. My parents, Colleen and Dennis, grew up on the same block in South Boston. My dad’s parents were Irish immigrants, but he was born in the city. My mom emigrated from Ireland with her parents when she was ten. Granny Fitz, my mother’s mom, swore to her dying day that my mother set her sights on my father on her second day in Boston. He was four years older than her, and from what we always
heard, he never stood a chance.”
Clare laughed. “I like her already.”
“Yeah, she’s a pistol. Our favorite story about them happened when she was nineteen. She allegedly dragged our poor father out of a smoke-filled pub in Dorchester and issued an ultimatum on the sidewalk in front of his drinking buddies. ‘It’s either them or me, Dennis O’Malley,’” Aidan mimicked in a wicked Irish brogue. “‘Take your pick.’”
“She did not!”
“Did so. According to legend, the fire in her green eyes brought young O’Malley to his knees, and with a wistful look at the lads, he said, ‘Why, you, love. Of course I choose you.’ She had him in front of the parish priest less than two weeks later. Right after the wedding—and much to Da’s dismay—she moved them to Chatham. Da was devastated. ‘All my friends are in Boston,’ he lamented.”
“She was no fool.”
“That’s right. Mum said, ‘Exactly. Now find a way to make a living here, Dennis O’Malley, because there’re going to be babies. Lots of them.’ So Da did as he was told, using the only marketable skill he had to build a construction business. O’Malley Construction was slow to catch on, and I remember a childhood long on love but short on frivolous extras.”
“Tell me you were born right after their wedding, and you’ll be forty very soon.”
“Ten months to the day after their wedding. I’ll be forty in February. Is that soon enough?”
“I guess it’ll have to do.”
“My brother Brandon was born a year after me. Two years later came Colin followed by Declan the next year. Brandon, Colin, and I were named for Mum’s older brothers, who broke her heart by staying behind in Ireland when she and her parents moved to America. We grew up fascinated by her stories about the uncles, and for years she begged Da to fly her brothers over. The business had finally begun to make some decent money when he gave in and brought the ‘boys’ over for a three-week visit. Well, the boys had grown into men in the twenty or so years since she’d last seen them.” Aidan smiled at the memory. “They tore through Chatham like a tornado the summer I was eleven. They brawled their way through every bar in town, and after they left, at least five local girls claimed they’d fathered their babies. They left a big impression on us, and suffice it to say, Mum never mentioned a return visit.”