by Cindy Miles
They hadn’t known each other a terribly long time, but they’d connected. They’d reached a level of intimacy that went beyond physical. When they talked, they listened. They encouraged. They inspired. He’d felt a connection once before, to Addie, and he’d always hold her in a special place—a locked treasure box inside his heart. At first, after Black had finally been caught and imprisoned, Nathan and Sean had many long talks. Some lasting well into the early morning on days Nathan wasn’t out on the Tiger Lily with his father. He’d told Sean how he’d met Addie, and how he’d loved her. The devastation he’d felt as she’d disappeared from his sight in the raging sea. Sean had listened carefully, without offense. Without judging. She’d let Nathan get things off his chest, and ever since, Addie had found a place to rest inside his heart. Thoughts of Addie rarely crossed his mind anymore. They’d loved, and they’d lost. He and Addie hadn’t been the only ones.
Sean had lost, too. Never could Nathan have imagined such loneliness as the life Sean had led before having Willa. Growing up with such a loving family, it was hard for him to grasp the fact that Sean’s mother had literally abandoned her in the hospital. Her father had been nonexistent, apparently. No one had ever claimed baby Sean. From that moment of being abandoned on, she’d gone from one foster home to the next. It was a comfort to know Sean recalled nice foster families. Yet, despite the kindness, she’d ended up on the streets. Living a life no kid—no person—should ever have to endure.
Nathan recalled birthdays, Christmas mornings when he and his younger brothers would creep down and hide on the stairs, just to try to catch a glimpse of Santa leaving gifts under the tree. Had Sean ever experienced a truly happy Christmas? Had she ever hunted Easter eggs? Or dressed up for Halloween? Image after image of his childhood flashed, and with them happy, magical times. It pained him to think of Sean on the streets on Christmas Eve, alone. No tree. No gifts. No family to love.
Things would be different for Sean now. She’d know all of those wonderful and magical childhood dreams. So she’d discover them as an adult? It was never too late to start, to his way of thinking.
Sean had divulged every sordid detail of her life on the streets, and Nathan had a difficult time putting that young kid inside the Sean he knew now. Going hungry. Eating out of Dumpsters. Drinking. Drugs.
In a way, she, too, had been swallowed up. By the system. By the streets. But unlike Addie, Sean had kicked her way to the surface. She’d found a way to breathe. She’d survived.
No, more than that, she’d thrived.
Despite that lonely childhood, despite the controlling environment Black had forced her into, Sean had risen above it all. She’d escaped. Had obtained her GED. Had raised a sweet, bright, witty little girl. And Sean was just as bright, just as brilliant, and had more love in her heart than anyone Nathan had ever met.
In some ways, she reminded Nathan of his mom. Funny, how that went sometimes.
Nathan knew he wanted Sean to be his wife, and Willa to be his daughter. He wanted to adopt Willa, give them both his name. The Malone name. And with that name came an entire family. A tightly woven unit of love.
And he’d ask Sean and Willa both, when the time was not just merely right.
But absolutely, unforgettably perfect.
Sean was grinning now, the softest of curves lifting the corners of her lips, and she reached for his hand, sliding hers into it. She gave it a firm yet ladylike shake. He liked the feel of her small hand in his. Slender fingers, a feather-light touch. She was delicate, strong, fierce all at once.
“My name’s Sean,” she said sweetly. “I’m the very last woman you’ll ever need to meet.”
Nathan’s heart surged as Sean looked at him, those eyes filled with trust.
“Is that so?” Nathan asked, shaking her hand. He lifted it to his mouth, brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Well, I’m Nathan Malone,” he said, “and I’m the very last man you’ll ever need to meet.”
Sean grinned, and pressed another kiss to his lips, and she smiled against them. “I know,” she whispered.
Nathan pulled back, watched the last of the sun’s rays play across her skin, warming her cheeks to a pink, and making her pixie-like hair shine.
Yeah, it’d be perfect. When he’d ask Sean to marry him, he’d ask not only Sean, but Willa, too. He’d ask them both to be a family. His family.
Become a Malone. Forever.
“What is going on in that noggin of yours?” Sean asked, nuzzling his neck. “I think I see smoke.”
Nathan stared at her, grinning.
“You know? From your brain’s wheels spinning round and round?”
Nathan pulled her close once more, pressing a kiss to her neck, her collarbone, her ear. “Oh, you know,” he whispered. “I love you,” he said against her skin.
Sean leaned back, and those large hazel eyes turned wet. The corners of her mouth lifted, and she was the most perfect girl.
Perfect for him in every way.
“I love you, Nathaniel Malone,” she said, smiling. Her fingers twined in with his.
“Oh, you two,” Willa called from the cab. “I’m starving over here!”
Sean’s gaze turned bright as she giggled, and Nathan smiled. He saw Sean to her side of the truck and settled her in, then as he rounded the hood he drew a deep breath and looked out over the marsh.
His girls had saved him.
He’d spend the rest of his life protecting them.
A smile tugged at his mouth as he climbed in, and an old blues song wafted over the river from Emily’s record player as they ambled down the drive.
He’d be the last man Sean and Willa Jacobs would ever need to meet.
“How do you know where we’re going, Captain Nathan?” Willa asked as they drove along the river road, watching the sun sink over the water. A few stars had already popped out, and they twinkled in the fading dusk.
Nathan pointed to one particular bright one. “First star to the right then straight on till morning,” he said, and Willa squealed and laughed, and Nathan’s heart surged once more.
He’d found his Neverland.
Rather his Foreverland.
With his two girls.
He’d forever be grateful to fate for that one.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from ETHAN’S DAUGHTER by Rachel Brimble.
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Ethan’s Daughter
by Rachel Brimble
CHAPTER ONE
THE RISING WIND blew off the ocean onto Templeton Cove’s promenade and Leah Dixon pulled her jacket closer around her body. Even though it was only September, the weather was already turning typically British. If she hadn’t stopped for a friendly chat with a few of the locals, she would have been home from her shift at the hospital an hour ago.
She looked to the beach and shivered as the first drop of rain spattered her glasses.
No one needed to get caught in one of Templeton’s rainstorms. The Cove and its coastal location meant it was prone to flooding, and when Mother Nature decided to scream her wrath there was little chance of escape for anyone.
Ducking her head, Leah glanced back and forth across the deserted beach as she hurried toward her small cottage just off the main street.
She suddenly drew to an abrupt halt.
Squinting, she walked to the railing. Was that a child out there on her own? It couldn’t be. “Oh, my God.”
Leah sprinted across the beach as the heavens opened, sending down an icy-cold deluge. The little girl, who couldn’t have been any older than six or seven, was throwing rocks into the incoming tide, relaxed and seemingly happy, as though it were a midsummer evening. Her track pants, denim jacket and open sandals would do little to stop her from getting soaked in five minutes flat.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Leah slowed as she came closer, not wanting to frighten her. “What are you doing out here on your own?”
The little girl turned, her dark, curly hair loose about her shoulders, her blue eyes sad. “Hello.”
Was that all this little one had to say to her? Leah swallowed and forced a smile as she surreptitiously looked about them, in search of an adult to whom this gorgeous creature belonged. “Hi, sweetie. Where’s your mum?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you lost?”
“No. I live here.”
“Here?” Leah frowned, fighting the urge to take the little girl’s hand and warm it between her own. “In the Cove?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But you don’t know where your mum is?”
“No, she left me and Daddy a long time ago.”
Deeper sadness seeped into the girl’s eyes and Leah’s self-control buckled. She offered her hand. “I see. Well, why don’t you come with me and I’ll help you find your daddy. Or is someone else looking after you?”
“Daddy’s working.” The little girl slipped her hand far too easily, far too trustingly, into Leah’s. “He’s always working. My name’s Daisy James. What’s yours?”
“Leah. Leah Dixon.” She firmly clasped Daisy’s hand and started to lead her back to the promenade steps. “So are you here with someone else while Daddy’s working?”
“No. I came out on my own. I was looking for some friends to play with.”
Leah briefly closed her eyes as ugly images reared in her mind. She knew them far too well, from working in Templeton’s ER for the last eight years. Anything could’ve happened to this sweet baby. Anything. “Well, I tell you what, Daisy. Why don’t you tell me where you live and I’ll get you home before we’re both soaked through. How will that be?”
Daisy smiled for the first time, her eyes bright even as the rain plastered her curls flat to her head. “That will be good. Thank you.”
Leah smiled back, itching to give Daisy a hug. “You’re welcome. Do you know your address?”
“Sure. I live on Clover Point. Our cabin is called King’s Korner. With a K.”
“Huh.” Leah nodded, already forming a picture of the little girl’s father. “Did your daddy name the cabin? Fancies himself a king, does he?”
“No.” Daisy giggled. “I think it’s because of a writer he likes.”
“Hmm...why don’t we get you home and I can ask him myself.”
Hand in hand, she led Daisy along the promenade toward Clover Point, situated at the far end of the Cove. Although they walked as fast as possible, it took them a good twenty minutes. Leah’s blood was boiling. How long had Daisy been gone from home for her father to not notice her missing? Worse, what if she was lying for her father and he’d actually sent her out alone so he could get some precious work done?
A hundred and one parents had come up with the same sorry words as she’d stitched and bandaged up their bored kids, who’d sought out their own unsupervised fun.
Night was falling quickly and, with only the old-fashioned streetlights to aid their ascent, Leah’s temper steadily grew with each trudging step. The only people they saw on this wet and windy night were a man cycling past them on his way farther up the point and a woman running in the opposite direction.
With the increasing ferocity of both wind and rain, Leah would normally be running herself as she made her way home.
“This is our house.” Daisy pulled her hand from Leah’s and hurried up the gravel driveway toward the log cabin. “Come on.”
The cabin was about halfway up Clover Point, which meant it was one of the most affluent properties in the Cove. Which also meant Daddy Dearest wasn’t short of a penny or two. Her irritation rising, Leah hurried after Daisy, who stood waiting on the front step.
Lamps flickered through the living room window; the curtains were open, showcasing the beamed ceiling and what looked to be lots of brown leather furniture. Overflowing bookshelves were visible in the background, some sort of wooden elephant ornament stood on the windowsill, and beige drapes curled at the window’s edges.
At least Daisy’s father seemed to be home, even if his taste in decor held the colorless appeal of the Dickensian.
To the right of the front door, the kitchen/dining room stretched all the way to the back of the house. Even in the semidarkness, Leah could see straight through to some French doors at the rear, the only illumination coming from the overhead light of the stove as it glinted on steel toward the center of the room.
Snapping her gaze to Daisy, Leah found her opinions on personal tastes flying to the wayside. The little girl’s eyes were wide as she chewed her bottom lip. Leah frowned. “Are you all right, sweetheart? Do you want me to knock?”
Daisy nodded and raised her arms toward Leah as though asking to be picked up. “Yes, please. Daddy might be mad.”
“Oh, Daddy won’t be mad.” Leah bent and picked her up, hitching her onto her hip as Daisy’s arms wound around her shoulders. “If Daddy’s mad, I’ll show him how to calm himself down real quick. Don’t you worry about that.” She lifted the brass knocker and let it fall a little harder than necessary.
No answer.
Narrowing her eyes, she knocked again.
She was readying to knock a third time when the door swung open.
“I told you to get the hell out of here and not come back.” The man’s dark hair sprouted from every angle, his raging eyes bulged and his right hand was swathed in a blue-and-white—and bloodied—dish towel. His gaze held Leah’s for a split second before he snapped his attention to Daisy.
“My God, Daisy. What are you...?” He cupped her under her armpits, wincing slightly as he pulled her from Leah’s arms to hold her close. He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple.
Leah stared, completely stunned by this flannel-shirted, blue-jeaned, incredibly good-looking man...despite the bulging eyes. She coughed in a bid to find her voice. “Mr. James?” She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re Daisy’s father, I presume?”
Apparently, when his eyes had softened and were filled with regret rather than rage, they looked good. Really good. Leah stepped back.
Oh, good Lord. She’d be damned if those weren’t the eyes of Templeton’s reclusive novelist, Ethan James.
* * *
ETHAN INHALED AGAINST the slam dunk of s
hame versus relief that had hit him in the chest when he’d seen Daisy in a stranger’s arms. Albeit a beautiful stranger. “Yes. Yes, I am. Ethan James. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his left hand, balancing Daisy on his right hip and forearm. “Thank you so much for bringing her back. Where was she?”
The stranger ignored his offered hand, her hazel eyes flashing dangerously even as rain dripped from her blond bangs and slipped behind her glasses. “Why would you not know where your child is at all times?”
“I thought...” He stepped back into the hallway. “Look, why don’t you come in? I’ll put some coffee on. You’re soaked.”
She snatched a look behind him. “Thank you, but no. I just want to know why your little girl was wandering alone on the beach—”
“The beach?” He turned to his daughter. “Why were you on the beach? Why would you leave the house?”
Daisy sniffed and burrowed her face into his neck. Ethan’s heart hitched at the depth of his neglect. Nausea rose bitter in his throat and he looked to the woman who’d brought his precious baby home. “I was caught up with something. I really can’t thank you—”
“Caught up with something?” Her eyes narrowed. “As in work?”
Whether rightly or wrongly, he suddenly felt defensive. “Hey, I’m trying my best, okay?”
“No, not okay.”
Her glare was mean, yet justified. He slumped his shoulders and shifted Daisy onto his other hip, his right hand throbbing as warm blood trickled over his wrist. The woman’s gaze snapped to his injured hand and he held it behind his back. “Look, I need to... Why don’t you come in? I really appreciate you bringing Daisy home. The least I can do is offer you coffee and a towel.”
She frowned. “What have you done to your hand?”
Damn it. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She raised her eyebrows. “That dishcloth is doing a pretty bad job of soaking up nothing.” Sighing, she waved him back and stepped into the hallway. “Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll take a look.”