"You cut your hair." she said, bringing the focus back to him.
No longer touching the collar of the blue polo shirt he donned today, his earth-toned hair lay in a style she immediately admired, longish on top, short at the sides and back.
"Yesterday," he replied. "When I came into town to meet with Cheryl Mosley to discuss the annual goals for the science department."
"How'd it go?" She would not think about him working with a former girlfriend.
He shrugged. "I'm sure she'd rather I teach elsewhere, but that's not going to happen."
"No?"
"No," he said firmly, then his grin turned impish. "So, does the hair pass?"
Without thinking, she reached up and pushed her fingers into the crown, where sunshine glimmered. For a heartbeat their eyes held.
"Addie."
"I..." Words failed. I've always loved your hair... I love how you smell... You make my heart beat funny... She saw he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him.
Gruffly he said, "We need to catch the ferry," and set a hand to the small of her back to guide her to his car. "Might as well ride in comfort," he said, opening the passenger door of the Prius.
They drove to the ferry landing in silence. There he pulled up, fourteenth in line to board, and remained close-mouthed. Her peripheral vision caught the shift of his muscular thighs as he stretched his legs.
Today he wore a pair of fashionably faded jeans and leather loafers. His feet were bare; dark hair dusted the arches. Years ago, she had seen him completely naked. With the sight of his bare feet resurrecting those moments, an arrow of heat stabbed her belly.
To dispense her diffidence, she said, "You haven't said a word for ten minutes."
He took in the car in front of them. "I want to kiss you, Addie. More than I remember ever wanting to kiss a woman."
"Oh." More heat. She touched her tongue to her lip, ran a finger along the strap of the purse in her lap. "So do I. You, I mean."
"I know." He said it artlessly, without ego or smugness.
He turned his head and his dark gaze skimmed her body, from the crown of her hair—which she'd let wave down her back— to her yellow tank top and tan skirt, down her bare legs to her yellow Camper Twins shoes. "You look incredible," he said. "More beautiful than I remember."
Her skin warmed. "Thanks. I don't often have a chance to dress up." Now why had she said that? He'd think she had no life.
And that was a surprise? Except for teaching, when was the last time she'd dressed for a man?
Heck, when was the last time a man looked at her with any curiosity? Dempsey, nine years ago—for about ten minutes, if she were honest with herself.
"That being the case—" Skip's presence pushed Dempsey into the distance. "I'll take you to dinner every week so you have an excuse to wear your pretty clothes."
Vehicles began to move onto the ferry. "Not necessary," she said.
"I'd like to, anyway." He drove into the parking hull, found a spot and shut off the motor. Reaching behind, he took their jackets from the rear seat. "Want to stand on the upper deck, have the wind blow in our faces?"
Oh, yes. Addie wanted very much to do exactly that. To stand there with Skip sounded fun and adventurous.
When the ship was underway, they climbed the stairs to the top deck and went out a side door. The sun was brilliant, the wind warm and the water flecked with diamonds. Farther out, two seagulls floated among the foot-high waves, while closer a small flock flew leisurely beside the ship.
Addie gripped the railing and laughed. "This is wonderful. Do you always come out here when you ride the ferry?"
"Depends on the weather."
"I could get addicted."
From behind, he set his arms around her waist. "Me, too," he murmured, and she knew he wasn't talking ferry rides.
Suddenly, she admitted what she had suppressed for years.
She loved Skip Dalton.
And it had nothing to do with the scent of the sea, nothing to do with the contented gulls, the sparkling waves or the way the wind whipped his dark brown hair back from his forehead. It was her skin shivering at the sound of his voice, her pulse racing at the sight of him, her breath rushing at his touch.
She leaned against his chest, felt his embrace—and for the first time since she was seventeen, bliss stole her heart.
Chapter Eleven
By noon they still hadn't found a truck she liked or could afford and Skip could sense her frustration building.
"Let's have lunch and consider the options," he said when they drove away from the fourth dealership.
"What options?"
"Food first."
She rested her head against the seat. "Fine."
To get her mind off her worries, he selected the functional chaos of Pike Place Market.
"I could spend a week here and never see enough," she said, her blue eyes finally full of the delight he'd hoped to achieve.
"It's one of my favorite spots in Seattle." Taking her hand, he led her down the cobblestone street to the Main Arcade.
There they watched the fishmongers tossing salmon at the Pike Place Fish Company, and decided that next time they would bring Becky and Michaela to see Rachel the Bronze Piggy Bank and the street performers along Post Alley.
He took her to the Sisters Cafe where they ate focaccia sandwiches and bowls of homemade clam chowder. Skip watched the pleasure cross Addie's face, yet her first thought was always of the children.
"They would love this," she'd say, or "I can just imagine their eyes...."
Oh, he could imagine, too. All he had to do was look at Addie.
Meal finished, they toured the day booths. Addie bought the girls trinkets and told him that someday—when she acquired the money—she hoped to rent a booth and sell her honey at Pike Place.
He laid his arm across her shoulders, tucked her close. She smelled great, a blend of sunshine and ocean wind. "If you want to do it this fall, I can loan you the money."
"Thanks, Skip. Don't take this wrong, but I won't be obliged to you or anyone. I pay my own way."
"Understood, except there goes my option proposal." Smiling, he ignored the tension slipping across her shoulders.
"Which was?" Wariness narrowed her eyes.
Feigning an ease he didn't feel, he continued to wander the noisy street. "That if you can't find a good used truck, I'll buy you a new one, which," he added hurriedly, "you'd pay back through affordable increments without interest."
She stopped, turned so his arm fell away. Pushing a hand through her hair, she sighed. "Look. I really appreciate your offer, but I will not now or ever be dependent on a man again."
"Is that what your ex did? Keep you dependent?" The questions were trapped between them before he considered the consequences—that she would tell him to mind his own business.
Instead, she looked away. "He tried."
Behind them, a man strummed a guitar and sang the blues. The dark lyrics fit Skip's mood. Every day, he discovered another facet about the kind of life Addie had endured while he played football, basked in fan idolization and lived at the high end of style.
If he could obliterate it all, including the bank accounts, to have had her and Becky at his side throughout the past decade, he would.
"Tell me about him, Addie."
She began walking again. "He was ten years older and managed Burnt Bend Auto Repairs as one of their main mechanics."
"How did you meet him?"
"I needed a new water pump for my car. He installed it and when I came to pay, he asked if I'd like to go for a coffee. We chatted and he seemed more knowledgeable about world issues than I expected."
"Him being blue collar and all."
"Yes, snooty as it sounds. And he looked a lot like someone I remembered." She shot him a look.
Skip almost stumbled. "You married him because he looked like me?"
"Sometimes desperation will make you do things you don't recognize are wro
ng."
Guilt bit hard. He thought of his mother's disclosure concerning her marriage to his father, about their skewed view of the future, of his future.
"And," she continued, "I liked his smile. It reached his eyes. Plus, he had a wit, which I needed."
Yes, Skip imagined she would've needed laughter in her life during those days. "Were you teaching then?"
"Tenth-grade science and math. Which sometimes intimidated Dempsey. He was clever in world politics, but he had difficulty with numbers. He'd barely completed high school."
Skip understood Dempsey Malloy's sense of inadequacy. Sometimes, he'd felt helpless beside the girl who had jumped a grade in elementary school and took advanced math in high school. Addie should have had her future in medicine, a future she'd wanted since she was five years old and able to do seventh-grade math.
She said. "When Michaela was born he wanted me to be a stay-at-home mother, I agreed."
And no doubt fell into a routine that got harder to break with the passing years. "He didn't want you to go back to work." Skip observed.
"No. He thought it was great that I took over the bees when my dad died. It was a job he could understand."
And it put you on equal par, Skip thought. He wished Dempsey Malloy had never laid eyes on Addie. "What attracted him to you?"
"My mouth."
He snorted a laugh. "Your mouth?"
"He thought I was a good kisser."
Jealousy bashed like a fist. Of course, she had kissed the man. On hundreds more occasions than she'd kissed Skip.
He would not contemplate where Malloy had kissed Addie.
Skip guided her across Western Avenue toward the parking lot; time to continue the truck hunt. "Did you love him?" he asked casually, though his breathing labored.
"Not at first. But eventually I realized there were different levels of love." She cast him a look. "What about you? Did you fall in love with someone?"
"No. There were women, nice women, but..." How could he describe it? How could he say I compared all of them to you? She wouldn't believe him, not with his reputation still fresh in her mind, a reputation he'd created by flaunting those women, as well as his status. "It didn't happen."
He opened the passenger door of his car. "Maybe," she said, "it was meant to be. Had you been involved or married, you might never have bothered looking for Becky."
"You're probably right," he admitted.
She smiled, laid her hand against his cheek. "I think we've both suffered enough, don't you?" With that, she got into the car.
He walked around, slid behind the wheel. Staring ahead, he said. "I'll never hurt you again, Addie."
"Oh, Skip. That's an impossible promise. We'll hurt each other again, there's no getting around it, if..." Her eyes gripped his.
"If what?" he asked softly.
Pink spread across her cheeks. "We begin again."
Having a relationship. The words swayed between them. His lips bowed. Leaning over the console, he slid his fingers under her hair at the back of her neck, kissed her, feather touches here, then there.
And when she opened her mouth he moved in, let his tongue speak the language rushing into his groin.
Her taste spiced his blood, dizzied his head. He curved her hair behind her ear, pulled the lobe gently into his mouth.
"Addie," he whispered. When her small hand settled on his thigh, he thought he would explode. On a groan, he caught her fingers and brought them to his mouth. "I want to make love with you again," he said against her fingertips, and kissed each separately, lost in her. I love you, he wanted to say, but worried she would retreat, physically. Emotionally.
"We were..." Her throat moved. "We were going to check two more dealerships."
"Yeah." He sighed. There was the matter of her truck.
"Skip." Her fingers squeezed his hand. "When the time's right, it'll happen."
To make love.
For him the right time was now. All they needed was a room, a bed and privacy. But he'd promised to find her a vehicle.
"I know." He kissed her again. A soft, sweet touch of lips.
After turning the ignition, he backed out of the stall and drove from the Pike Place Market.
At a stoplight, she said quietly, "Maybe tonight." She smiled shyly.
"Okay." His throat closed.
Focusing on the traffic, he heard his heart thump in his ears. Fact was had she asked him to wait a lifetime, he would've agreed.
But he much preferred maybe tonight.
At five-thirty, Addie found a small green crew cab truck in excellent condition with low mileage and a price she could afford.
"You'll never find a better truck," the salesman—Derrick, according to his gold name tag—told her.
She didn't like him. Thirty minutes he'd been hovering at her shoulder, pressuring her with his litany of "wonderful pluses" as she checked out the vehicles that caught her interest.
To cut their search time in half, Skip had gone across the street to the Dodge dealership, while she explored the Fords.
"You're not familiar with trucks, are you?" Derrick asked.
"I've owned one before," she said.
"Did you buy it?"
"I got it from my father."
He smirked. "Most ladies get vehicles from the men in their families."
Pompous ass. If he called her the little woman, she was out of there—after she told him what he could do with his trucks.
But she wanted this vehicle. "What's your best offer?"
"Oh, we can't go lower than what's listed. That's a rock-bottom price you won't beat anywhere."
"Five thousand less?" she insisted.
Derrick shook his head. "Ma'am, you obviously don't know prices. A jewel of a truck like this—"
"Problems?" Skip asked, coming to stand beside Addie.
The man stared. "Hey, aren't you Skip Dalton from the Broncos?"
"Long time ago."
Derrick stuck out his hand, as well as his chest. "Welcome, Mr. Dalton. We get a lot of celebrities looking for vehicles."
"You like this truck?" Skip asked Addie.
"It might work."
Derrick said to Skip, "I was just telling the little lady that she'd be getting a real prize. Give me an offer and we'll see if we have a match."
Skip didn't hesitate. "Six thou off."
The salesman's smile cooled. "I'll see what we can do, Mr. Dalton. Would you like to take it for a test drive?"
"We would. And, Derrick? Don't call my friend 'the little lady' if—" he smiled lazily "—you don't want her calling you the little man."
Addie bit her lip to hold back her laughter as the salesman scurried off. "That was worth the price," she said.
His eyes flashed anger. "I hate arrogance, especially when it involves guys in the company of women."
Her humor died. "I was handling him, Skip."
"You shouldn't have to handle anyone. And for damn sure not jerks like him."
A splinter of ire poked. Did he think her life would be trouble-free now that he'd entered the picture? "Are you planning to run to my rescue every time?"
"That's not the point."
"Isn't it? You rescued Becky, and now you want to rescue me every chance you get." Vexed, she started for the dealership offices.
"Is that so wrong?" he called after her.
She turned. "I won't be your means to an apology and I won't make you mine."
"Jeez, I hope not. I think we've done our share of apologizing." He walked toward her, touched her cheek with the back of one large knuckle. "You matter to me, Addie. That's what this is about. You don't have to like what I say or do. Question is, can you accept it?"
"For Becky, I'll do anything."
He frowned. "I don't want you accepting me for Becky's sake. She's as much yours as mine. I have no ownership over her. If you would rather have nothing to do with me, just say so. It won't change what you hope to develop with Becky. I'd never interfere in that."
/> In his eyes there was truth, and it humbled her. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." His smile was sad. The lowering sun washed shadows onto his jaw, darkening the day's beard growth that had lightly scratched her skin during their kiss at Pike Place, and suddenly she was tempted to step forward and set her mouth on his, but he was nodding to the auto-dealer offices. "Our guy is coming with a license plate."
Forty minutes later, the paperwork done and the extras such as new floor mats and mud flaps included, she drove her new pickup from the lot and followed Skip's Prius to an Italian restaurant along the waterfront for dinner. There she called Kat.
"We're catching the eight-thirty ferry," she told her sister. "We'll be there to pick up the girls around nine-thirty. I want to check out the house first, see how much Zeb got done today."
"It's all done, except for the inside work and replacing the dryer," Kat informed her.
"Really?" Addie had thought it would take the retired logger several days to repair the outside wall alone.
"Well, I haven't seen it, but that's what he said when he came by an hour ago. Look, why not stay there? The kids are settled watching Eight Below with a load of popcorn."
"I can't do that to you, Kat. You have a business to run."
"I have one new customer and she's leaving on Sunday. Besides the girls asked and I said yes."
Addie looked across the table at Skip, who was pouring the beer they'd ordered into a pair of glasses. "You don't play fair."
"Take this night, Addie. Do it."
She turned sideways, pretending to look at the lights on the water, and lowered her voice. "What do I tell the kids?"
"No problem. I've already told them you'll be sleeping in your own house to make sure the repairs to the wall are safe. Michaela worried the wind might blow it in."
"You put her up to that, didn't you?"
Kat giggled. "I take the fifth."
Addie glanced at Skip watching her with those melted-honey eyes. "Let me talk to the girls."
"Have a great night, sis," Kat said. "It's time." Then she called to the children and both Addie and Skip barely got a word in amidst their excitement to be staying another night with Kat and Blake.
Their Secret Child Page 14