Which was making him nuts.
Toss in that off-the-charts hot kiss he and Hattie had shared and he was really a goner. Being anywhere near her without touching her was proving incredibly hard.
Which was why when Hattie finally came home at 1:00 a.m. on a Tuesday night, he all but pounced on her when she walked through the door—at least, verbally. Physically, he kept his hands to himself. “It’s about time you got here. Don’t you have employees without kids who could take over your late night shifts?”
She froze midway through the process of removing her bulky coat. “Maybe you’re not familiar with how businesses work, but if I pay out more in salaries than I take in, that’s not a good thing.”
“You know what I mean.” He returned to the living room to pick up where he’d left off reading an online article about infants’ strong sense of smell. “If you’re hungry, I figured out a fairly decent pork-chop recipe. Left a plate for you in the fridge.”
“Thanks.”
He was trying. Why couldn’t she?
Might be childish, but he refused to even look her way while she banged and clattered through the kitchen. She acted as if she was furious with him, but why? What the hell had he done other than bend over backward trying to make her life easier?
He hadn’t even helped her with taking her coat off—not out of a lack of courtesy, but because he feared what the seemingly simple act of touching her may unleash.
Once the microwave dinged, she removed her plate to park at the kitchen bar with her back to him.
Really? She was going to sit there, eating his food without saying a single word? Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy.
He got up from the sofa, rounded the counter to face her and braced his palms on the granite countertop. “Am I so repulsive that you can’t even look at me while eating the meal I prepared?”
For the longest time, she stared at him, then had the gall to laugh—but it wasn’t her ordinary laugh; it was more in the range of a guffaw with snorting and side-tears. “I’m sorry, but you sound like a housewife.”
“Glad you think it’s funny. I’d like to see you sit here, caring for two babies day after day. I’m going out of my mind.”
“I can tell.” Sobering, she toyed with her green beans. “Me, too. Sorry, I haven’t been sharing the workload around here.”
“I could give two shits about laundry or burping, but I could really just use a friend. So many guys on my team have kids and they ramble on about how great it is. Maybe I’m approaching this whole thing in too clinical a manner, but as cute as Viv and Van are, when I look at them, I see what their parents did to me. I loved Melissa. Alec was like a brother.” Hands fisted, he slammed them to the counter. “Being back has stirred up all this crap I thought was behind me, you know?”
Boy, did she know. Hattie knew all too well what Mason meant, only in her case, it wasn’t anger rising from the deep, but so much more. More than anything, she longed to take his hands, unclench his fingers, then kiss them one by one until his anger faded.
“The more I’m around the girls, caring for them, showing them genuine love every day, the more I realize this is no joke. But how can I love them when thinking about how they came into this world brings me nothing but pain? Nothing—save for losing my mom—has ever hurt as bad as Melissa and Alec’s betrayal.”
“Well...” Sighing, she pushed her half-eaten dinner aside. “Lucky for you, you’re a short-timer in this whole thing. Even though I have no right, part of me is seriously ticked off at you for even thinking of leaving. Don’t get me wrong—I understand you can’t just up and quit the navy, but in the same respect, my mind’s reeling. I know my folks will eventually come around, but in the meantime, I’ve got a sharp learning curve in raising these two on my own.”
“For the next couple weeks, you don’t have to. So how about I help you figure out the hourly logistics of infant care and you help me deal with the touchy-feely side of once and for all getting over your sister.”
Hattie extended her hand for him to shake. “Deal.”
When he pressed his palm to hers, shivery awareness danced through her, striking a humming chord of attraction low in her belly. How long had she wanted more from him than to be only friends? How long would the memory of the next precious two weeks last, knowing once Mason was gone, it might very well be forever?
“You okay?” he asked, still holding her hand.
“Yeah. I’m good.” Her voice cracked with emotion and confusion and wistful longing for what she knew could never be.
“You don’t look good— I mean...” With his free hand, he brushed away tears that lately never seemed to stop. Sure, grief played a role in Hattie’s current emotional roller coaster, but so did unearthing her long-hidden feelings for this man. “You’re pretty as ever, but what do I have to do to help you not look so sad?”
What did he have to do? Everything.
Hold her, kiss her, never leave. But honestly? Not only were the odds of all that occurring about as likely as a palm tree sprouting in the front yard, but she owed it to herself to once and for all forget her lame childhood fantasies of them being together and finally get on with her life.
As for their kiss? She really needed to forget that!
Chapter Eight
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” The next morning, for once, Mason was awake before the girls wailed for room service. In the short time he’d been with them, he’d already seen developmental changes. At nineteen weeks, they were all about exploration, and when he entered their room, Vivian was studying a stuffed frog that shared her crib.
Vanessa was still snoozing.
Sunlight streamed through windows overlooking majestic mountain views.
Vivian caught sight of him and whimpered.
He scooped her into his arms. “Don’t start, munchkin. It was a long night and I don’t need you making this an even longer day.”
Her smile took his breath away.
“Think that’s funny?” Cradling her, he tickled her belly.
As much as he kept telling himself he was immune to the girls’ charms, he feared many more encounters like this may lead to him having his heart broken all over again by this fresh crop of Beaumont girls.
“Hey...” Hattie stood at the room’s threshold, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “I promised myself to be out of bed early enough for you to sleep in.”
He grinned at his drooling charge. “I’m used to early mornings with no sleep.” Talking in a goofy voice to coax Vivian into another smile, he said, “Caring for babies is a cakewalk compared to defusing nukes.”
Hattie sighed. “Wish I had your confidence.”
“You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Wasn’t I just saying that to you?” Cocking her head, she’d unwittingly sent her long hair into a sexy cascade. Her short flannel nightgown hugged her in all the right places, and exposed even more spots he wouldn’t mind exploring. Since when had she stopped being just plain old Hat Trick, and started being sexy?
Laughing, he nodded. “What can I say? The navy taught me to be a fast learner.”
After a halfhearted smile, she eased onto one of the room’s upholstered rockers, drawing her feet up to hug her miles of bare legs. “No need to get cocky, sailor. I know the basics. Diapering, feeding, baths. What scares me is handling those basics, plus my regular full-time job.”
“I thought your mom would be helping?”
“Me, too, but all of the sudden it’s like she’s checked out. I feel like she’s blaming me for Melissa’s will. It’s crazy.”
Mason changed Vivian’s diaper. “What about Alec’s folks?”
“Since they left for Miami, they’re a nonissue.” She took Vanessa from her crib. After kissing the infant’s chubby cheek, she said, “For all the fuss your grandpar
ents made when they heard I’d be caring for you, where are they now?”
“Wanna see your folks this afternoon? Might make it easier if we go together?”
She made a face. “Do we have to?”
“No. Just thought I’d throw it out there.” He approached her with Vivian. “Trade with me and I’ll get Van cleaned up.” The exchange should’ve been no big deal, but for whatever reason, for however briefly, Mason appreciated the brush of Hattie’s warm, smooth forearms against his. Unfortunately, it also left him craving another kiss. “Anything you want to do?”
She’d returned to her chair, only this time holding Vivian upright on her lap. “Let me run something by you.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“At the bar last week, Clementine invited us to a Halloween party.”
“Cool. I love Halloween.”
There she went again with another frown. “Ordinarily I’d agree with you, but we’d need a sitter and—”
“I’m sure Fern and my dad would help out.”
“Okay, well, Clem also brought up Wharf-o-Ween. I always have a huge, kid-friendly booth to represent the bar, and—”
“Wait—” he snorted “—are we talking, like, tequila for toddlers?”
She stuck out her tongue. “I know, it sounds weird, but all of the other wharf businesses participate, so why shouldn’t Hattie’s? And for the record, obviously, no alcohol’s served.”
“I get it, but what’s your question?” He shifted his weight from his left leg to right, but apparently the movement was too sudden for Vanessa’s taste. The baby burst into startled tears. “Hey...” he soothed.
“Never mind. We should probably get these two fed.”
“Can’t we walk and talk?”
In Hattie’s defense, she tried, but once Vivian heard her sister’s wail, she started in. Neither quieted until their mouths were too busy with breakfast to scream.
Once they all shared the sofa, Mason exhaled. “Damn, that was intense. If these two are this demanding as babies, I can’t imagine them as teens.”
He cursed silently as yet again, Hattie’s eyes filled with tears.
“Good times.” She smiled faintly. “Anyway, what I started to ask was if you think it’d be inappropriate for us to take the girls to the festival?”
He took a moment to chew on that one. “You know, if the twins were older, you could let them dictate what they want to do. With them being so little, the decision’s yours.”
“Which lands me right back to the heart of my question. Wharf-o-Ween or quiet night at home?”
“Might just be me,” he said, “but I’d enjoy the crap out of getting away from this house.”
* * *
HATTIE’S SIDES HURT from laughing.
Conifer’s generic equivalent of Walmart—Shamrock’s Emporium—carried a meager, yet fun stock of Halloween masks, costumes and makeup. Mason plopped a giant, green Hulk head on Vivian and surprisingly, far from her being upset about it, she giggled while playing peekaboo, peeping out the mask’s eyeholes.
The girls sat in their stroller and Mason held up Vivian’s little arms, waving them while saying in his best Hulk voice, “Don’t make me angry! You won’t like me when I’m angry!”
“Stop!” Hattie pleaded in a loud whisper when people started to stare. “We’re going to get kicked out of the store.” With a permanent population of just under two thousand, but a seasonal flux that jumped as high as four thousand, Hattie knew a lot of people, but thankfully not everyone.
Vanessa took one look at the back of her sister’s green head and burst into tears.
Hattie’s heart melted when Mason lifted the sniffling baby girl and cradled her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
Vivian kept right on giggling.
Hattie crouched alongside her, making sure to keep the mask from covering her nose or mouth.
“How about a halo for you?” Mason perched a heavenly headband on the still-spooked girl.
“Aw...” Hattie fished through her purse for her phone. “Keep that on her. I’ve got to get a picture.”
Just as her camera app flashed, Sophie Reynolds rounded the corner with a pricing gun in hand. She took one look at the cheery foursome and turned right back around, all but running to escape them.
“Sophie, wait!” Hattie removed Vivian’s mask before chasing after one of the town’s biggest gossips.
“How could you?” Nearly to the checkout, Sophie spun around to face her. “Poor Alec and your sister are barely in their graves, yet this is how you choose to pay your respects?”
From behind her, Mason approached. “Sophie—not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve done a lot of research on infant grief and the best thing we can do for these two is provide constant love and support—and yes, maybe even a little fun.”
Sophie snapped, “What do you know about grief, Mason Brown? It’s no secret why Melissa left you. The poor woman had just lost your child and you—”
“Stop,” he said in a dangerously low tone Hattie had never before heard. He shifted Vanessa, holding her protectively against his chest, cupping his hand to her ear, shielding her from the brunt of their confrontation. “Don’t you dare make excuses for the inexcusable. If my wife needed comfort, she should’ve come to me—not Alec. And thanks for remembering that I know all too well what it’s like—having also lost my mother when I was a kid.”
Sophie stashed her pricing gun under the checkout counter, then dashed to the stock room.
The pimple-faced kid behind the register stared after her.
A muscle ticked in Mason’s clenched jaw.
“I’m so sorry she said those things to you.” Acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, Hattie hugged him from behind. In the moment, he was no longer a tough-guy SEAL, but the little boy she’d once known. He’d been in the fourth grade when his mom died of cancer. Hattie didn’t remember the funeral specifically, but she had sad memories of what happened after. She’d asked him if he wanted to play Matchbox cars. He’d said he couldn’t. All of his best cars were gone.
“Where’d they go?”
“To heaven with my mom.”
Later, when Hattie had asked her mom what that meant, she’d explained that Mason had placed his favorite cars in his mother’s coffin.
Patting him, trying to soothe him as she would her nieces, Hattie swallowed the latest knot in her throat. “I’ve never liked that woman. At Melissa and Alec’s wedding, she pulled me aside to ask if I wanted to borrow her shawl to cover my inappropriate strapless dress.”
“You’re kidding.”
Hattie shook her head, but then smiled. “Right after downing two shots of Johnnie Walker Black, I told her I like being inappropriate.”
Chuckling, he turned and set Vanessa into the stroller before drawing Hattie into a hug. He kissed the top of her head. Held her and held her until she felt they’d connected on another level—an indefinable place that was deeper, and infinitely more meaningful, than just friends.
“Thank you for that,” he said into her hair.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Sure you did. When it felt like this whole damn town sided against me, you were always there. Still are. And now...” He exhaled sharply. “I wish I could be there for you.”
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU think he meant?” Clementine asked when Hattie relayed the incident at Shamrock’s later that night at the bar. “Could that have been his stab at declaring his undying love?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hattie filled two draft-beer orders, delivering them to the regulars at the end of the bar.
“Stranger things have happened,” Clementine pointed out upon Hattie’s return.
“And Bigfoot could kidnap me on m
y way home, but I’m not going to dwell on it. Sorry I said anything.”
Rufus Pendleton, a regular, sat at the far end of the bar and signaled for another beer. “I ever tell you ’bout the time Bigfoot paid a visit to my mine?”
Clementine delivered his order. “Only around ten times, darlin’.” She leaned over the counter to kiss his leathered skin.
He blanched, wiping the spot she’d touched.
Hattie had been so stunned by Sophie’s cruelty—the pall it’d placed over what had previously been a nice day—that she’d needed to talk it over with her friend. But now? She realized she should’ve kept her big mouth shut. What Hattie had viewed as a sweet moment, Molly Matchmaker saw as the launchpad for a smoking-hot affair.
What about that lone, spectacular kiss?
Had that been significant? Hattie kept that informational nugget to herself.
After an exaggerated eye roll, Clementine popped a green olive from the garnish tray into her mouth. A lot of bars rarely—if ever—cleaned their trays, but Hattie found that practice disgusting and washed theirs once per shift. “What’d you decide about my party and Wharf-o-Ween?”
When Clementine helped herself to three cherries, Hattie said, “Didn’t we have an employee meeting about that?”
Her friend feigned wide-eyed innocence. One downside to sanitary trays was the fact that everyone enjoyed snacking from them. “A meeting about what? Our Halloween booth?”
Hattie gave Clementine’s hand a light smack the next time she tried to grab a snack. “Knock it off. And yes, we will be hosting our usual booth, only we’re adding a pic of my sister and her husband. I think it’d be nice to remind people to live in the moment because you never know what could happen.”
* * *
SINCE TREVOR VOLUNTEERED to cover the late shift, Hattie used the free time to stop by her parents’ home. She’d brought a foil-wrapped plate of hot wings for her dad and mozzarella sticks for her mom.
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