Just one kiss (The Ashcrofts Book 1)

by Anderson, Poppy J.

  Speak of the devil, he thought with a grin, for Audrey had stuck her head in just then, giving him a crooked smile.

  “Hey, you. What are you doing in here?” He put the photo back on his desk and patted his knee.

  That was all the invitation his daughter needed. She came running and climbed deftly into his lap, nestling against his chest. “There are so many people downstairs,” she breathed, overwhelmed.

  Patrick stroked her hair and nodded. “Grandma organized a really big party. There’ll be a lot of guests.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “I don’t even know most of those people.” She sounded perplexed.

  “Nor do I, love, nor do I,” he said with a dry laugh.

  She sighed heavily. “Mommy and Grandma are in the kitchen, but they said I couldn’t come in. Even though it’s my birthday!”

  He knew there was a huge cake in the kitchen, so he tried to distract her. “Are you excited about such a big party just for you?”

  “I’m excited about the magician!”

  With a groan, he remembered his mother had indeed hired a magician—after he’d convinced her at the last moment that a bouncy castle would be too much. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, he planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Have I told you how pretty you look today?”

  “Yes, twice,” she giggled and reached for the framed photograph on the desk. After studying it for a moment, she tilted her head back and looked at him with curiosity. “Is that you, Daddy?”

  He nodded. “Yep, that’s me.”

  Her small brow was furrowed. “But Mommy’s standing next to you!”

  He almost laughed at the surprise in her voice. “That’s right. It’s Mommy and me.”

  Audrey uttered an appreciative sigh. “Mommy’s dress is so beautiful.”

  “Oh, yes, it was.” He licked his lips. “Your Mommy always looked beautiful, Audrey,” he confessed. “No matter what she was wearing. And she still does.”

  “It’s a pretty picture.”

  A warm feeling spread through him. “It was taken at our wedding, you know. The day Mommy married me.”

  Audrey seemed to hesitate, but then she whispered, as if she were telling a secret, “You kissed Mommy!”

  Patrick chuckled at the unexpected declaration and nudged her nose with his. “I kissed your mommy quite often, Audrey. I couldn’t get enough of kissing her.”

  She looked up from the photo and into his face, visibly puzzled. “Why don’t you kiss her anymore?”

  He didn’t have an answer to that, and he was still pondering the question when the first guests arrived, and his mother informed him his wife was suddenly nowhere to be found.

  He suspected she was hiding somewhere, overwhelmed with the prospect of coming face to face with people who might not be kind to her. Intuitively, he went to the sunroom, where he found her sitting on a wicker sofa, legs drawn up and arms wrapped around her knees. The insecure look in her eyes made every last icicle in his heart melt.

  “Hey,” he said softly, stepping toward her.

  She scooted over and made space for him on the sofa. “Hey.”

  He sat down next to her and put an arm around her slender back. “Is everything alright?”

  “I just needed a short break,” she confessed in a whisper, resting her head on her knees. In her powder-blue summer dress, which afforded him a great view of her long legs, she looked like a young girl.

  Like an unhappy young girl.

  “A lot of people milling around out there, huh?”

  “Mm-hm,” she murmured.

  Patrick leaned back, relishing the peace in the quiet sunroom, which had been her refuge all those years ago, and studied the soft nape of her neck. “You should start painting again.”

  “What?” she murmured softly.

  Heck, he didn’t know where that had come from, either. But it was true.

  “You should take up painting again,” he repeated, putting a hand on her back. His gentle touch didn’t just surprise him it seemed, but her as well, for he felt her shiver beneath his palm. “I know how much your heart was in it, and how happy it made you. Audrey is six now. She doesn’t need her mom 24/7 anymore.”

  Amy didn’t reply for a long time. He thought maybe she wasn’t going to. But then she whispered, “I’ve lost it.”

  “Lost what?”

  Her shrug was meant to look casual, but Patrick saw that there was much more to it. “Painting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She bit her lip. “I’ve tried,” she confessed. “But I can’t do it anymore. It just doesn’t come. When I pick up a brush, my head is empty. There’s nothing there.”

  “Since when?”

  She raised her head slowly. “Ever since I left, Patrick.” She swallowed. “Ever since then …” She left her sentence hanging.

  “Amy,” he whispered, his confusion evident as he watched her eyes turn glassy and her nose redden.

  “I loved you so much,” she murmured.

  His voice was just as quiet when he asked, “Then why did you leave me?”

  “Because I-I didn’t want you to be unhappy because of me,” she answered, her voice shaky. “I thought you saw our marriage as a mistake. I thought you regretted it.”

  “Never,” he protested. “I never once thought that!”

  She sniffled. “But you spent so much time away from home. You were always working and fobbing me off on other people. And then … there were the rumors.”

  Patrick’s heart beat faster. “What rumors, Amy?”

  He watched her wipe away a tear and wanted to pull her close and never let go.

  “Everybody thought you were a total idiot for marrying me after just three weeks,” she said, “and not getting a prenup. And then Peter told me an important deal fell through because you’d spent three weeks abroad. With me. And that you were in trouble with the board of directors …”

  Patrick could only croak, “What?”

  “Don’t you understand?” she asked desperately. “I was scared your business partners wouldn’t take you seriously anymore, not with a woman like me at your side. I was afraid you and your company would suffer.”

  Patrick still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she was saying. “Amy, don’t you dare tell me that’s all it was ever about!”

  “Not completely. I always felt absolutely inadequate among your friends and acquaintances,” she confessed sheepishly. “They all looked at me like I was an absolute nobody. No, worse than that—like I was a scheming person just crafty enough to get you to marry me. Whenever they saw us together, I could tell they were wondering why you’d married such a hick. A calculating hick. Why do you think I never wanted to touch a single cent of your money, Patrick?”

  “Amy …” He hoped his voice sounded comforting. To make sure, he gave her a meaningful look. “If anyone thinks like that, or ever did, they’re not my friends.”

  “And your siblings?” she asked unhappily.

  Patrick swallowed. He didn’t want to abuse his sister’s trust, but he had to make Amy see the truth. “Barbara has been going through a lot these past two years. That’s all.”

  “Her divorce?” Amy asked.

  “Not just that …” He took a deep breath. “She’s still incredibly hurt and unhappy from her marriage. But I know she liked you a lot in the very beginning. Unfortunately, she’s too frustrated to be objective right now. But she will come around sooner or later, I know it.”

  Amy’s blue eyes searched his face. “And Stuart?”

  “Stuart.” Patrick snorted and brushed a stray curl away from Amy’s neck. “He’ll come around, too. I know that because he used to be your biggest champion.”

  “My biggest champion?” she repeated weakly.

  “Yes, to be honest, I think he was a little infatuated with you at twenty-two. You should have heard him bragging about you and your artwork to his pals whenever you weren’t around. It actua
lly made me a little jealous.”

  “Oh.”

  Patrick twisted his lips into a smirk. “Stuart’s only miffed now because he had to witness my suffering firsthand. Particularly when I was living like a drunkard. He’ll get off his high horse eventually.”

  “I don’t want to imagine how awful you must have felt,” she whispered, her voice choked. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

  Patrick closed his eyes for a moment, cherishing the connection. Instead of replying to that, he murmured, “Come outside with me.”

  “Patrick—”

  He interrupted her sigh with a firm shake of his head. “You belong here. Nobody else belongs here more than you.”

  Amy didn’t seem to know what to say to that. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, before nodding and putting a hand on top of his. “Wait, I … I have something for you here.”

  Curious, he watched her pull a small, white envelope from the pocket of her dress. She handed it to him.

  As he opened it, she murmured shyly, “I asked my neighbor to send it to me. I’m sorry I’m six years late, but … I-I thought maybe you’d still like to see it.”

  He pulled from the envelope a photo of a newborn baby with a wrinkled face and a tiny woolen cap on the little head. He felt strange. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and he felt a laugh bubbling up inside him.

  “Audrey Ashcroft,” he croaked with a shake of his head. “Where did you come up with that name?”

  She joined in his laughter. “Must have been the painkillers.”

  “No way.” Patrick pulled her close. “Amy and Audrey Ashcroft. I couldn’t be any luckier.”

  ***

  “Mind if I have a seat for a minute?” Stuart asked.

  Amy tilted her head back and blinked against the sun, which was directly behind Stuart, giving him an ironic halo. She was pretty sure Stuart was the farthest thing from a saint. With his blond hair and boyish dimples, he was too much of an expert in flirting, a skill Amy had witnessed at least a dozen times just today. Apparently Eleanore had raised at least one womanizer, which was probably why he’d moved out of his family’s lofty mansion and into a modern loft in the city. Amy could imagine all too well how Stuart painted the town red every night.

  “Of course,” Amy replied in the same hollow voice he’d used.

  “Right.” He sat down in the chair his brother had occupied a few minutes earlier.

  Amy had been sitting alone at a table in the garden, watching Patrick, who was holding Audrey by both hands, her feet on top of his, as they danced around the makeshift dance floor in the yard. Judging by the giggling, the two of them seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly. And the sight of them made up for all the nosy glances Amy had been fielding the whole day. She’d decided to just ignore them and hope Audrey didn’t notice.

  Stuart followed her gaze to the dance floor. “She really is cute,” he declared a bit reluctantly.

  Amy appreciated compliments about her kid, but his reluctance amused her. “Thank you,” she said. “As anyone with eyes can see, most of the praise should go to your brother.”

  “Mm,” Stuart mumbled. “She does look a lot like him, but she has your nose. And your smile.”

  She hardly knew what to think. Even if Stuart’s voice hadn’t been the warmest, the meaning behind his words was unmistakable. She gave him a grateful look, but he was still watching his brother’s antics. “Thank you, Stuart.”

  He nodded in the direction of the dance floor. “He looks happy. And really … like himself again. Frankly, he’s been insufferable the last few years.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained silent. When Stuart turned his head to look at her, his eyes weren’t hostile, just very sober.

  “Don’t hurt him, okay? Not again.”

  Amy swallowed. “I won’t. It’s the last thing I’d do.”

  Her brother-in-law furrowed his brow. “I don’t want to see him that miserable ever again, Amy. He doesn’t deserve that.”

  “I know,” she whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want to see him unhappy either, Stuart.”

  A tiny smile brightened his face. “I never wanted to speak to you again, you know. But after my brother dislocated my jaw for me, and since he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat today, I seem to have no choice.”

  Patrick had dislocated his brother’s jaw? Amy looked at Stuart, her stomach lurching at the thought, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he gestured at his sister. “Now that Barbara has her new boyfriend, I think she’ll soften again sooner or later.”

  Amy studied him with a half smile. “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  His dimples deepened with the grin he threw her, proving he was still the rascal she’d met more than six years ago. “Just one?”

  He left her a short while after that, and Amy caught Audrey’s eye as she waved her over to the dance floor. Amy rose and sauntered over to them. “Are you having fun dancing with Daddy?”

  “Yeah,” Audrey said, stepping off her father’s feet, “but now you gotta dance with Daddy.”

  When she took Amy’s hand and tugged her toward Patrick, who pulled her close without hesitation, Amy had to smile at her daughter’s determination. Audrey turned and ran to the large table weighed down with cakes and cookies. Amy chuckled, happy that Audrey felt so at home where she was. Kind of like she did, suddenly back in her husband’s arms.

  Apparently, Patrick was thinking similar thoughts. Swaying with her to the music, he said, “She’s cheeky, isn’t she? Look at her moving among everybody like she’s known them forever.”

  “Her confidence is out of control,” Amy agreed with a wink. “She takes after her dad.”

  “Hey,” he protested. “The Ashcrofts are just a bit assertive.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” she murmured. He hugged her close to his chest, and she realized there was nothing in the world that had ever felt better. She didn’t even care that more than two dozen pairs of eyes were watching with curiosity she and Patrick slow-danced and privately joked, their voices kept low. She felt safe and comfortable in his embrace, and there was no room in her heart for resentment or nervousness now.

  His left arm was wrapped around her back, his hand resting low on her hip, and his other hand held hers, pressing it against his chest intimately. Her entire body was pressed against his, and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

  “She’s really enjoying herself, right?”

  “So much,” Amy confirmed, feeling his chest rise with each breath he took. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her this excited.”

  “Are you enjoying yourself, too, or are you uncomfortable? Has anyone said anything stupid?”

  She dispelled his concern with a smile. “Audrey’s celebrating her birthday, Patrick. After everything that’s happened …” For a brief moment, she couldn’t go on, but then she continued in a choked voice, “I’m so grateful and happy she’s here with us. Excited, cheeky, and very much alive.”

  He lowered his head. “I’m happy she’s here, too,” he said close to her ear. “And I’m happy you’re here with me.”

  Amy bit her lip and leaned her head against his chest.

  After a few more notes of the music, he cleared his throat. “Do you know this is the first time we’ve danced?”

  Amy tilted her head back. “But I seem to remember a club in Rome,” she corrected him, “and a concert.”

  He burst out laughing. “I won’t forget that night for the rest of my life, my little boozehound.”

  She gasped in mock outrage. “What did you just call me?”

  “My little boozehound,” he repeated candidly. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember that.”

  “I remember everything,” she chided him, her heart hammering in her chest, her entire body covered in goosebumps.

  “Then you ought to know we’ve never slow-danced before.”

  Amy couldn’t help herself.
She chuckled and shook her head. “Help! It turns out Patrick Ashcroft really is a romantic after all!”

  “We should have done it a lot sooner, don’t you think?”

  “What?” she asked breathlessly, staring into his green eyes. “Dance?”

  His voice was dark and sweet as honey as he murmured, “That, too.”

  Chapter 14

  “Read me a story, Daddy,” the happy birthday girl pleaded as Patrick carried her to her bed.

  Amy pulled back the covers and watched him lay Audrey on the mattress with careful hands. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and handed her a stuffed animal before tucking her in.

  “Your eyes are already closing on their own, honey,” he said with a smirk, just as Audrey yawned loudly.

  “I see it, too,” Amy chimed in, leaning over her sleepy daughter from the other side of the bed. “Plus, Daddy’s been dancing with you all day. I think he deserves a rest.”

  “Okay,” Audrey sighed. She pursed her lips. “Can I have cake for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “You barely left anything for tomorrow,” Amy reminded her gently, stroking her daughter’s baby-soft cheek.

  “But I’m six years old now,” Audrey argued, blinking to keep her tiredness at bay for another minute. “That means I’ll need more cake.”

  “Oh, yes,” Patrick agreed with a chuckle. “But even big girls of six need to go to sleep at some point.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “One more kiss, Daddy,” Audrey demanded, holding up her face.

  Amy watched father and daughter with an indulgent smile, until Audrey demanded a kiss from her, too. “Gimme a kiss, Mommy.”

  “Okay,” Amy murmured and leaned down to kiss her daughter on the mouth.

  “And now you two have to kiss,” Audrey said sleepily. “Just like the photograph.”

  Blushing, Amy raised her eyebrows and looked to Patrick. “What photo is she talking about?”

  He laughed, showing two rows of bright white teeth. “Our wedding picture. She got hold of it today when I was looking at it.”