by Anya Summers
It dawned on him, then, that the only reason he'd uncovered the truth now was by a trick of fate. "Christ, Roni, were you ever going to tell me?" he accused.
She shook her head and wrapped her arms protectively around her body. "No. I don't think that's a good idea. I won't subject my son to your world."
"I have a right to know him." Hunter kept himself from touching her. If he touched her, he would give her the spanking of her fucking life.
"Don't you dare talk to me about rights! I have raised him all on my own, without your intervention, just fine. I'll not risk him, I won't have you making him promises that you don't intend to keep, and when it no longer is convenient for you, have you up and leave. I won't allow it."
"That's because you never told me about him," he exploded.
"And would it have mattered if I had? Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you would have been there when he fell off his bike and broke his arm two years ago? Or would have been there to help potty train him, or walking across the floor with him nearly round the clock when he was teething? No, you would have been on location somewhere, doing some movie starlet in your trailer."
"Regardless of what went on between us and how it ended, I deserved to know about him. And yes, I think a boy should know his father. Where else will he learn how to become a man?" He was a father. He had a son that he needed to get to know. Neither of his parents had been worth much, but at least Hunter had known who his father was before he passed.
"He has his grandfather. He doesn't need you, we don't need you," Veronica spat back, anger flushing her cheeks rosy, her eyes blazing fire. Even in his fury, he knew she was the most magnificent woman of his acquaintance. One he presently wanted to take over his knee and spank the daylights out of.
"But I can help give him a better life." He needed to be there for his child, give him the things he'd been denied growing up.
"Hunter, please, think of him and not of yourself for one minute. What kind of life will he have if it comes out that you, Hunter Clarke, star of Hollywood, has a son? You know what they will do to him. He won't even be able to go to school without being hounded by people with cameras. Do you really want that for an eight-year-old boy?"
"He can go to private schools and be protected. I could give him a better life, Roni."
"He has a great life already. It may not be fancy, it may not be up to your standards, but at least he knows who his friends are, and he is happy. Please, Hunter, just leave us alone. Go back to your actresses and models. Know that he is happy and healthy and let sleeping dogs lie." Before he could catch her, Veronica slammed out of the DFC, leaving him reeling in the room.
His legs wobbled slightly and he sat on the couch. He had a son. Colin. Love for his child, for an eight-year-old he didn't know expanded in his chest. Hunter loved him. Sight unseen, he already had a bubble of love for a boy he'd never met.
But he would.
And as for his son's mother, he had to cool off and let his fury abate, but there would be a reckoning. Soon.
Chapter Eight
When Hunter finally headed upstairs, he tried convincing Veronica to unlock her bedroom door. After an unsuccessful hour of knocking and virtually pleading with her unsuccessfully, he halted his vigil at her door and headed into his room. She could sulk all she wanted to tonight. He was the wronged party here. She'd intentionally kept the fact that he had a son from him. For that, he didn't think he could ever forgive her. He'd missed nine years of Colin's life.
Instead of moping himself, he pulled out his computer, fired it up, and sent off a flurry of emails. He'd been scheduled to make appearances here and there that he wanted canceled. It was more important that he get to know his son than that he go shake hands at Hollywood parties.
He couldn't get out of attending the Oscars or the Golden Globe Awards. He was presenting at both. But everything else he wanted to get out of, to give him time to know Colin. First he contacted his publicist with the dates and appearances he wanted canceled. Marla Jenkins, god love her, was going to have a fit when she checked her email. Then he did the same with his agent, Ira Lowenstein.
Veronica may not want him to, but Hunter was prepared to fight her if need be for the opportunity to meet and get to know his son. He'd be traveling with her to her hometown, whether as a passenger or not. He was prepared to charter a jet if need be. He rubbed a hand over his chest and glanced at the clock.
Happy New Year, Hunter, it's a boy!
He attempted to sleep that night. He did doze, here and there, but mostly he lay there and wondered about Colin. Would Colin like him? Hell, he didn't know much about kids. And like that, all of a sudden, he was a father. Should he pick up a gift for him? Did Colin know anything about him, or had Veronica lied to everyone? Did Declan know?
That thought stung if it was true. Betrayal seemed rampant these days. Hunter dozed a bit more. A fitful, restless sleep, filled with dreams of what his life would have been like had he chosen to stay in Scotland the way Veronica had begged him to. Memories of the past and present merged into a kaleidoscope of images.
He slept longer than he thought he would—until well past ten. Blurry eyed and fuzzy headed, he ordered breakfast from the kitchen and took a shower to clear his head. While he dressed and waited for his meal, he checked his emails. Sure enough, Marla had already peppered his account with panicked replies. The woman never took a day off. Which was why he'd hired her. He hadn't heard back from Ira, but he believed she was skiing in the Alps for the holidays.
The lovely Sherry delivered his meal.
"There you are, Sir." She afforded him the respect of a Dom.
"Thank you, Sherry. Do you know if Declan is awake yet? I need to speak with him as soon as possible." Hunter needed to know if one of the few people he'd counted on to be honest with him had helped keep one of the biggest lies from him.
"Well, he and Zoey were opening presents in the library last I checked. They don't leave until tomorrow for the big honeymoon. If he's not in the library, I would try his office on the third floor."
"Thanks. Is Veronica with them?"
"No, she left the manor early this morning."
So she had run. He'd chase her. But only so he could meet his son. And he wanted more of an explanation from her as to why she'd kept him in the dark all these years.
"I see. Thanks for the info. I appreciate it."
"Not a problem. I'll leave you to your breakfast."
After Hunter had finished his meal, he went searching for Declan. They were just finishing up opening gifts in the library.
"Something I can do for you, Hunter?" Declan studied him.
"Yes, we need to talk. Can we use your office?"
"Do you mind, lass?"
"No, you go on. Ophelia and I will have Tobias and Jared cart the heavier items."
Declan gave Zoey a rather heated kiss. "I love you. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Zoey had the look of a woman thoroughly satisfied. "I love you too. Hunter." She acknowledged him with a slight nod.
"I'll get him back to you quickly, I promise."
"See that you do."
Hunter waited until he and Declan were in Declan's office.
"I need to know what Veronica's address is, and you're going to give it to me." Hunter knew the name of the town, but for all he knew, she'd moved into her own place. And her parents had never been that keen on him; he was certain that if he showed up on their doorstep or at her father's pub, the man would toss him out on his ass.
Declan sat behind his desk, with a contemplative façade marring his features. "Why? You do realize she's my cousin. Is there something going on between the two of you I need to be concerned about? She's the only blood family I have; I'll not have her harmed on my watch."
Hunter understood the defensive stance but he was past playing nice and blurted out, "Because Colin is my son, and I'd like to finally meet him."
"Get the fuck out!"
"She never t
old you. That's something, at least." At Declan's astonished look, some of the rage of betrayal settled in Hunter's soul.
Declan leveled him with a glare. "No. She never said who the father was and I never pushed for it, but how? When?"
"It was when I was here filming on location for Robert the Bruce. We met at her father's pub and had a summer fling." It was as close to the truth as he could get without divulging his misdeeds.
"And she never once contacted you about the boy?" Declan, for all his worldliness, believed at his core, in the good of people. He believed in truth and honor, when most of the rest of the world no longer did.
"No." And that was the crux of all his disquiet. Colin would be nine in three months, and Hunter didn't even know him.
"Christ, first Delilah—don't ask—and now this mess. Why didn't Veronica give you the address herself?"
"She doesn't think it's a good idea that Colin and I meet. She doesn't want the press shadowing his every movement."
"I hate to say this, my friend, but she has a valid point. You can't deny that."
Rage clamored up his throat and he stood, barking at Declan. "I need to know him, D. I've already been denied the first nine years of his life because she didn't see fit to tell me. Regardless of whether her point is valid, he's my son. I need to know him, and I won't miss the next nine years of his life just because it doesn't fit into an acceptable box for the boy's mother. Christ, I don't even know what my son looks like!"
"Easy, Hunter. I'm not saying what Veronica did was right, only that what's done is done. All you can do now is decide the best route moving forward. As for what your kid looks like, I think I can help you with that."
Declan rifled through his desk drawer until he found what he was looking for. "Ah, here it is. Roni sends me his school photo each year. Colin's a bright boy; funny, and very much an old soul."
Declan handed him the photo and the love gurgling inside Hunter's chest burst forth. God, he was beautiful. Missing his two bottom teeth. Seeing his mischievous grin was like staring into his own. Oh, the boy had some of Roni's features. His eyes were hers, but the rest were all Hunter. It was like he was looking at himself as a child. Love for him, for his son, blasted his system.
"Here's her address. Consider it a holiday gift. Can I ask you one thing?" Declan said.
"What?"
"Be careful. Don't let your ego and hurt pride get in the way. It's not just about you and your needs anymore… think of Colin and of Veronica. I know my cousin well; she wouldn't do something like this out of spite. So keep that in mind."
"I can promise you that when it comes to Colin, I will be the soul of discretion. As for Roni, the jury is still out on that," Hunter said.
"Fair enough. Be kind. I already had to put out fires with my wife where you're concerned, please don't make me have to do the same with the very little bit of family I have."
"I will. Thank you. And congrats, D. I really am happy for you and Zoey. She really is wonderful. I'll be packing up and heading out. Have a great honeymoon."
Declan nodded with a smile hovering on his lips, then stood, giving him a bro hug. "Thanks. Go meet your son."
Hunter gave Declan a salute and went to his bedroom. It was time he met his child.
By mid-afternoon, he'd left the manor and had booked a chartered flight to Campbeltown. He might even make it there before Veronica. If she thought he would just slink off at her rebuttal, she was in for the surprise of her life.
Chapter Nine
Veronica breathed a sigh of relief as her silver Mini Cooper puttered over the last hill into Campbeltown. She really did love it here. The land seemed separated from the rest of the world, off the beaten path. They had a three whisky distilleries in the area. It was one of the reasons why she could down a shot of the finest single malt Scotland had to offer and barely bat an eyelash. Tourists would flock to their sleepy little town every summer just to try a dram. But for the most part, it was a small town, where life moved at a slower pace.
Since it was midday, her parents would be at the pub located along one of the main fairways. Across the road was the shoreline of the Kintyre Peninsula. She drove into the main area of town and found a nearby parking space.
She whispered a silent prayer that she could get in and out of the pub without any hassles.
Veronica's need to see Colin had escalated on the drive. As much as she wanted nothing more than to forget that this weekend had ever happened, she wasn't likely to do so. Hunter knew he was a father, knew in no uncertain terms that Colin was his son. How was Veronica supposed to feel comfortable about that? What if it got out who Colin's father was, and the press caught wind of it? Was she ready to fend them off? Hunter had been adamant in his desire to meet Colin. Should she allow it? He was his father. Was she being selfish in wanting to keep Hunter from her son?
Maybe a little.
Although, the majority of her decision rested on the fact that she didn't trust Hunter. Oh, she didn't think he'd be mean to Colin, or physically hurt him. She was more concerned about the potential emotional destruction he could cause. At least before Hunter had been aware, she could protect Colin from the disappointment and potential heartbreak associated with his father. Veronica knew all too well what believing in Hunter could do to a person. Now it was anyone's guess as to what would happen.
Would Hunter attempt to meet Colin? A perverse part of her wanted Hunter to come blazing in and leave a trail of tears in his wake, so that she could prove she'd been justified in her fears all these years. It would absolve her of the guilt about not contacting him and informing him of Colin's existence. Another part wished he would forget about her, forget about Colin, and go about his business as though nothing major had occurred. And the last little sliver of her hoped for a third option that was no more than a fairytale. She shoved that last option aside. Hunter was not a man a woman could hold on to, not for long, anyhow.
Now that Hunter knew, should she tell Colin? That was a question she had no answer to. If she told Colin, she knew without a doubt that the boy would want to meet Hunter. Shite! She didn't even have Hunter's contact information. She could acquire it, if pressed, but she preferred not to involve the DFC in her affairs. And, more importantly, her cousin—as much as she loved Declan, she didn't want him enmeshed in her drama.
Veronica strode into the McGinnis pub, past the red brick façade of the building. The outside front of the restaurant itself was all black wood, fashioned with golden trim and glass windows. Above the front entrance, in big, bold, gold lettering, was proclaimed 'McGinnis Pub' for all and sundry. Inside, the homey, dark mocha wooden flooring blended with the wood paneling along the walls.
It was midday on a holiday and the restaurant was packed, barely a seat could be found amongst the sea of dark wooden tables and chairs. Her Ma was behind the long wooden bar, serving up drinks with nary a barstool unoccupied. Tessa, her good friend from school and one of the waitresses, carried a loaded tray, stocked to the brim with some of her father's best meals. The busboy, Jon, a local secondary school kid, cleared tables with his tray.
And then Veronica spied her little man, his copper hair spiked up in places, an apron about his waist, with a notepad, taking orders from a table filled with a local family. She made a beeline toward him. The moment he spotted her in the crowded restaurant, his beautiful face lit up. The face that was so much like his father's it made her ache.
"Mama," he cried, and forgot everything as he raced into her open arms.
This was what mattered most. He barreled into her arms and she pulled him close. Love for him awed her. It always did. She'd never known she could love someone so much.
"Hi, baby. I missed you so much." She gently squeezed him, adoring the way his arms squeezed her about the neck and held tight. She sniffled a little as he clung to her.
"I'm so glad you're home," he said.
"Have you had lunch?"
She spotted her mum in her usual wool sweater and jeans, with
the ever-present black apron around her tiny waist. Her copper hair had more silver threads these days, scraped back into a bun. She had the strength of an ox, hefting cases of alcohol and beer, along with anything else the pub might need. "Hey, Ma. Thanks for watching Colin. Mind if I take him off your hands and head home?"
"Go on with you both, Tessa and I will get the orders. If you wait, I can make up a plate for you both to take home."
Her mum was the best. Always making sure she and Colin were cared for. "That would be grand, Ma. Thanks! Colin, go and collect your bag from the back, and we'll go home as soon as we have lunch."
"Hooray. Let me get Opa this order first."
"You do that."
Colin sprinted off and finished taking the order, taking it to the kitchen for her Da. He was such a good kid. Half the time, she wondered if she deserved him. He was just so good. Colin returned with his backpack. Her Da followed close behind, sporting his plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his black chef's apron with a few stains and spatters on it. His hair was completely white, with a balding patch on the crown of his head.
"Hi, Da."
All six feet of him glared at her with his hands on his hips. "Don't you 'hi Da' me. Can't you wait to take him home until after the lunch rush? Since you haven't been here, we've needed him to wait tables in your absence."
Just the way she had done as a child, and still did at least four nights a week. "Da, it's been a long weekend. I'm exhausted. I just drove quite a few hours to get back here. In fact, I cut my visit at cousin Declan's wedding short. I'm taking my son home now."
"I find it hard to believe that you always expect us to watch Colin for you, but when it comes time to help your family out, you hightail it off to do this or that." Her Da snorted with exasperation.
Veronica had had enough with the theatrics for one weekend. No longer caring how self-centered it sounded, she replied, "Enough, Da. Asking you to watch Colin once a year or so while I attend a family member's wedding is not a lot to ask. I was there representing the lot of us. I'm here almost every night waiting tables. Now, I'm exhausted after the whirlwind of the wedding and the drive back. I'm taking my son home, and will be back here tomorrow night for the dinner rush."