by Mari Carr
Wild Spirit
Mari Carr
Contents
Wild Spirit
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
About the Author
Wild Spirit
Maybe if things were different, Leo could date the woman he’s suddenly longing for, the free-spirited Yvonne Collins. For her, life is an adventure; for him, life is all about work and keeping things simple so he can focus on his son.
* * *
When a tragic event upends Leo’s orderly existence, he’s forced to admit he can’t do it all, and he can’t do it alone. Yvonne feels like exactly what Leo doesn’t need, until she shows him chaos isn’t always bad, and letting go isn’t the same thing as losing control.
Prologue
“Well now, lass. What are you doing up here by yourself?” Patrick Collins had watched his granddaughter Yvonne break away from her parents, Ewan and Natalie, who were eating dinner down at the pub and escape to his old apartment above. He followed her, concerned.
“Nothing.”
He had to hand it to her. At fourteen years old, she had perfected the teenage sulk. Her tone of voice and expression made it perfectly clear that she was stewing over something.
Patrick sat down next to her on the couch. “You wouldn’t lie to your old Pop Pop now, would you? Come on, my dearest heart, what’s got you feeling so low?”
Yvonne sighed loudly, dramatically, and Patrick fought to hide his amusement as she said, “Next weekend is the Homecoming dance at school.”
Ah. He hadn’t expected to get his answer so quickly. Typically, Yvonne liked to draw out her theatrics. “And am I to assume no one has asked you?”
Yvonne shot him an impatient look that told him he’d missed by a mile. “I’ve been asked. By three boys.”
“I see. So your problem lies in that you have too many options and you’re struggling to decide who to go with. That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.”
Yvonne shook her head, exasperated. Patrick loved his grandchildren—adored them actually—but he’d always found it much easier to talk to them when they were younger. The moment each of them hit twelve and hormones kicked in, he found himself adrift.
His late wife, Sunday, had always been much better with their children as they’d advanced from youngsters to tweens. After she passed, it was the older siblings who helped him navigate the tricky waters with their younger brothers and sisters.
No doubt Sunday would have been able to deduce whatever was upsetting Yvonne by now.
He, on the other hand, was completely lost. “I give up,” he said, prompting the briefest grin from the young girl.
“Leo Watson didn’t ask me.”
Patrick considered that. “Leo? Isn’t he the young man who just recently started attending your school, whose father delivers vegetables to Sunday’s Side each week? And he’s been here a time or two hanging out with Lochlan and Colm, yes?”
Leo’s parents had homeschooled him until this year, along with his older brother and sister.
She nodded, clearly pleased he’d recalled who Leo was. “He’s the hottest boy in the whole sophomore class. And the coolest. And the funniest. And—”
“I think I get the picture. So you were hoping Leo would ask you?”
“Yeah. But he doesn’t even know I exist. He invited Denise Flynn instead.” Yvonne rolled her eyes as if the mere thought of that was too preposterous to believe.
“Who is Denise Flynn?” he asked.
“She’s a cheerleader, and she thinks her shi—” Yvonne stopped mid-curse when Patrick narrowed his eyes. His young granddaughter shared Riley’s love of cooking, spending countless hours in the kitchen of the pub with her aunt. Along the way, she’d picked up more from Riley than a knack for whipping up delicious meals.
“Language,” he murmured, something he’d said to Riley pretty much ever since the girl learned to talk. Not that his daughter had ever managed to curb her tendency to cuss like a sailor.
“Sorry. Denise thinks her poop doesn’t stink.”
Patrick resisted the urge to chuckle. The expression admittedly lacked something with the cleaner translation.
“I see,” he said.
“She’s super popular and nowhere near nice enough for Leo. I don’t know what he sees in her when there are lots of other girls in the school who would be better for him to date. Girls who see how cool he is. Denise just said yes so she could rub it in everyone else’s faces. Not because she likes him.”
It appeared this young Leo still possessed that new-car smell and was benefiting from being the mysterious—and therefore, instantly fascinating—boy in a school where most of the students had known each other since kindergarten.
“And you thought Leo would ask you?”
Yvonne didn’t reply immediately. An answer in itself.
“So no?”
She grimaced. “I just don’t understand what he sees in her. What’s wrong with me, Pop Pop?”
The tears welling in her eyes were his undoing. “Ah, lass. Now don’t go feeling bad about yourself. His asking this other girl could be based on a thousand different reasons.”
“Like what?” she asked, not bothering to stem the tears streaming down her freckled cheeks.
Patrick reached over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He was a strong man and there was very little he couldn’t handle. The exception to that rule, his undoing, was and always would be his grandchildren’s tears.
“Well,” he said, trying to come up with any reason why a fifteen-year-old boy might overlook a lovely lass such as Yvonne. “Maybe he only likes girls in his own grade. You’re a year younger than the boy.”
“So?”
So…that didn’t work. “Maybe he’s abiding by that—what do they call it—bro code?”
Yvonne’s eyebrows shot up, and this time her smile wasn’t brief or small. She laughed loudly. “Bro code, Pop Pop?”
“Leo has become good friends with your cousins, hanging out with Lochlan, Colm and Padraig quite a bit. Do you think perhaps he isn’t asking you to the dance out of respect for their friendship?”
She seemed to consider that for a few minutes, then dismissed it. “No. It’s not that. Paddy, Lochlan and Colm don’t know I like him, so I’m sure they never warned him to stay away. And if they did know, I’d kick their ass—”
Patrick cleared his throat.
“Butts,” she quickly amended, “if they warned him away.”
Patrick tried to come up with another reason that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. In truth, he couldn’t imagine why any boy wouldn’t want to take his pretty granddaughter to a dance. Yvonne was lovely and sweet with a bubbly personality. Of course, she did mention the other girl was a cheerleader, and as long as there were girls in short skirts shaking pom-poms, there would be an abundance of young boys hovering nearby, drooling.
Finally, he sighed. “Can I just say that fifteen-year-old boys aren’t known for being very bright? I have no idea why he invited Denise to the dance over you, other than Leo is an outright fool.”
Yvonne laughed and hugged him. “Oh, Pop Pop. I love you. And I think you’re absolutely right. He is an idiot.”
He thought for a moment that solved the problem, but she sobered up too quickly. “I just…it hurts. I really like him.”
“I know, lass. There’s nothing worse than love’s cruel sting. You know, your gr
andma Sunday chose to go to a dance with another fella over me once when we’d just started courting. And it hurt me more than I can say.”
“Grandma Sunday turned you down for a date?”
Yvonne’s shocked tone amused him. While he and his beloved Sunday had had an idyllic life together, it was hard for their offspring—their children and now grandchildren—to ever conceive of a time when they weren’t a couple, but were instead two young people with more pride than sense and no idea how to express their feelings.
“She did. She accepted an invitation from Conall Brannagh.”
Yvonne crinkled her nose. “That’s a silly name. Who was he?”
“A rich, handsome man who had a very high opinion of himself and who strutted around Killarney like he was God’s gift to this planet.”
“Sounds like Denise,” Yvonne muttered. “So what happened with Conall?”
Patrick tried to decide how to proceed. He didn’t want his confident granddaughter to feel as though she couldn’t succeed in whatever she tried, that she couldn’t get anything she set her mind to, but these teenage years were tricky. High school was the time to learn the hard lessons because the truth was, life wasn’t always fair.
Did he encourage her to go for it, to tell this young Leo how she felt, or did he suggest that she take the safer course, the one that would save her heartache?
He sighed. These were the times when he wished Sunday was still alive. She would know the right answer, would know how to counsel their heartbroken young girl.
“Are you and Leo friends?” he asked, deciding perhaps his advice would come more easily with background information.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “We hang out a lot at school. We sit at the same lunch table in the cafeteria. Him, me, Lochlan and a bunch of our other friends. We have a lot of fun.”
Patrick nodded slowly. “And has he ever given you any indication that he likes you as something more than just a friend?”
Yvonne took more time answering this question. When she did, he knew she was offering him the truth. “No. He treats me like he does Lochlan. Like a buddy. Another one of the guys.”
He was quiet for a moment, then he captured her gaze. “Let me ask you this, Vonnie,” he said, adopting the nickname her parents used for her. “What do you think is more valuable in life—friendship or love?”
She frowned, thinking hard. “They’re both important.”
He nodded and reached for her hand. “Exactly. There is happiness to be found in both. Love is important, don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the most amazing things in life. But…friendship is just as powerful. You’re young, my dear. The truth is, most of us don’t find love until we’re older than you are now. Because you’re still growing, figuring out who you are and what you’re meant to do and be in this life. This is the time to make friends, to cultivate them, to put all your energy in them. Through friendship, we learn how to interact, how to cherish someone, how to care.”
“You’re only fourteen, and while you may think that means you’re an adult, take it from this old man who has lived a thousand lifetimes, you are but a wee kitten. Spend your high school years learning how to be a friend. Once you’ve accomplished that, love will come easy at a time when you’re ready to embrace it.”
Yvonne leaned back against the couch, her shoulders slumping. From the pensive look on her face, he knew his words had struck a chord, that she had truly listened.
“Okay,” she said at last.
“That’s my graceful girl, my gift.”
Yvonne snorted. “Pop Pop, you’ve been saying that since I was born. I’m not very graceful. I’m kind of a klutz.”
“That’s not what those nicknames are referring to. Your name, Yvonne, means God’s grace, God’s gift, and that is exactly what you are. You were a gift to your parents, to this family, to me.”
“I was named after my mom’s sister, not because of what the name means.”
Patrick grinned. “You were named after the sister your mother loved and adored above all others. The fact she gave you that name should show you exactly how much you mean to her, how much you are loved.”
“I know Mom loved my aunt Yvonne. I’ve seen pictures and heard all the stories about her.”
Yvonne’s mother, Natalie, had married Patrick’s son, Ewan. Patrick knew their road to happiness had been difficult because Natalie struggled with depression. A depression that had been brought on by the untimely death of her sister, Yvonne, due to a car crash when she’d only been twenty-three years old. Patrick had often felt a kinship with Natalie, the two of them engaging in quite a few conversations over the years about mourning the loss of someone close to them.
Sunday had also died young, only in her fifties when cancer claimed her. Patrick felt as though a lifetime had passed since then, his life divided in half. He’d had the Sunday years and then the years since her death.
“There is no greater tribute, no greater testament to love, than to give someone who is your everything such a meaningful name,” he said. “You are a gift, Yvonne. Never forget that. If Leo isn’t meant to be your love, then accept his friendship, cultivate it, and hold on to it tight. If he’s as special as you say, then I suspect the two of you will be there for each other long after high school ends.”
Yvonne frowned, swiping at her wet cheeks, though the tears had stopped falling. “I guess so.”
She didn’t sound convinced, so he made another effort.
“Let me ask you this,” Patrick said. “Are you so hurt by Leo asking this Denise out that you would rather cut him out of your life? Switch tables at lunch, stop talking to him altogether.”
Yvonne’s horrified look answered his question. “No. Of course not.”
“Then there’s your answer. You can have him in your life as a friend or not at all. If this romance, this love you long for appears la—”
“There you two are.”
Patrick looked up at the sound of Ewan’s voice. His son and Natalie appeared at the top of the stairs.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, Vonnie,” Natalie said. “What’s going on?”
Yvonne sprang up from the couch, looking much happier than she had when he’d come up. He thought it looked a bit forced. Apparently, she didn’t want her parents to know she was hurting. “Nothing. Pop Pop and I were just talking. I have a bunch of homework to do. Are we going home now?”
Natalie nodded and followed Yvonne down the stairs. Ewan gave him a quizzical glance, but Patrick merely smiled, feeling pleased that he’d been able to ease the young girl’s mind and that she’d chosen him to confide in.
Maybe he wasn’t as bad at talking to teenage girls as he feared.
Ewan shrugged when Patrick said nothing. “See you tomorrow, Pop.” Then he walked downstairs, following his daughter and wife.
Patrick slipped back down on the couch, reaching for the picture frame that sat on the end table. He ran one finger over his beloved Sunday’s face, speaking to her as he so often did. “Not so bad if I say so myself,” he murmured.
His self-satisfaction was brief, however. Because somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Sunday laughing. And he wasn’t sure the sound was one of congratulations. It sounded perilously close to that laugh she’d always given him when he’d been a damned fool.
Teenage girls would always defeat him.
Chapter One
“Hey, hey, good lookin’. Whatcha got cookin’?” Yvonne crooned as Leo Watson walked in the back door to the kitchen in Sunday’s Side, her family’s restaurant.
Leo gave her a half-hearted grin as he placed a large box of produce on the counter. He handed Aunt Riley the delivery list and an invoice. “You got everything except the beans. They’re slow coming in, thanks to all this damn rain.”
“That’s okay.” Riley peered into the box. “Damn. Look at those tomatoes. Gorgeous. I have no idea what you Watson boys do to grow such beautiful tomatoes. I swear I think you’ve got magical powers
you’re hiding from the world.”
Leo didn’t even crack a smile. “I wish.”
His subdued tone captured Yvonne’s attention. Leo had been delivering produce from his family’s organic farm since graduating from high school and entering the farming business full time. He and his brother, Josh, worked with their dad, who had farmed the same land with his father, while his mother and sister ran the farm market. Back in the days when it had been her grandmother Sunday running the restaurant, the deliveries were made by Leo’s grandfather.
Leo came by twice a week with fresh vegetables, and he typically hung out for a little while to shoot the breeze with her and Riley, or popped over to the pub to say hey to Padraig. For a few months last year, she and Leo had even taken up running together a couple mornings a week because Yvonne had wanted to lose weight, and she’d coerced him into joining her because, while he was totally fit, she’d thought it would help him manage his stress. The jogging club hadn’t lasted long, both of them excellent at coming up with excuses not to run.
Yvonne had noticed he’d been a bit of a bear for the past month or two, not saying more than a few words before rushing out again. She was starting to miss him.
“What’s wrong, Grumpy Gus?” she asked, pressing her shoulder into his, trying to provoke at least some sort of smile. “You doing okay?”
Leo’s frown was firmly in place, as he merely nodded in response.
“You know, I was thinking,” Yvonne said, starting to worry about him. Leo was always pleasant, polite, and when she managed to get him to sit still for three minutes, he was funny, great company.
Not that she’d convinced him to indulge in too many of those rare relaxing moments since they’d both left high school and started their own careers. Leo was—plain and simple—a workaholic. And while she didn’t find that particularly healthy, he’d always been pretty good at juggling all the balls, so she tried to accept it as part of his nature.