He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want this to end. The sex was incredible, but the connection, the tenderness she stirred in his blood, was more potent than he’d anticipated. Or been prepared for. He’d always cared for her. Known she was important. But now—
“You okay?” she asked, her hand pressed to his cheek.
That was the question. If she was talking about this? Yes. “Okay” didn’t begin to describe it. Everything about tonight had been incredible. “Yes.” He smiled, lying by her side and pulling her close.
If she was talking about his heart? He wasn’t so sure. It had taken a hell of a long time to piece it back together. He couldn’t give it away, not without a fight. No matter what it wanted.
…
Nick did his best to act like he didn’t give a shit about the fact that Lane’s hand was sliding along Diana’s skinny legs. She wasn’t his problem. If she was, she wouldn’t be glaring at him like that or giving him the cold shoulder. So why did he feel so damn protective? It’s not like she was Honor. They were not family. Thank God she was not his sister. Having Diana as a sister would be like waking up daily to being kicked in the balls.
“Nick?” Fran offered him her half-charred marshmallow.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t drop this one.” She giggled, leaning against him. “You want a beer?”
Hell no. He was done drinking. Forever. “No. This is good.” He leaned forward to bite the melty-sticky marshmallow from the skewer.
“Oh my God, Nick!” She squealed as he leaned in to kiss her. “You are covered in marshmallow.”
He hesitated. They’d kissed before, once or twice, but never in public—surrounded by their friends—and never when she was in a bikini. But she was in a bikini, and he was having a hell of a hard time ignoring that fact. Or the fact that her overflowing top was pressed against his arm. And he had some view. His gaze slipped from her face to her cleavage. Damn it. Fran’s breathing picked up, her gaze falling to his mouth—and shooting blood to parts of his body that could make this whole thing way awkward and potentially embarrassing.
Just fricking awesome.
She was kissing him. That was a first. “Missed you,” she whispered, winding her arms around his neck, which put those hella-soft curves against his bare chest.
“Wanna walk?” he asked.
But her eyes went wide. “Oh? You… Walk where?”
He shrugged, draping his beach towel around his neck for camouflage, and stood. “Along the shore.” At least until he wasn’t pitching a half tent.
Fran glanced around the fire, her knees drawn to her chest. “Just you and me?”
He frowned. “Yeah?” That’s when he realized they had an audience. And why Fran was freaking out. Some people might be cool hooking up in the woods when there was a crowd of people close by, but that wasn’t him. Cheesy or not, he wanted his first time to be…cool. But he wasn’t going to tell her that here—now. “For a walk.”
She didn’t believe him. From the giggles and whispers around the bonfire, nobody did. Not that they mattered. Fran did. She couldn’t look at him—she was too busy pulling on her swimsuit cover-up.
What the hell? Didn’t she know him? He wasn’t out to screw her. Is that what she thought of him? That he was like…like Lane?
“Okay.” Fran stood, red-cheeked and nervous.
“Looks like someone’s getting lucky.” Lane laughed.
It took everything he had not to say something. His jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching it. But he wasn’t going to pick a fight, because Lane was an asshat. He’d want to fight here, in public. Make a scene. Make Nick look like a tool. Not happening.
“You okay, Fran?” Diana asked, coming around the fire. She stood there, looking back and forth between him and Fran like Fran needed rescuing.
Is Fran okay? What the hell? He glanced at his girlfriend—sort of girlfriend. She didn’t look okay. She looked freaked out.
And it irritated him. A whole hell of a lot. “Fran, just forget it.” He sounded pissed. And he was, but not at her. Not really.
“Cockblocked!” Lane laughed, louder this time.
“Are you kidding me?” he snapped, rethinking the whole restraint thing. Using Lane as a punching bag sounded pretty damn good at the moment.
Fran grabbed his hand. “Come on, Nick.” She stood, tugging him away from the fire. “Let’s walk.”
But Nick was seeing red. “It’s fine.”
“No, Nick, come on.” Fran yanked on his hand. “Please.”
Nick blew out a long, slow breath. “Fran…”
She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Come on. We’re walking.”
He resisted for a few seconds, then let her lead him away from the fire, the crowd around the bonfire, and Lane. After ten minutes of walking, he said, “All I want is to walk.” He cleared his throat, hoping he’d sound less like an asshole. “Not…that. What he thought.”
“That guy really gets to you.” She threaded her fingers with his.
He nodded.
“Because he’s a jerk?” She paused. “Or because of Diana?”
He stopped walking then. “What?”
“You seem sort of really hung up on her,” she whispered.
“No. God, no. We grew up together.” He shook his head. He frowned, unable to think about Di that way. “More like the pain-in-the-ass sister I never wanted sort of thing.” All true. He didn’t want to think of her that way…so why did he? Dammit. Because unlike Honor, she didn’t have someone looking out for her. And, clearly, she needed someone looking out for her. And, for some reason, he felt like he was that person. Fuck. “She’s a screwup. She and her dad have had a rough time. I don’t get why she wants to make it worse.” Didn’t he though? He hadn’t exactly been easy on his mother.
“That’s all?” Fran stared up at him.
She was seriously gorgeous. “That. Is. All.” Maybe she didn’t get how into her he was?
“Okay.” She was smiling. “I’m glad.”
Now who’s the asshole. He tugged her close. “Believe me. You’re the reason I’m out walking in the dark. Your bikini?” He shook his head. “Seriously dangerous.”
She was smiling. “You like it?”
“I like you, Fran.” He swallowed. “And, yeah, maybe the bikini, too.”
“Good.” She rested her head against his chest. “For the record, I didn’t think you wanted to, you know, out here. I was freaking out because my bikini strap broke. That’s why I had to put on my coverup. And fast.” She tugged the fabric down, drawing his attention to her broken strap.
Nick swallowed hard. “Oh.” So much for walking it off. He adjusted his towel, very thankful for her cover-up, his towel, and that his girlfriend was pretty awesome.
Chapter Eighteen
Graham unzipped the suitcase and pulled out the smaller one inside. “These two should work. Need anything else?” he asked, sitting on the couch to go through the inside pockets.
Diana’s hands rested on the back of his chair as she leaned forward over his shoulder. “Perfect.”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad. Looking forward to the trip?”
“I hope Felicity changes her mind.” She pushed off the chair.
He didn’t say anything. He’d told her Felicity had been touched by the offer but that there was too much happening for them to join them. Which was the truth. I wish she’d change her mind, too.
After last night, everything was different. Before midnight, he’d reluctantly slipped from her bed. She hadn’t made it easy on him—her kisses almost changed his mind. Instead of hurrying from the house, he’d stood watching her—smiling when she sleepily told him to be careful driving home—wondering what a future with her would look like. Wondering if it could be as good as he imagined it to be. He’d pressed a final kiss to
her forehead, peeked in on Jack, and left the house—tripping over Pecan on the way out.
As appealing as the idea of them all vacationing together was, he wouldn’t push. Felicity’s devotion to her children was fundamental to who she was. He’d never push her to go against that. Not that he’d walked away. He’d never be able to walk away from her, not if she needed him. Last night was incredible, and he had no regrets, but he knew better than to think that what happened would take precedence over her kids. When things with Nick and Jack and Diana had settled, they’d find a way to make time for each other. When, not if. Until then, the chances of last night happening again anytime soon were slim.
“You look tired,” Diana said. “Didn’t sleep well?”
He shrugged. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked, hoping to steer conversation into neutral waters.
“I did. I met a really nice girl. Fran.” She shrugged. “She’s sort of obnoxiously popular but still cool.”
“That’s good?” he asked.
“It’s different.”
“Good different?” he asked.
She nodded. “Until Nick showed up. He was acting like a total dick. Giving me the cold shoulder and being a cocky asshole to Fran. I told her she could do way better.”
He frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Nick.” Then again, he’d never thought Nick would ask Felicity to give up a chance at happiness. At least, he’d like to think he could make her happy.
“Don’t worry. I set him straight.” Her eyes flashed.
He could imagine. Graham stared at his daughter then—She was stunning. No eyeliner. No dark smudges. Just Diana’s spiky lashes and hazel eyes. “You look pretty,” he said.
Her cheeks turned red. “Whatever.” But she was smiling. “You don’t want to hear what I said to him?”
“Who?” he teased.
“Dad.” She crossed her arms and frowned.
“Go ahead.” He waited.
“I told him he was worse than I was, keeping his mother from being happy. And you know he is—after the way he acted.” She stuck her chin up. “I said he couldn’t call me a screwup and then do something like that to her.”
Graham was more than a little proud of her. He stood, staring down at his daughter. “You’re not a screwup, Diana.”
She rolled her eyes. “What are you smoking?” She flopped into the office chair he’d vacated. “We both know that’s a lie. I’m a screwup.” She shrugged, spinning the chair. “A recovering screwup.”
He laughed.
Diana peered around him. “Who is that? Is that Miss Takahashi?” She slipped from his chair and ran across the room, peering between the sheer curtains. “She has a cake.”
“Miss Takahashi?” he asked, heading to the door.
“The assistant principal who booted me out of school?” Diana reminded him. “She was all moony-eyed over you.” She ducked. “Shit, she’s waving.”
He frowned right back at her. “We can’t exactly hide, Diana. She saw you.”
“So,” she argued, crouching beneath the window. “I say we hide anyway. She’ll get the hint.”
He didn’t mention her phone call or the fact that he hadn’t called her back. It hadn’t been intentional, he’d just forgotten. Now he felt like an ass. And his daughter wanted him to hide? He owed the woman and apology. And some honesty.
Her sharp knock had Diana waving him away from the door. “Don’t do it. Don’t.” She pretended to be choking and flopped onto the floor.
He was trying not to laugh when he opened the door.
“Graham,” the woman gushed, holding a Bundt cake wrapped in cellophane. “I was in the neighborhood.” He recognized her then. Attractive woman. Great smile. Chin-length black hair. Amazing child advocate—something Diana hadn’t appreciated. But she wasn’t Felicity.
“You didn’t have to do that.” He tried to ignore Diana twitching on the floor.
“I did. I promised Widow Rainey I’d hand deliver this.” She handed him an envelope.
“What is it?” he asked.
“An invitation.” She smiled. “An adoption party for the Buchanans. You know, Felicity is taking in Matt’s son? Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“No.” He could honestly say he never had. “But I know Felicity. She has a huge heart.” That was why he was so drawn to her.
Miss Takahashi shifted from foot to foot.
“I’d invite you in, but Diana is sick, and we’re heading to the doctor.” He shot her a look. “I’m very worried about her.”
“Oh dear, I hope it’s not serious.”
Diana sat up and rolled her eyes.
“I was hoping we could get that coffee date on the books?” She smiled, batting her eyes. “Remember?”
“I do. I apologize for not calling you back.” He nodded. “But right now is probably not the best time.” Honestly, this was a conversation he’d rather have without his daughter present. “May I call you later this afternoon?”
“I’m feeling better, Dad,” Diana singsonged, trying not to laugh. “Go ahead.” She smiled at him, up to no good.
“Oh.” Miss Takahashi’s smile grew. “How sweet of her.”
“That’s Diana. A real peach.” But he was smiling anyway.
“So, coffee. What would be good for you?” she asked.
What the hell. “I’m going to be honest with you, Miss Takahashi. You’re a lovely woman. But I can’t.” Because of Felicity. He swallowed. “I mean… I happen to…” To what? Care for? No. More. Dammit. “I am…in love with someone else. So, having coffee with you would be wrong for you and me and her.”
Miss Takahashi stared at him. “Oh. And this woman? Does she reciprocate?”
Did she? And, if she did, would her son accept it? He shook his head. “I don’t know. But if she doesn’t, I plan on doing everything I can to change her mind.”
“I appreciate the honesty, Graham.” She offered him the cake. “It’s refreshing.”
He took the cake. “Thank you again.”
“I wish you the best of luck, Dr. Murphy.” Her smile wasn’t nearly as bright but there no doubting her sincerity. “Take care.” She waved and headed back to her car.
He nodded and closed the door. “Here.”
Diana took the cake, staring at him. “That was the single coolest thing you’ve ever done, Dad.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to seriously regret it.”
“No. No way.” Diana shook her head. “She’ll tell Widow Rainey and Widow Rainey will tell everyone. Felicity will know, and Nick will realize he’s a tool, and everything will be okay.” She eyed the cake. “And we’ll go on vacation at the beach house, and it will be good. You’ll see.”
He watched his daughter carry the cake into the kitchen and hoped like hell she was right.
…
Charity was surrounded by the widows’ group. It was her mother’s month to host and, since the cabin was too small for them all to gather, they’d converged around the large wooden farm table in Felicity’s kitchen. They enjoyed her hospitality while gossiping and whispering and dropping the name of every bachelor in Pecan Valley in the hope either sister would react. Charity sipped cups of tea, ate too many slices of her sister’s lemon pound cake, and was content to be healthy—for her baby to be healthy.
Her late-night trip to the ER had been the single most terrifying event of her life. The very real possibility that something was wrong with her baby had been…devastating. In the time it had taken for the doctor to run her urinalysis and figure out it was an infection, she’d accepted that this baby was hers.
More than accepted. Wanted. She wanted this baby. Whoever was in her stomach, she couldn’t wait to meet them.
With a plate of lemon cake in hand, she marveled as Felicity smiled and nodded and occasionally added somethi
ng neutral like, “Really?” or “I hadn’t heard that,” or “My goodness.” So far, Filly had said “my goodness” five times more than the other two combined. Charity stroked Pecan, rubbing the giant golden feline behind the ear as she devoured her cake.
“Pace yourself,” Felicity whispered, handing her a dainty etched glass plate piled high with finger sandwiches and delicately sliced vegetables.
Charity wrinkled her nose at her sister and passed the plate. She was the only one sitting here who wasn’t a widow. Surely that earned her the right to a couple—or three—pieces of cake.
“Aunt Charity.” Nick peeked in and waved her over.
“Excuse me.” She hopped up, dumping Pecan from her lap. “The nephew calls.”
“Sheriff Martinez is here,” Nick whispered, grabbing her arm. “Did he change his mind? Am I going to get arrested in front of Mimi’s widows’ group?” His voice wavered.
“Breathe. Relax. Did you invite him in?” she asked.
“I tried. He’s just…standing there.” He pointed to the entry hall.
Braden Martinez filled up the space, his expression as fixed as ever.
“Sheriff,” she said, smiling up at him. “What brings you around?” His steadfast presence throughout her nightmare hospital trip had guaranteed Braden Martinez the Nicest Guy Ever award—if there was such a thing.
He stood there. “Checking in.”
“He’s doing well, I promise.” She lowered her voice. “I haven’t been with him every second of every day, of course. But he hasn’t broken curfew, and the party he went to at the lake had a lot of adult chaperones so I’m pretty sure—”
“On you.” His gaze swept over her and held.
She couldn’t blink. He was staring at her. Making eye contact. Really, honest-to-goodness seeing her. And she had no idea what to do. Say something. Anything. “My goodness,” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “Here.” He thrust a brown paper bag at her. “I’m…” He glanced at her, glanced beyond her, and froze.
“Sheriff Martinez?” Widow Rainey. “My, my, my. Won’t you come in? We have all sorts of deliciousness that Felicity made.”
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