After dinner was over and the family had dispersed to their own homes, Daniel Kilcannon gave Trace the keys to a Waterford van and offered to walk with him to the driveway where they kept it parked. Boxy and spacious, it was more industrial than the old Plymouth Voyager, but the irony of what was being handed to him—along with the pure contentment that had come during dinner—had Trace smiling.
“You sure you don’t want to stay in housing tonight?” Daniel asked.
“No, I’m ready to go home. I can get there now, thanks to you, and the place is more than habitable, thanks to Pru.”
But the truth was, he wasn’t going home…yet. He was headed straight to Molly’s house, where they’d planned to meet after dinner once Pru had left for her friend’s house.
“But I am leaving Meatball here at the kennel,” he added. “If you don’t mind. I’d like to get to my house and make sure all of the tools and paint are all put away so it’s dog-safe for him.”
“Very responsible,” Daniel said.
“Thanks again for the wheels, Dr. K. At the salary you’ve offered, it won’t be long until I can get my own.”
“No rush,” Daniel assured him. “The van sits here at night, and when we need it during the day to move dogs, you’ll be here. I’m really happy about this arrangement.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “Seems like Molly is, too.”
Molly’s warning that no man would be good enough for Dr. Kilcannon’s daughter echoed in his head. And how could he blame Daniel for being the same protective father Trace knew he’d be with Pru?
Trace cleared his throat before answering. “Molly’s done an amazing job of taking care of Meatball,” he said carefully. “I’m grateful to you and her for saving his life.”
Daniel stared straight ahead as they walked, silent for a few steps before he sighed. “You know, Molly’s kind of the glue that holds this family together.”
Oh boy. Here we go. “You may think that, sir, but I’m pretty sure a family this tight doesn’t need glue.”
“We do. We did.” He slowed his step, his strong jaw clenching for a moment. “My wife used to have that job, but Molly really moved into the role these last few years.”
Trace looked at the man, trying to game where he was going. “And you don’t want that to change?”
“On the contrary,” he said softly. “I’m afraid she’s sacrificed so much to add the job of, well, glue-holder to her already packed schedule.”
Nope, definitely not sure where Daniel was going with this, but Trace had learned long ago that sometimes silence was much more effective at getting a person to talk, so he listened.
“I am aware that you two are more than just casual acquaintances,” Daniel finally said. “Would you like to know how I know that?”
“I assume you’ve seen us together.”
“I’ve caught a few meaningful glances and casual touches, yes,” Daniel said with a quick laugh. “But what I’ve really seen is a change in my daughter these last few weeks.”
“How so, sir?”
“Hard to describe, really, but Molly always seemed like a content and fulfilled young woman, loving work and the family and being a single mom.”
That slowed Trace’s step. “Doesn’t she still?”
“Of course, yes, but, well, when my wife died and Molly stepped up, as I said, I sensed a hollowness growing inside her.”
“I’m sure she misses her mother very much,” Trace said. “She talks about her frequently, and your wife sounded like a great lady.”
Daniel smiled. “That’s an understatement, son. She was one in a million. My best friend, my firm foundation, my…everything.” He cleared his throat as if the very words choked him up. “But as Pru grows older, Molly knows she has to have some very difficult conversations with her daughter, and I know she’d hoped her mother would help her through those talks.”
Difficult conversations about…Pru’s father. Trace could barely swallow, let alone respond. He should tell him now. This was his chance. This was his moment.
“And now I see this change in Molly, like she doesn’t feel quite that alone anymore.” Daniel stopped as they reached the van, turning to Trace. “I’m crediting you with that change.”
“I’m stunned and, honestly, humbled, if you think I could have helped her that way.”
Daniel gave him a sharp look. “I know you have. I sense an inner strength in you and a nurturing heart. I think…” He hesitated, then exhaled. “I think you’re good for Molly and Pru.”
“Pru, yes.” He took a slow breath. “I want you to know—”
“Oh, I know,” Daniel interjected. “We both know that it’s a package deal with my daughter.”
“About that package deal, sir.” He turned and looked into Daniel’s piercing blue eyes, seeing nothing but warmth and respect in his gaze. Respect that would melt away like metal under a burning flame when Trace told him the truth. He’d waited his whole life for a man like Daniel to look at him with respect. Waited to be worthy of a woman like Molly. Waited to make someone like Pru feel proud.
Waited so long, he couldn’t bring himself to lose it all yet.
“Yes?” Daniel asked.
Trace shook off the temptation and frowned as he tried to pull together the right words. “I want you to know, sir, that you have my promise that I will do whatever I have to do, whenever I have to do it, at any sacrifice to myself, to make sure your daughter and granddaughter are happy and safe.”
“That’s all this Dogfather really wants.” The older man’s smile was slow, and wide, and made his blue eyes dance a little as he handed him the keys. “You drive this van carefully, son.”
Trace took the keys and nodded. “I will, and thank you.”
He thought about the conversation the whole time he drove to Molly’s, where he’d been a few times over the last weeks to pick up or drop off Pru. The whole way, he mulled over the promise he’d just made, thinking about all the ways he could keep it. They’d tell Pru the truth, of course, as soon as the presentation was over. They’d carry her through whatever white water swirled in her life because of it. They’d work together every day at Waterford, and they’d…
As he pulled into the tiny driveway next to Molly’s blue car, Trace froze as he replayed his thoughts.
They’d do this. They’d do that.
He thought of he and Molly as a they. How had that happened? When?
Before he could answer the question, she stepped out of the front door of the quaint two-story house, already changed into an oversized shirt and comfy sweat pants, her curls wild around her face and shoulders.
He couldn’t help smiling as he strode toward her, already aching to pull her into his arms.
“What took so long?” she asked, holding the door open to invite him in.
“Had a talk with your dad.”
She drew back, eyes wide. “About?”
“You. And Pru.”
“What did you say?”
“Not important.”
“It is to me.”
He paused inside the door, taking a whiff of a citrusy, sweet scent he’d noticed before when he’d stopped in with her to get Pru or pick something up on the way to his house. “Did Pru leave?” he asked.
“She’s gone for the night.” She lifted her brows in a sexy invitation. “And you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”
He slid his hand along her cheek, loving the feel of her smooth skin against his palm. “Truth is, I never want to leave.”
She sighed into him and looked up for a long moment, barely breathing.
“So, here we are again, Irish.” He grazed his thumb over her lower lip. “Where should we go?”
“Somewhere I can kiss the holy hell out of you all night long.”
He laughed softly at the echo of his own words spoken fourteen years ago. “I got a minivan in the driveway.”
“Maybe next time.” Silently, she led him toward the stairs.
She kissed him
all the way into her bedroom, pulling him into a dimly lit sanctuary and folding into his arms to make every dream he ever had seem like child’s play compared to the real thing.
* * *
For a man who hadn’t been with a lover for well over a decade, Trace showed remarkable restraint in the bedroom. But Molly soon figured out that he wasn’t holding back to show his finesse as they fell onto the bed and kissed until they were both breathless. He was savoring her.
The realization was as intoxicating as his hands when he slowly pulled her sweat shirt over her head and discovered she’d ditched her bra along with her Sunday clothes. Letting out an appreciative groan, he caressed her skin like she was made of spun silk, his fingers light and reverent. “My sweet, sexy Molly. You’re more beautiful than ever.”
Every kiss made her blood hum and skin sing. Every whisper of warm air on her breasts made her want to tunnel her fingers into his hair and press him against her. Every pulse of his body against hers made her want to shed all clothes and feel him everywhere.
While he suckled and kissed her, she unbuttoned his shirt, spreading it wide to get her hands on his chest. His muscles bunched under her touch and she whimpered in appreciation of every masculine bulge and cut.
“You had this all set up.” Trace took a quick glance around her room as he sat up to help her push the shirt over his shoulders.
Not really. After Pru left, Molly had showered and freshened up, then lit one soft light, made sure the bed was folded back, and threw a few condoms on the nightstand. “You said you wanted everything just right.”
He tossed the shirt on the floor and gave her a look of disbelief. “I didn’t mean the setting, Irish.”
She lay back down on the pillow, looking up at him. “What did you mean?”
“Us,” he said without hesitation. “I meant everything needed to be right with us. We needed to trust each other and care about each other and…” He shook his head as if he couldn’t finish.
“You said you wanted it to be meaningful,” she finished for him, wrapping her fingers around his neck to pull him closer.
“Yeah,” he said huskily, falling into the next kiss.
“It is meaningful.” She slid her thigh along his leg to punctuate that point. “I don’t quite know what it means yet,” she admitted. “But I know it’s something.”
He responded with a long, openmouthed kiss, then worked his way down to her belly, dragging her yoga pants all the way down so she had nothing on but a black silk thong she’d chosen only for him to see.
“Bad girl,” he teased, running his finger over the top of it and sending sparks of crazy, sexy pleasure through her.
“You should talk, with all those tattoos.”
“Some you haven’t even seen.”
She dragged her hand over his washboard stomach, finding his navel and a thin trail of hair that led lower. “Show me,” she murmured into his ear.
She felt him hiss in a breath when she touched him, both of them too lost to talk anymore. They communicated with touches, kisses, and a slow exploration of every pleasure point they could find.
When the heat had built to the point where the room was filled with nothing but ragged breaths and pleas for more, he sheathed himself and hovered over her, looking into her eyes.
“I know what it means,” he whispered.
It took her a minute to force her brain to pick up that thread of conversation and think of something other than the fiery need for him to be inside her. “What?”
“You, going to all this trouble and taking me into your bed and body. I know what it means.”
“It means I’m attracted to you, that I trust you, and that I want you here with me tonight. More nights. Lots of nights. Maybe a few days, too.” She tightened her grip on his arm, not wanting to beg for him to enter her, but she might if the conversation went on for one more minute.
“It means I’m worthy of you.” The words were thick with emotion and spoken with awe.
“Yes, of course you are.” She reached up and cupped his face, stunned by the fact that he could doubt that. But then she remembered his history and how many times life had made him feel worthless. “In fact, I’m honored to make love to you, Trace Bancroft.”
He closed his eyes as if the words had sliced right through him, finally letting his weight fall and spreading her legs with his hips to slide inside her. They moved in slow silence for three, four, five beats, then both closed their eyes and held on to each other and found the perfect rhythm.
Molly clung to him, pressed her lips against his shoulder, and welcomed this man into her body and heart. When she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on the blue outline of the shamrock on his shoulder, reminding her that in fourteen years, he’d only been with her. The first time had meant enough to memorialize it.
And the second? Maybe she’d get a tattoo.
She rolled with pleasure, lost with each stroke of his body deeper into her.
He murmured her name, his breath uneven and desperate, his whole body owning her from top to bottom. Cut by shards of pure pleasure, she finally tumbled into a long, sweet, delicious release against him, and he did the same a moment later, finally resting his whole body on hers in complete satisfaction.
Molly listened to his heart and inhaled the musky scent of sex on the sheets. Stroking his back lightly, circling that shamrock on his shoulder, she sighed as her breath came back to normal and her body began to feel sore in places she’d forgotten she owned.
Deep inside. Way deep inside. Maybe where her heart resided.
What did this mean? Trace felt worthy and she felt…full.
“I never realized I was so empty,” she admitted on the next soft exhale.
Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. “You were?”
“I know, it’s crazy. I have a family the size of a small country, a daughter who needs and loves me, a thriving business, a town full of people who’ve known me since I was a child, and yet…”
“You felt alone?”
She eased back so she could see his eyes, glittering in the dim light. “I didn’t realize how much I needed touching and kissing and…you.” She stroked his back again. “I needed you and didn’t know it.”
“Now you’ve got me.” He kissed her tenderly. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
“Long,” she whispered. “Don’t disappear on me again, Trace. Even when things get tough with Pru, and they will. Even if my family doesn’t throw their arms around you like you’re a long-lost brother when they find out the truth about you being Pru’s father. Okay? Don’t disappear again.”
He searched her face. “It must have been hard for you, huh? When you found out you were pregnant and I was gone.”
“It was lonely,” she admitted, realizing only this minute how lonely. “I needed you. I guess I’ve needed you for thirteen years and didn’t realize how much.”
He closed his eyes and wrapped his whole body around hers, cuddling her into him, stroking her hair, and feathering kisses on her face. “I wish life had been different.”
“I guess you do, but right now? This is exactly what I want it to be. Just don’t disappear again.”
“No worries, Irish. I’m in it for the long haul.”
She closed her eyes and let his words and mouth and body soothe a wound she hadn’t even known she had.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Prudence Anne Kilcannon, and I represent Mr. Margolis’s eighth-grade class project in community service.” Pru closed her eyes and stopped for a long second. “Maybe I should say, ‘Hi, I’m Pru.’ I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard.”
“There’s no such thing as trying too hard.” From the sofa in Molly’s living room, Trace gestured for the practice to continue. “And you’re doing great. One more time through from the top and you got this.”
“Or you could stop rehearsing and eat this pizza before it gets cold.” Molly lifted
the box lid and waved some of the aroma their way. “Pepperoni and pineapple, Pru. It’s your favorite.”
“Really?” Trace looked oddly excited by that. “I thought I was the only one who loved pizza that way.”
So pizza preference was hereditary, Molly mused. Because no one else in Molly’s family ate that combination. In fact, her brothers complained loudly about it when Pru handled the ordering on a Kilcannon family movie night.
But Pru wasn’t interested in anything but her notes and presentation at that moment. “Mom, you have to let me run through this one more time to make sure I come in under ten minutes or I’ll be disqualified.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “You are not going to be disqualified, and I’m starving.”
“See?” Pru said to Trace. “See what I have to put up with? No regard for rules, no respect for thorough preparation. She just wants to have fun.”
Laughing at the exchange, Trace pushed up and held a hand out to Pru. “You need both in life, Umproo. Gotta have fun and be prepared. Also, gotta have pizza. C’mon, let’s take a break and make your mama happy.”
“Thank you,” Molly said with an exaggerated sigh, putting three paper plates on the counter.
Even Meatball got up from his comfy corner spot and came over as if he was part of the party, giving Molly that look that most people would fall for.
“No, baby, I’m sorry. No table food for precious dogs who’ve lost most of their stomach.”
He sank to the ground with a whine.
“Oh my gosh, he’s the most dramatic dog,” Pru said.
“Usually gets him what he wants,” Trace agreed, taking his slice and sitting on a counter stool.
“Well, he can’t have pizza. But…” Molly turned to the bag of healthy treats she’d brought home for him. “He can have this!”
At the tone of her voice, Meatball was up, barking, rounding the counter to take his treat and then nuzzle Molly’s leg.
“He officially loves you more than I do,” Trace said.
At the statement, both Molly and Pru blinked at him. After a second, he realized what he’d said. “I mean, more than he loves me. Not more than…” He laughed and shook his head. “Stuck my foot right into it, didn’t I?”
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