Spring Fling Kitty: The Hart Family (Have A Hart Book 3)

by Rachelle Ayala

  “I’ll bet. He’s a sweet cuddleball though.”

  “He likes your hands.” She played with his fingers, as if unable to keep her hands from his. “Hey, you rescued Greyheart, too, so you’re ahead already.”

  “Third time’s the charm.” He repeated the barista’s comment. Forgetting caution, he brought her hands to his lips.

  “Then I better watch over you,” she said. “Because it means something’s going to happen that you need saving from.”

  Somehow the thought of her watching over him warmed his heart. Other than his mother and sisters, no woman he’d dated thought of him as needing watching over. They all relied on him to be the rescuer, the fixer, the protector—especially Elaine who treated him as her own handyman, dispatching honey-dos at the snap of her fingers.

  This young woman had caught his attention, but he had to let her go. Soon, but not yet.

  Connor let his lips savor the smooth skin over her hands. This would be all the kissing he’d ever get with her. Closing his eyes, he felt rather than saw her quick intake of breath, and then she was stroking his jaw, and dang it, if he wasn’t leaning into her like Cinder begging for a petting.

  Before the moment got too embarrassing, the barista swooped in with the steaming coffee.

  “Double heart espressos for the two lovebirds,” he said. He’d made two hearts out of the milk foam in each cup—a small heart enclosed in a larger heart.

  “These are too pretty to drink,” Nadine said.

  “From one artist to another.” The barista bowed, then turned to Connor. “Did you know your Nadine’s a painter and a poet?”

  “I’m supposed to find that out by myself.” Connor released Nadine’s hand, very reluctantly. He was going overboard for her. Time to burst the sweet bubble he’d been floating in. “Actually, I already know your sister, Elaine.”

  Nadine’s chin snapped up from her coffee. “No wonder you never asked my name. You tease.”

  “I only found out about you last night. Elaine never talks about you.”

  Nadine’s lips twisted and her eyes darted to the side. “She’s ashamed of me. I’m a half-sister, in case you haven’t figured out. I’m the love child, to use a euphemism.”

  Connor bristled at the thought that Elaine was ashamed of her sister. “My parents are in love, so that means I’m a love child, too.”

  “That’s not what it usually means,” Nadine said. “It’s a nice way of saying illegitimate. What does Elaine say about me?”

  “Not much.”

  “Guess there’s not much to say. Elaine and Michael are Phi Beta Kappa, doctors, Ivy league, double, triple degrees. I’m almost twenty-five with no degree, no job, and soon, no place to live. Except Elaine offered me her place.”

  A dark cloud settled over Connor’s shoulders. Elaine hadn’t informed Nadine of her plans. Likely, she hadn’t even told Nadine about him, the fiancé. Otherwise, Nadine wouldn’t have expressed her attraction to him so openly.

  “Hey, Elaine might not have much to say about you, but I’m sure you’re talented. I’d like to know more. Painting I get, but why poetry? Does everything have to rhyme?”

  “No, it doesn’t have to rhyme.” Nadine lifted the coffee cup to her lips and blew on it before sipping. “I much prefer free verse—it’s both easier and harder—more sublime.”

  While she spoke, Connor couldn’t remove his focus from her delectable mouth. This was so wrong, except everything about her felt right.

  “What does it do if it doesn’t rhyme?” Connor asked, belatedly after realizing she’d stopped talking.

  Nadine smiled and set the cup down. “I paint with words. That is called poetry.”

  “How do you paint with words?”

  “I brush words across a blank page and create touch, feeling, action, and color.”

  “You mean you draw the words with your paintbrush?”

  “Not necessarily. Sometimes I paint words on canvas, but other times, it’s just words. Observations, feelings.” She was doing that adoring thing with her eyes again, looking at him in a way that made his heart beat hard. “Blue mud, hanging moss, lurk. Black pebble, gushing stream, awake. Green reeds, singing pines, behold. Orange sky, bleeding diamonds, weep.”

  Connor caught his breath and let the words play in his mind. On the surface they made no sense, but a blanket of grief poured over him. It was a story—it was him.

  “I’m blue mud? Is that how you see me?”

  “Maybe. I’m looking at you and the words string themselves together. I take the poem, or jibberish, as some call it, and I wipe paint across a canvas, letting it flow. The story runs ahead of me and my brush follows it. The colors are the actors and they shout out an attack, or rest and retreat.”

  “Could you write down the poem?” Connor grabbed a napkin. “Before you forget.”

  “I don’t forget. If I do, it means a more meaningful word has intruded.” Nadine took a pen from her purse and wrote the words she’d recited. “I’m hoping the last line is different, but the words aren’t coming right now.”

  Connor stared at the poem. “Anything’s better than bleeding diamonds and weeping.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to do the obvious. Sparkling diamonds, rejoice. Or glittering diamonds, love. Those are trite and there’s no feeling, no emotion. Bleeding diamonds, can you see and feel it?”

  A chill skittered down Connor’s spine. “Definitely feeling it. But let me change the ending. Pink sky, grinning diamond, trust.”

  “You’re a poet, Connor.”

  “No, it’s what I wish to feel at the end of my life.”

  “Why pink?”

  “Because white is too common, and pink, well, it’s like your rosy cheeks.” Or the flush of a satisfied woman. But he was certainly not going to go there. “The grinning is me.”

  “Grinning because of what? You pulling a fast one?”

  “No.” It would be the self-satisfied grin of a man in love. But how could he admit it out loud to her? “Only one diamond, though. And trust, because it comes before love.”

  Neither spoke for a long moment. They sat in that small coffee shop, the one with the hanging plants, the loud posters, sticks of incense, Joan Baez wailing about “Love” being a four-letter word, and the aroma of earthy coffee. Lost in the beauty, without thought, just being at the table of wonder—two cooling cups of espresso between them—the center of their universe.

  Chapter Nine

  Nadine could look into Connor’s eyes forever—not because they were clear or blue or that she was hopelessly attracted to him. Rather, he’d finished the poem the way she would have wanted to, with a wishful hope that something lovely could develop between them.

  Except, nothing was clear, and she’d put her emotions out there for him to touch, handle, and examine. That was what poetry did to the soul—complete exposure—but only to those who got it.

  She’d once shown a poem to her father, and the first thing he asked her was what grade she got on it. The next was whether she’d entered it in a competition. He’d completely lost the fact that she’d written it for him—to expose the yearning in her heart, her need for him, and the way she saw him or wanted to see him.

  Elaine was the same. She’d skimmed her birthday card while taking a call from work, then said, “Cute.”

  But Connor? He got it, and it pained him—as if meeting her eyes was at once the most tortuous thing he was compelled to do—like a moth burned by a lamp, hurting, yet returning to it over and over again.

  “What is it, Connor?” She held his hands across the table. “I love how you finished the poem, but you don’t believe it.”

  “I want to believe in happy endings, but I’ve seen too much, and some of it is my fault.”

  “Like what?” She was peering into a private place, maybe being nosy, but he was important to her.

  “Sending guys into a burning building. Deciding who goes in and who stays back. Stuff like that. The way you ended the poem,
I see an orange sky lit with flames. Diamonds which are supposed to be forever, bleeding and weeping. Is this the future you see for me?”

  “No, Connor, no. The words come to me from the universe, and I feel them, but they can change, and you changed them. We don’t speak things into existence. We don’t have that kind of power. We create our futures with what we believe and trust in.”

  “I’ve never met a girl like you.” He paused, hesitating, as if prepping to tell her something important.

  Nadine’s pulse raced and she wet her dry lips, feeling as if she were teetering on the edge of an abyss—that what she hoped for was hopelessly out of reach.

  He let go of her hands, not abruptly, but lingering, as if this were a final farewell. “I want you to trust me. There are things I have to tell you.”

  She wanted to tell him to stop. That she didn’t need to know, that he was only a stranger, maybe an acquaintance, that she didn’t need to trust or believe him. But her heart made a lie out of her willpower and so she waited with bated breath.

  “Woof, woof.” The cowbells on the coffee shop door jangled and the skittering clicking of doggie claws rushed across the floor.

  Connor’s body jerked as if he’d been roused from a dream and his eyes darted toward the newcomers—a woman with a hyperactive Dalmatian puppy on a leash.

  Relief swept over Nadine along with heavy pressure over her chest. So. That was it. Connor had a girlfriend. Of course. How had she missed the cues?

  “There you are,” the woman greeted Connor, but her curious gaze immediately rested on Nadine. “I happened to be at the station, and they said you stepped out without Cinder.”

  The puppy scrabbled to paw Connor’s knee, eager for petting and head rubs. Connor petted the puppy stiffly, causing it to whine and wiggle even harder for attention.

  Nadine wanted to kick herself for not going into this more carefully. The woman was attractive—with reddish brown hair and dark green eyes. She and Connor made a perfectly matched photogenic couple, the kind one saw in honeymoon travel ads.

  The hyperactive Dalmatian turned her attention to Nadine. Her sharp puppy claws snagged on Nadine’s skirt, and she moved a mile a minute, sniffing, pawing, wagging, and licking.

  “Cinder, be a good girl and leave Nadine alone,” Connor commanded.

  The puppy either didn’t know her name or didn’t care. She nosed Nadine and pushed her head against Nadine’s legs, begging to be petted.

  “It’s okay. Your name’s Cinder? What a cute name for a fireman’s puppy,” Nadine said to the dog, unable to face Connor’s no-doubt angry girlfriend. She rubbed the puppy’s loose skin good and hard. She was spotted all over, with one black ear and the other almost white with a few spots. Her eyes were white on top and black underneath, making her look like her mascara had run. Meanwhile, the wrinkles on her face were so adorable, Nadine wanted to kiss and cuddle her. Maybe if she paid attention to the puppy, she could somehow slide under the angry girlfriend radar.

  While Cinder kissed and pawed at her, both Connor and the woman were quietly seething, most likely waiting for Nadine to excuse herself before the fireworks started.

  Getting the hint, Nadine pushed her chair back and stood. “I have to be going.”

  “Well, nice to meet you, too,” the angry girlfriend said. “Whatever your name is.”

  Connor grunted and said through his teeth. “Cait, will you stop? You know full well her name’s Nadine.”

  “No thanks to you,” Cait said in an acidic voice.

  “Fine,” Connor said. “Cait, this is Nadine. Nadine, this is Cait.”

  He sounded like a child forced to say “sorry” but not meaning it.

  “Nice to meet you,” Nadine said to Cait, then nodded at Connor. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Hey, wait.” Connor put his hand on Nadine’s shoulder. Even now, his touch ignited sparks on her. “I still want to talk to you, but I have to get back to the station. Can I get your number?”

  This was awkward. Nadine shook her head and picked up her purse, completely and utterly mortified. “It’s better if I leave now.”

  Her face hot, she strode toward the door, all too aware of everyone staring at her. Dang. This was her favorite coffee shop, and she could never show her face here again.

  Not only was she a clumsy oaf who couldn’t wait tables, but now, she was an official boyfriend thief.

  As for Connor, her radar was completely clouded by her wishful thinking. He was like any other cheating guy. What had she expected? That a hot hunk of a fire chief would be any different than her father, the doctor?

  Different occupations. Same result. Her mother was right. Men were biologically conditioned to spread their genes around, and desirable men at the top of their game would never be loyal to a single woman.

  “Wow, that was rude of you.” Connor glared at his sister as he left a tip on the table. “Couldn’t you see I was having a private conversation?”

  “All I could see were your googly eyes,” Cait retorted. “Look, I’m not a fan of Elaine, not at all. But if you’re interested in Nadine, you should break it off with Elaine first.”

  “I’m not interested in Nadine.” Connor picked up Cinder and stood. “At least as anything more than a friend. I was getting to know her and about to set the record straight.”

  Oh, how that lie ripped through his chest. If anything, saying the words aloud, that he wasn’t interested, pounded into his heart the exact opposite. He was more than interested in Nadine. He was awestruck by her, and fear had gripped him when she walked out the door—as if losing her would be to lose all hope for a fulfilling life full of pink skies and grinning diamonds.

  “Oh really? You were giving her that love-struck look when I walked in.” Cait followed him to the door of the coffee shop, seemingly oblivious to the audience who turned their heads at the spectacle.

  “I’m not going to discuss this with you any further.” Connor cringed at the thought that she would most certainly discuss this latest development with their mother and sisters, and together, the Hart women would analyze his entire relationship with Elaine and declare it dead and over with.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Not when he’d waited his entire life for Elaine to finally choose him.

  “Look, Cait. Please don’t mention any of this,” Connor said. “Nadine is going to be a very important person for me and Elaine—both of us. I can’t tell you the details, but I assure you Elaine wouldn’t mind me getting to know her sister one bit. In fact, she was talking about her last night—telling me she was the perfect candidate to give us an assist.”

  Cait’s forehead crinkled and her green eyes pinpointed. “Connor Niall Hart. You’re lying to yourself. Look at you. Nadine matters a lot, and I can bet both my boobs and my ass that Elaine isn’t going to like the way things are going down.”

  “Trust me, she won’t mind. Don’t go spreading rumors where there aren’t any.” Connor was digging himself deeper into a hole, but the last thing he needed was Cait’s bloodhound instinct when it came to meddling in her sibling’s business to rile up the family with hopes he’d ditch Elaine. She was his first love, and a family with her was his future. Whatever spell Nadine had put him under was just that, a temporary aberration caused by hormones and his automatic instinct to appreciate desirable women.

  Cait tilted her head to the side and arched an eyebrow. “What kind of assist are you talking about?”

  “You’ll know in due time.” Connor lengthened his stride and turned toward the firehouse. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, even more than being a fireman.”

  “What’s that? Being a no good cheating piece of scum?”

  “No, Cait.” Connor stopped her in her tracks. “It’s being a dad. A good father. That’s what I want for my legacy.”

  “Elaine can’t have children.” The words breathed out of Cait’s mouth before she turned pale. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh no. Is this one of Elaine’s diabolical sche
mes? Because if it is, this one’s worse than the big lie she had Rob tell you to make you break up with her. This one’s going to ruin three lives, no wait, make it four, including the baby.”

  “Please, Cait. Stop with your fear mongering.” Even as he said those words, his heart splintered down the middle. This plan of Elaine’s would hurt Nadine the most—take the free flying bird, break her wings and crush her spirit. Turn her into a tool, a means to an end, a conduit for other people’s happiness.

  There was no way he could ever return the favor to her. No amount of money could soothe her soul. Not when she’d birthed their baby.

  Their baby. Connor stopped at the thought, right in the middle of the street. What would that precious darling look like, feel like, be like?

  They’d had an intimate connection back there in the Love Bean Coffee Shop, and it had nothing to do with Nadine serving as a surrogate for Elaine.

  It had everything to do with the center of his universe being pulled off its axis—from the obsession with Elaine to the completion with Nadine. Which one could be trusted?

  “Connor, snap out of it,” Cait shouted as a car horn blared. She pushed him out of the way of a car pulling out of a parking lot. “You’re totally and completely twitterpated. It’s love, Connor. Not all love is big, grandiose, and pure. You’re lucky if you find that in your lifetime. Love so perfect it hits you over the head like a two by four and leaves you wondering whether you were really alive before meeting her.”

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Connor grumbled at his sister who binge watched romantic comedies while her husband spent most evenings at the fire station playing online video games. “I have that with Elaine already.”

  They’d arrived at the fire station. Connor waved goodbye to his sister, hoping she’d take the hint. “Thanks for bringing Cinder to meet me. I gotta take her for a run now.”

  His sister wisely kept quiet, but he was sure she would run right back home and fink on him.

  He’d better get his story straight. He was committed to Elaine, and he’d have to suck it up. A man stuck to his word, and he could never go back.