“Okay, the truth is I’d like to have more kids one day. Yes. I’ve always pictured myself with a large family.”
With a defeated-sounding sigh, she started to withdraw, and he slid his hand to the base of her skull to keep her from backing out of his reach.
“But more than that, the idea of having more children scares the hell out of me.”
Her gaze snapped up to his, dark with concern and confusion. “Scares you?”
“The woman I loved died giving me my son. I know, in here—” he pointed to his head “—that it was a fluke thing. I know the chances that something like that would happen again if I had a baby with another woman are low. But in here—” he splayed a hand over his heart “—I’m terrified of losing someone else I care about. It’s been ten years since Katie died, and I still miss her every day. I see her in Patrick, the sacrifice she made to give me my son. That’s what you see in my eyes when I look at my boy. Love for him, but also longing for what could have been…if Katie had lived.”
Tears glistened in Lisa’s eyes. “The children that could have been.”
He drew a deep breath. “Partly. But also sadness for all the events Katie is missing. His first steps, first Little League game…school carnivals. Katie would have been a great mom.”
With a hiccupping sob, Lisa’s face crumpled. “Oh, God.” She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Peter’s gut pitched. He’d known this conversation would be emotional and difficult, but her breakdown wrenched his gut. “Lisa, honey, what is it?”
She peered up at him with a heartbreaking melancholy etched on her face. “I want all that. I want the first steps, the ball games, the PTA. I want a baby so much it hurts. But I can’t. Ever. I had fibroid tumors that necessitated a hysterectomy, so I’ll never have my own children—”
“Aw, honey.” Peter closed the distance between them and reeled her into his arms, pressing her head to his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I won’t pretend I know how much that must hurt.”
“I thought I’d come to terms with it, thought I was doing all right, b-but…” She sniffled and swiped at her damp cheek. “Every day when I go to school and see those young faces in my class, I’m reminded of what I can’t have. And I hurt all over again.”
She tipped her head back and looked up at him, her expression beseeching him to understand. “That’s why I’m getting my PhD in higher education. I love teaching elementary school, but at the same time it’s too painful to continue.”
The grief in her voice stabbed him. Peter’s chest ached as if sharp talons had raked his flesh and sliced open his heart. He could do nothing to ease her pain, and his sense of helplessness chafed his male ego. Tucking her under his chin again, he squeezed her tighter. “I don’t begin to understand why these things happen. It’s not fair.”
Lisa backed from his embrace and narrowed her wet gaze on his. “I’m not looking for answers why. I know life is unpredictable. You have to take the bad with the good. I’ve learned to appreciate my blessings—my family in Texas, my health, my home.” She stroked his cheek. “Friends who care about me. I just want you to understand why getting involved with you would be a mistake for me.”
He dried the moisture on her eyelashes. “Why would it be a mistake?”
She sniffed again and lowered her gaze to her hands. “Being in a relationship would be a lot like teaching elementary school for me. As wonderful as parts of the relationship might be, I’d have a daily reminder of what wasn’t possible. Loving a man would make me ache for the children we wouldn’t have. There’d always be a gulf between us, something missing. You can’t build a future when you start with such a giant hole in the relationship.”
Peter held her gaze, his heart pounding wildly. “Then…we have a problem. Because my feelings for you have already grown past simple friendship.”
A bittersweet surprise, then regret flittered over her face. “Peter…”
He framed her face with his hands. “I know you feel the same connection between us that I do. The same heat. The same pull.” He clenched his teeth and drilled his gaze into hers. “Damn it, Lisa, don’t tell me we can’t try to make this work. Because I don’t think I can stay away.”
She sucked in a sharp breath that hissed between her teeth. “But how—”
“I don’t know how we’ll make it work. I just know we have to try.” He nudged her chin up. “I don’t want to hurt you, honey. I swear I will do everything in my power to make this work somehow.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
He nodded. “I am, too. Putting my heart out there after so many years terrifies me. But I’m in too deep now to do anything else.”
She blinked, and fresh tears escaped onto her cheek. Lifting her hand, she raked fingers through his hair before settling her hand on his neck. “Me, too.”
Lisa leaned forward and brushed her mouth across his. The brief contact shocked his system like a jolt from a taser. His nerve endings crackled and danced, and his muscles tensed.
Hovering scant inches from him, she angled her gaze to his. “I feel like I’m diving into a murky lake on a hot day,” she whispered. Her breaths came quick and light, mingling with his. “I know the water will be cool and refreshing, but I don’t know what hidden dangers wait below the surface.”
He skimmed her lips with his and murmured, “Go ahead and jump, Lisa. I’ll catch you. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Peter.” His name was a sigh as she found his mouth again and kissed him deeply. Desperately. Tenderly.
With one hand cradling her head and his other arm wrapped around her waist, Peter held Lisa close and indulged in the lips he’d been thinking about all day. Heat flashed through him, chasing the chill of past losses from his bones. Lisa’s flesh-and-blood kiss was ten times more potent than his daydreams about the stolen kiss by the school office.
Her lips tasted sweet, like spiced tea and warm seduction. She met the pressure of his mouth with her own fervor. When he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, she opened to him, her contented sigh stoking the fire inside him with promises of future passion.
His body screamed for him to lay her back on the couch and stake his claim to her. But he’d promised not to let her get hurt, and he knew that meant they had to move slowly. His muscles trembled with restraint as he pulled away and finger-combed her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to wait a whole week to see you again.”
Smiling, she tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “What do you propose to do about that?”
He grinned, hearing the breathless quality to her voice. Their kiss had left him feeling winded as well. Stunned. Reeling. “Well…my mom and sisters are meeting Patrick and me for dinner tomorrow at Kelley’s Cookhouse. Why don’t you join us?”
Her eyes widened. “Wow. Meeting the family. Isn’t that usually at least a third-or fourth-date kind of thing?”
Her tone was teasing, but he heard an anxious tension behind it as well.
Nudging up her chin with his thumb, he met her dark-eyed gaze. “I don’t want to pressure you. I promised we’ll take this as slow as you need to.”
Lisa caught her bottom lip with her teeth. “I do love barbecue.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”
She tipped her head and flashed him a lopsided smile. “It is.”
“Good.” Splaying his fingers, he slid his hand to the nape of her neck and nudged her forward. “May I kiss you again?”
“Yes, please.” She leaned into him, angling her head to seal her mouth with his.
When a tremble shook her, he tightened his hold on her and nuzzled her ear. “We’ll figure this out, Lisa. Somehow.”
Her fingers dug into his back, and she sighed sadly. “That’s the same thing my ex-husband promised…a year before he walked out on our marriage.”
Kelley’s Cookhouse, owned and operated by the Kelley family for years, was a Honey Creek institution. Everyone who w
as anyone gathered at the barbecue restaurant at some point during the week to drink a Walsh-brand beer and savor the best smoky ribs and coleslaw west of the Mississippi River. Tonight was no exception. The restaurant, with its dark wood-panel walls and hardwood floors, was packed with Honey Creek residents, family and friends.
Lisa squeezed Peter’s hand tighter, so as not to lose him in the crowd, as he led her to a table near the bar where his sisters, Mary and Lucy, were already seated. Mary bore a striking resemblance to Peter’s mother, whom Lisa had met yesterday at the festival, but Lucy, with her girl-next-door sweetness and brown eyes, looked more like Peter. Next to Mary, with a possessive arm around her, sat a ruggedly handsome blond-haired man Lisa assumed, based on the coaching Peter had given her on the drive over, was Jake Pierson. The chair beside Lucy was conspicuously empty, a situation Patrick quickly remedied, sliding into the ladder-backed chair and giving his aunt a bear hug.
“Evening, folks,” Peter said, as he held out a chair for Lisa. “Everyone, this is Lisa Navarre, Patrick’s teacher. Lisa, this is the motley crew I warned you about in the truck.” He gave Lucy a curious glance. “Where’s Steve?”
Lisa mentally recalled the list of names Peter had supplied on the drive. Lucy was happily involved with a man named Steve Brown.
“He’s caught a nasty cold and didn’t feel like coming out tonight.” She turned to Patrick and wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “But I didn’t want to miss seeing my favorite nephew!”
“I’m your only nephew,” Patrick groaned.
“But you’re still my favorite!”
Lisa turned to Mary, who sat across the table from her. “Peter tells me you and Jake have opened a private security business. How is that going?”
Mary’s smile brightened. “So far so good.”
As the conversation continued with polite small talk and inquiries about each other’s jobs and Lisa’s family in Texas, she noticed Peter’s gaze roaming the faces in the crowd, his expression speculative, guarded.
“Something wrong?” she whispered to him during a brief lull in the conversation when the waitress arrived to deliver drink orders.
“No, I’m just—” He stopped abruptly, and his expression changed. Shadows of suspicion clouded his face, and his stare grew icy. “I stand corrected. Look who just arrived.”
Frowning her concern and curiosity, Lisa pivoted in her chair to glance toward the front door. Darius Colton strode into the main dining room, leading his wife Sharon by the arm. Behind them, Damien, Maisie, Jeremy, Brand and Joan Colton followed, each sweeping the restaurant with gazes ranging from excited, in Jeremy’s case, to hostile, in Damien’s.
Lisa tensed. “Is this a problem? Can’t your family eat in the same restaurant without it leading to World War Three?”
Peter cut a side glance to his family, presumably checking to see if they’d noticed the new arrivals. “Depends. I don’t intend to start anything, but I won’t let a slight pass unchecked either.”
Lisa sighed. “Peter…”
Darius, the patriarch of the clan, gave the room an imperious glance and, spying the Walshes, glared darkly and spoke to the hostess. He aimed a thumb to the opposite side of the dining room, and the hostess glanced toward the Walsh table and nodded.
The message was clear enough. Darius wanted a table far from the Walshes. Darius took his mousy wife by the arm and led her from the door.
Across the table from Lisa, Lucy’s head came up, her gaze darting to the door. She gasped softly, staring at the Colton family. Lisa held her breath, remembering that the youthful infatuation between Damien and Lucy had been a key factor in the families’ feud.
“Lucy?” Peter said, leaning toward his sister. “Do you want to leave?”
His sister sent him a sharp look. “Don’t be silly. I can’t spend the rest of my life ducking and running for cover every time my path crosses his. This is a small town, and we need to figure out how to share it.”
“I know, but—” Peter started, but Lucy caught them all off-guard by rising slightly from her chair, smiling and signaling Damien to come to their table.
Peter frowned. “What are you doing?”
Lucy squared her shoulders. “Making peace with my past so I can move forward.”
At the front door, Damien nodded, grim-faced, but headed their way. When Maisie grabbed his shirt to stop him, he disengaged his sister’s fingers and gave her a push in the opposite direction.
“Damien!” Maisie called after her brother in a panicked voice loud enough to carry through the restaurant.
The din of voices quieted to a murmur as heads swivelled to follow the unfolding drama.
Lisa reached for Peter, who looked ready to jump Damien with the slightest provocation, and wrapped her hand around his wrist. When he met her eyes, she sent him a quelling look.
Damien’s boots scuffed the hardwood floor as he stepped up to their table and cast a dark look to the Walshes.
Chapter 11
D espite Lucy’s warning look, Peter rose to his feet and raised his chin, as if putting Damien on notice. Lisa held her breath, much as she sensed everyone else gathered in the restaurant did.
But when Damien’s gaze landed on Lucy, a flicker of warmth lit his eyes, though his mouth stayed pressed in a firm line. “Lucy.”
Lucy flashed a nervous smile. “Hello, Damien. It’s nice to see you.”
Damien’s brow furrowed, and he grunted. “Right.”
Lucy squared her shoulders, her smile dimming. “It is. I…I never wanted you to suffer because of—”
“Whatever.” His tone was cool, flat. “You wanted something?”
Mary, Jake and Peter exchanged worried looks. Lisa could have cut the tension with a knife. Even Patrick seemed to notice the hostile undercurrent. Sidling closer to Lucy, Patrick eyed the tall, dark-haired stranger looming over their table.
“Just…to say hello.” She cleared her throat, and her fingers trembled as she fidgeted with her silverware. “And I’m sorry about…everything that happened. I—”
“Sorry? You never wrote, never came to see me. Not once,” Damien interrupted. Lisa swore she heard pain laced heavily throughout his hard tone, and her heart broke for the star-crossed high-school sweethearts Damien and Lucy had been.
Lucy dropped her gaze for the first time and drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that, too. I was as hurt and confused about everything as you were, and—”
Damien scoffed. “You think so? I was in prison, Lu. Accused of a murder I didn’t commit. Abandoned by you, by members of my family. You really think you were hurting as much as I was?”
Lisa wondered if anyone else noticed Damien’s use of a nickname for Lucy. That he still thought of her in terms of the intimate pet name spoke volumes to Lisa.
Peter took a step toward Damien. “Look, Colton, if you think—”
“Peter.” Lucy’s firm tone stopped her brother. Shoving her chair back, she circled the end of the table to where Damien stood. When she lightly touched Damien’s arm, he jerked, as if jolted by lightning.
Lisa’s fingers clutched the arm of her chair. She recognized the raw emotion that filled Damien’s face. Bitterness clashed with longing, betrayed love, remorse and regret battled anger and disappointment. When Ray had walked out on their marriage, she’d felt many of the same conflicting feelings that marched across Damien’s face. His jaw tightened, evidence that he was working hard to maintain a stony facade and shove down the rioting feelings.
“I know we can’t change the past,” Lucy said softly. “But I don’t want to be enemies going forward. I won’t ask you to pretend we’re friends again, but can we at least be civil when we meet in town?”
Damien shifted his feet slightly, and the hard line of his jaw relaxed a degree. “That shouldn’t be a problem, seeing as how I’m leaving town.”
Lucy frowned. “Leaving?”
“This town holds too many ghosts. I’m planning on heading down to Nevada.
Maybe starting my own ranch.” He paused and sighed wearily. “I need a fresh start. That’s not possible here in Honey Creek.”
“Oh…” Lucy fumbled. “Well, good luck. I…” She hesitated as if torn what to do next, what to say. Then, taking a deep breath, she grabbed Damien’s hand, rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.
A murmur rolled through the restaurant, and Lisa sensed more than saw Peter stiffen.
“Take care of yourself, Damien,” Lucy said quietly before sinking back on her heels again. When she would have withdrawn her hand, Damien squeezed Lucy’s fingers, drawing her gaze back to his. For several seconds he said nothing, his green eyes boring down on Lucy with an intensity that sent a shiver through Lisa.
“Goodbye, Lu,” he said at last, while still clinging to her hand. His throat worked as he swallowed, before he added a rasped, “and thanks” as he turned quickly and strode away.
Lucy watched him leave, her expression poignant and filled with wistful regret.
Lisa’s heart thudded, touched by the bittersweet goodbye between the former lovers.
The gazes of the other diners followed Damien’s retreat, dividing speculative stares between Lucy and the brooding ex-con Colton. Lisa wanted to shout at the room to mind their own business. She couldn’t imagine being a member of one of the town’s prominent families and having so much attention drawn to her every move. Yet if she started dating Peter, wouldn’t that put her in the gossip limelight? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Peter stepped closer to his sister and touched her arm. “You okay?”
Lucy rallied, flashing Peter a bright smile. “I’m fine. Hey, I’ve got Steve now. And my store, my family. I’m great!” She clapped her hands together as she spun back to the table. “So what are we ordering? I’m starved!”
Peter continued to watch his sister with his brow knitted, so Lisa leaned over to him and put a supportive hand on his arm. “She’s not the vulnerable teenager she was back then, Peter. She’s okay. And I think they both needed that closure.”
P.I. Daddy's Personal Mission Page 14
