“Preston?” she heard, a split second before the dude belonging to the deep voice materialized behind him. And if it hadn’t been for the steely gray eyes, that one stubborn, still untamed curl at his temple, she wouldn’t have recognized Cole Rayburn in a million years.
Behind her own stinging eyes exploded a word she wouldn’t dare say in front of her father.
* * *
“You’ve changed.”
In more ways than you know, Cole thought, hyperaware of Bree’s gaze on his profile as he focused on the kids, playing catch in the backyard with her dad. A steady, dark brown gaze that used to make his stomach turn somersaults a million years ago.
That still could, apparently.
He hadn’t been able to read the emotions that’d streaked across her face when the penny dropped, although he’d caught the What the hell? easily enough.
Same goes, he’d wanted to say.
And for a moment, he’d considered gathering up the kids, getting out. Except the Colonel had given him a Deal with it look that brought an end to that idea. A look that the Colonel probably had been waiting a long time to give. Man had zero tolerance for unresolved issues. Especially involving his children. That the statute of limitations had long since run out on this one was beside the point.
Fiddling with a bottle of tea he didn’t really want, Cole released a breath. “When I realized these kids might need me to stick around past fifty, I decided it was time to get off my butt. Start eating like a human instead of some garbage-munching bacteria.”
“Or a teenage boy?”
“Same thing.”
Her chuckle was subdued. “And the glasses...?”
“LASIK. Got tired of breaking my glasses, can’t tolerate contacts.”
From the yard, they heard her father laugh, the kids responding in kind. Cole wasn’t sure who was blessing whom more. Right now, he didn’t care.
“How old are they?” Sabrina said softly.
“Wesley’s thirteen, Brooke twelve.”
“Wow. You were...young.”
Amazing, how normal their conversation sounded, considering the way they’d left things. “Not that young,” Cole murmured, sitting forward, his hands clamped around the bottle.
He sensed more than saw her take a sip of her own tea. “You with kids. Gonna take a minute to wrap my head around that. So where’ve you been all this time?”
“Philadelphia, mostly.” Cole finally tilted his own bottle to his lips.
“And you’re here now because...?”
“Here, as in Maple River? Or your dad’s house?”
“Either. Both.” At his silence, she added, “You’re the last person I expected to see right now. So color me curious.”
At that, he turned, starting slightly at the flashback—her sitting cross-legged on the cushioned wicker chair, her wavy hair cupping her shoulders. Even the skinny pants and loose top weren’t much different from what she used to wear. But for the first time since he’d encountered her again, Cole got his head out of his butt long enough to see the pain etched in her expression. Masked, to be sure, but definitely there. And far more real than that pity-me shtick she used to pull in high school.
Real or not, however, no way was he going to get sucked in. Not this time. Or ever again. Those big brown eyes be damned. Not to mention all that luggage in the vestibule. Full plate and all that. So whatever was going on with Bree, he didn’t need, or want, to know.
However, since he was on her turf, he supposed an explanation was in order.
His gaze shifted back to the kids, a smile tugging at his mouth when Wes—far more coordinated than Cole had been at that age—caught the ball. “The kids’ mother and I have been divorced since they were babies,” he said quietly. “Up to last week we had shared custody.”
“Last week...?” Her breath hitched. “What happened?”
“The kids asked Erin to choose between them and her...personal life.”
Several beats preceded “And she didn’t choose them?”
The horror in her voice made him smile. As did the softly uttered, but very crude, word that followed when he shook his head.
“I can’t imagine...” She blew out a harsh breath. “Sorry, I don’t even know the woman—or your kids, for that matter—it’s not my place to judge. But still.”
“Yeah.” When Bree didn’t respond, he said, “The thing is, Erin and I... It was a mistake. Plain and simple. And if she hadn’t gotten pregnant...”
“The first time or the second?”
Cole smirked. “We told ourselves it was working by then. We were wrong.” He paused. “It took her a while longer to finally admit motherhood cramped her style.”
At Sabrina’s silence, he turned again to find her watching the kids with an intensity that sent a jolt of awareness through him. Finally she sighed, then said, “So you brought them back here.”
Setting the bottle on a nearby table, Cole stood and walked over to the porch railing, his hands slammed into his jeans pockets. “For the summer, anyway. My folks needed someone to house-sit. And my sister and her family are here. It’ll be good for them, having a break until we figure out what comes next.”
“And you ran into Pop in the Food Lion. Amazing.”
“I think that’s called fate.”
He heard her snort. “So their mother... She simply washed her hands of them?”
“They talk. Text.” He looked at her. “It’s only been a week. And she’s still their mom.”
Her downturned mouth—there was a familiar expression—made it clear what she thought of his assessment before she nodded toward the yard, where her dad was giving Wes pointers on how to throw the ball. “Looks like maybe they’re helping each other.”
“So I didn’t imagine it,” Cole said. “That he’s lonely?”
Her cheeks puffed when she blew out a breath. “The others are around, of course. They get together a lot, he’s hardly neglected. But it’s not the same, from when the house was always filled.”
Cole took another swallow of his tea. “Can’t quite believe he’s selling it.”
“Not sure how hard, though. It’s been on the market for months. And it’s not overpriced, but...”
“He doesn’t really want to leave.”
The kids’ laughter floated over to them from the far end of the yard. Her smile seemed halfhearted. Nothing like the sassy grin he remembered. “Can you blame him?”
Cole thought of all the kids who’d found sanctuary here, temporary or otherwise. Himself included. How Jeanne Noble’s generosity, the Colonel’s strength, still permeated the space. It was a good house, filled with good vibes. Mostly, anyway.
“No, I can’t.” He squinted. “So you don’t mind? That we’re here?”
“Why should I?”
For oh, so many reasons, he thought, then looked away again, annoyed that he was still having trouble staring directly at the girl he’d once loved so hard it’d scared the snot out of him. Sure, those feelings were gone, but the memory of them wasn’t. And his fists clenched underneath his folded arms as the compassion in her eyes threatened to reopen not only newer, not-yet-completely scabbed over wounds, but much older ones he’d thought long since healed.
Then she got up to join him at the railing, and he shut his own eyes against the onslaught—of memories, of her scent, of disappointment and uncertainty and longing. Man, was he messed up, or what...?
“Dad tell you about Matt and Kelly?”
The amusement in her voice brought Cole’s gaze to the side of her face again. “Kelly? McNeil?”
“Yep.”
Back in school, Cole and Sabrina and Kelly had been—in hindsight—a very strange but very loyal triumvirate. Until Kelly moved away their senior year, and everything...changed.
/>
“Matt and Kelly, what?”
“Married, if you can believe it. New baby, even. Well, three months old now. Although she already had two kids from her previous marriage.”
Cole’s head spun. Sure, everyone knew Kelly’d had a crush on Bree’s twin brother, but she’d been too shy to say anything. And Matt...well. Matt was Matt. Focused, one might say. Which was another word for oblivious.
“I don’t... Wow.”
Bree laughed. “Long story. Happy ending. Or beginning, I suppose. They don’t live far. In case you run into them in the supermarket or whatever. But fair warning—they’re ridiculously happy. It can grate, after a while.”
This was said with such love—and obvious pain—Cole felt his gut twist.
“I can imagine.”
A moment passed before she nodded toward the kids. “Tell me about them.”
He got another whiff of her perfume, something far more sultry than the sweet, flowery scent she used to wear. The image of all that luggage piled in the foyer flashed through his brain, the tears shining in her eyes—
“Wes is scary smart,” he said. “Especially in math. There was some talk about letting him skip a year, but I said no. Other kids already think he’s a freak as it is.”
“He gets picked on?”
A world of understanding packed into four words. “Enough.” He hesitated, then said, “Nothing like I was, though. Thank God.”
She flashed him a quick smile, then asked, “And Brooke?”
As usual, his heart softened when he looked at his daughter, tall and blonde and still blessedly shapeless—although for how long was anybody’s guess. No longer a child, nowhere near being a woman...and Cole had no clue what to do with her. Except love her.
“Into dance, art, music. Science. Every bit as smart as Wes. And not even remotely interested in capitalizing on that.”
“Because she’s seen what’s happened to her brother and doesn’t want to go there.”
“Maybe. Whatever. Drives me nuts.”
“Give her time, she’ll get over it.”
Feeling his lips twitch, Cole looked over. “You sure?”
“I did,” she said, then laughed. “About being myself, I mean. Mostly, anyway. But those hormone swarms are a bitch.”
“Yeah. I remember,” he said, and she laughed again, then gave him something close to a side-eye. “They’ll be fine, Rayburn.”
“Why would you say—”
“Because you’re their dad.” Not looking at him, she stuffed her fingers in her front pockets, the lightweight top scrunching over her wrists. “You were a good friend,” she said softly. “A good person. Even if we messed things up—”
She cut herself off when her father appeared at the porch steps, leaning heavily on the bottom post and breathing hard.
“Pop? You okay?”
“Of course I’m okay,” the Colonel said, swatting a hand at his daughter before hauling in another lungful of air. “You guys all keep reminding me I need more exercise, so I got it.” Then to Cole, “You and the kids are welcome to stay for dinner. Easy enough to fire up the grill—”
“Thanks,” Cole said. “But we’re going to my sister’s—”
“Right, right—I forgot.”
At the mention of Diana, Cole saw something flash in Bree’s eyes. The vestiges of fear, most likely. His sister, ten years his senior and Cole’s self-appointed surrogate parent whenever his well-meaning but easily distracted academic parents dropped the ball—which was frequently—could definitely be scary.
“How is Diana?”
“Good. Bored, though, now that her two oldest are in college. Keeps making noises about going back to work. But anyway,” he said as the kids tromped up the porch steps, looking a little flushed but otherwise none the worse for wear, “we should get going.”
“C’n we get something to drink first?” Wes panted out.
“It’s five blocks, you can’t wait?”
The kid pantomimed clutching his throat, as if he’d been on a fifty-mile hike in the desert, and Bree smothered a laugh. Clearly eating it up, Wes grinned, then did his poor puppy dog face. “Man, I would kill for some Gatorade right now.”
“There’s tea and juice in the fridge,” the Colonel said. “Help yourself. Although in my day,” he said, shepherding them back inside, “we made do with drinking from the hose...”
Bree chuckled again as Cole’s phone buzzed—a text from his sister, wondering where they were. “You really shouldn’t encourage him,” he said, pocketing the phone.
“Pop?”
“No. Wes. Kid’s a master manipulator.”
“Yeah, I seem to remember somebody else like that.” She shoved her hair behind her ear. Flashed a smile. “This was nice, catching up.”
“Sure.”
Her eyes shadowed for a moment. “So...I’ll be seeing you guys again?”
“Maybe.” Because if he said no, then he’d have to explain why. And frankly, he wasn’t sure he could. “How long are you staying?”
Although her smile stayed put, the shadow darkened. “Not sure—”
“Dad!” Brooke burst back on to the porch, holding out her phone. “Aunt Di says if we don’t get over there right now—”
“You guys go on, tell her we’re on our way.”
But when he turned back around, Bree had wandered out into the yard to sit on one of the swings on the old play set, looking like the world’s most lost little girl as she stared off into space.
And Cole stood there far longer than he should have, watching her.
Full plate, he reminded himself, then turned to leave, telling himself the image would fade.
Eventually.
Chapter Two
Her underwear dumped into the top drawer of her old dresser, Sabrina shoved it closed and sighed, missing Mom—who would have been right there with her, if not tucking things into drawers and hanging up stuff in the closet, at least sitting on the foot of the bed, listening, eyes soft with sympathy or bright with anger. Honestly—Sabrina zipped up the empty case and rammed it underneath the twin bed—more and more, her life felt like some artsy foreign film where bizarre crap kept happening but you had no idea why. And a happy ending was not a given. Chad used to drag her to those. And she’d go and pretend to enjoy them for his sake, but mostly she was just Huh?
Take the past twenty-four hours, for instance. As if having her future ripped from her in the space of a single conversation wasn’t bad enough, then to run into Cole Rayburn, of all people. After which they’d had this perfectly normal, totally weird conversation, as though nothing had happened.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. There’d definitely been some heavy-duty skirting of the truth going on. Some people might call that civilized and mature. Because it was ancient history and all that. Except...this was Cole and her.
For whatever that was worth.
Which would be not a whole lot, Sabrina thought, starting downstairs. Dude obviously had his hands full. And, yes, that was her heart squeezing inside her chest, especially when she thought about his kids...
She released another breath. Only so much multitasking her poor brain could handle right now.
Through the open patio door, the scent of charbroiled meat floated in from the deck where Pop was grilling. Stalling, she got a diet soda out of the French-door fridge in the recently remodeled kitchen, all stainless steel and sparkly white quartz and cherrywood cabinets. Very pretty. Still, she missed the homeyness of the old seventies decor, the knotty pine and faux brick, the old gouged table where they’d eaten, done homework, spilled their guts to Mom. Even the kids who’d only been passing through.
The family room, however, she thought, popping the can’s tab as she peeked in the room, still bore the sc
ars of having been a family room in every sense of the word. Probably one reason why the house was still on the market. The kitchen showed well, sure, but the rest of the house...not so much. Especially to buyers with no desire to take on a fixer-upper, even if most of the work was cosmetic. True, Pop had impulsively donated Mom’s vast, and eclectic, book collection to the library some months before. But since he hadn’t moved any further in that direction, Sabrina could only assume—since they’d never discussed it—that the action had paralyzed him instead of propelling him forward.
She tilted the can to her lips, remembering the beehive of activity this house had once been, of noisy meals and fights for the bathroom and never-ending chore lists, usually overseen by the man currently grilling their dinner. Now only an eerie stillness remained, a thousand memories whispering like ghosts every time Sabrina returned. For all she’d chomped at the bit to escape more than a decade before, seeing it this way—like a dying person halfway between this world and the next—made her very sad.
Sadder, anyway.
The can clutched to her chest, she finally went outside, smiling for her father.
“Smells great.”
Standing at the grill, Pop glanced over, then said, “All unpacked?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Good,” he said, not looking at her, and her eyes filled. Because all she wanted, she realized, was a hug.
Dumb.
She’d wondered sometimes, how, with their polar opposite natures, her parents had ever gotten together. Let alone enjoyed the kind of marriage that textbooks could point to and say, This. Mom had been the one who’d wrap Sabrina in her warm embrace, doing all the talking for both of them during those first few weeks after she and Matt had arrived and Sabrina wouldn’t, or couldn’t, find her words. The Colonel, however, hadn’t seemed to know what to do with the frightened little girl clinging to her grief like a tattered teddy bear. Oh, Sabrina eventually figured out that, despite his more reserved nature, Pop cared fiercely about every child in his care, that fostering had been his idea. There was no better man on earth. But sometimes Sabrina felt as if their initial interaction—or lack of one—had set the tone for their entire relationship.
Meant-to-Be Mom Page 2
