by Zoe York
She whimpered. Was she cold? Maybe she needed a romper with legs. Was there such a thing? Never mind, he would feed her the bottle first. Then, he would call for backup.
He grabbed the bottle and settled with her on the couch. The moment he placed the bottle in her mouth, Mollie sucked with ravenous intent. Was there anything in her face that looked like him? She was a particularly pretty baby with dimples on either side of her mouth and ears close to her head. Not his ears, thankfully. He’d had ears that stuck out when he was a kid. Finally, around fifteen, his ugly mug grew into them.
Katy Theisen. He knew at the time it was wrong to sleep with her. She was an innocent, sweet and guileless. No match for his wicked charm. He knew it then and he knew it now. Like the broken condom, she was out of his normal mode of operation. His women, and yes, there were a lot of them, were female versions of himself. Sex was a game of fun. Physical connection only. No emotional intimacy allowed behind closed doors or anywhere else. Occasionally he made a mistake and misread a woman’s capacity for casual sex. Those were the times he got himself into trouble.
But that wasn’t the situation with Katy. It was the damn anniversary of the car accident that had made him vulnerable.
The day came around once a year, like a dark holiday. He anticipated the date for weeks beforehand, dreading his inevitable collapse into despair. Over thirteen years had passed since that day, but the memories were as easily refreshed as a drink in Zane’s bar. That night, nine months ago, they’d been brisk and relentless. To escape them, he’d taken a long run. Not even exercise or loud country music through his headphones could chase them from his mind. After his run, instead of collapsing into bed like he usually did after a day of work and punishing exercise, he got into the shower and scrubbed his skin raw. No relief. Without a plan other than to find a numbing mechanism, he wandered out of the hotel and into a little rundown, depressing bar that matched his mood and his memories.
Katy had been behind the bar. He hadn’t noticed her, too troubled to engage in his usual flirtatious antics with any attractive woman within the vicinity. She’d poured him a tumbler of the best scotch she had. After a few drinks, she’d started asking him questions. What was he doing in town? Why was he out alone? He’d started answering. Somehow, he couldn’t say precisely how, Katy had gotten him to talk about his sister. With lovely blue eyes and a sympathetic mouth and a way of cocking her head to the side when she listened, she dragged the past out of him like a magician pulled a never-ending scarf from his sleeve. Each time she tugged, a new aspect of the story slipped out of him.
He’d told her the whole sordid tale. That had surprised him most of all. Not even the Dogs knew the story of the one event that molded every single aspect of his adult personality. No one in his current life even knew he had siblings.
No one knew the story of Pig and the Miller Brothers either. He’d never shared it with another human being after he drove away from the little Oregon town where it had all unfolded. Until Katy. He cringed now, remembering how he’d cried. Too many drinks and a sympathetic woman had unhinged him. And guilt. Don’t forget guilt.
Katy had reminded him of Sheri from back home. Sheri Swanson with her kind heart and beautiful face. Gone too soon. That had been the title of the newspaper article when she’d died at fifteen. If he’d written the article he would have described her kindness, her utter intolerance to cruelty of any kind. Even to Pig. She’d been the only one who had been kind to him. Everyone hated Pig. They tortured him and taunted him. Not Sheri.
Katy didn’t know that Kyle. She had seen him as he was now—muscular, charming, rich. She’d seen him around town, she’d said. There’s something about a man in a suit.
They’d had sex. No doubt about that. Even as drunk as he’d been, he remembered her little apartment and the water stain on the ceiling above her bed. She’d told him this wasn’t the type of thing she did—bringing home a man she didn’t know. He would have liked to have said the same, but he didn’t lie to women. Yes, he slept with a lot of them, but he never lied, and he never promised anything he couldn’t deliver.
The sex had been sweet. Shy and inexperienced, she’d evoked a strangely protective feeling in him. When he realized the condom had broken, he’d hoped like hell she was on the pill. She fell asleep afterward, curled up like a child. He’d slipped out, hungover and ashamed. He’d taken advantage of a nice girl who was way too young for him and way too accommodating.
What the hell was he going to do now? He needed one of the women in his circle to come over and help him figure out what to do. Three of the Dogs were in steady relationships with women. His first thought was Brody’s wife, Kara. She was a nurse. No question she’d know what to do with a baby. That said, he wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing all this with her just yet. He didn’t know her well and she would probably be horrified that he had a baby from a one-night stand. It couldn’t be Maggie, Jackson’s wife, even though she was more compassionate than anyone in the world. She was on her way home from the city after an interview on a local television station. That left Zane’s fiancée, Honor. She was clearly the best choice. He needed someone who could help him sort out what to do and no one could figure a way out of a pickle better than Honor. Plus, she wouldn’t judge him. Or would she? It didn’t matter, really, because eventually he was going to have to tell everyone that instant fatherhood had been thrust upon him.
How did one use the phone while feeding a baby? He was stuck on the couch with baby pee soaking deeper into the carpet. There was nothing to do but let her finish and then he’d call Honor. No, first he’d call someone to clean up the pee and get rid of that heinous smelling diaper.
When Mollie Blue was done, she stared up at him with glazed blue eyes. Was he supposed to burp her? How was that done exactly? He’d seen women do it before. He lifted the baby up to his shoulder and patted her back. Not long after the fourth tap, a large burp erupted from her tiny body. Afterward, she snuggled into his shoulder and stopped squirming. She’d fallen asleep. Thank the good lord. He breathed in the scent of her head and closed his eyes. He’d never smelled anything better in his entire life.
Smells. The bane of his existence.
Pig. The taunts of his childhood echoed through his mind.
Take care of Mollie. Don’t think of the past. Not now.
He gingerly positioned her back in the stroller, figuring that was the closest thing he had to a crib. His hands shook when he punched in Honor’s number. She answered on the second ring. “Hey dummy. What’s up?”
“I have a little situation.”
“What you’d do, get someone pregnant?”
His mouth dropped open.
“Kyle? Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here. I need you to come over to the resort. I’m staying in the penthouse this week.” He cleared his throat. “It’s urgent.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’ll explain when you get here.”
“I’m at Brody’s finishing up some work, but I can be there in ten minutes.” Honor was Brody’s manager and often worked from the office at his home. Brody was away in San Francisco for the football season and only came home occasionally.
After they hung up, he moved over to the bank of windows that looked out to the small town of Cliffside Bay. By design, the top floor of his resort looked out to the ocean. Today it reflected the ash-colored sky. Fall had come suddenly at the end of September. Now, just days into October, shades of gray replaced nuanced hues of blue. The landscape here reminded him of an independent woman. An expensive view was of no consequence to her. She approached and retreated as she wished, regardless of where you ranked in the human order of things. Rich or poor, young or old— no title or status were of any use to her. If she wanted to hide beneath a sheath of fog, she would. If she wanted to drown you in the powerful forces of her riptides, there was nothing to be done but succumb.
The main street of town was quiet today. Tourist season ended after L
abor Day, leaving the sleepy town to doze. His new resort had opened several weeks ago. So far, the weekends were full, but during the week most rooms remained vacant. He wasn’t worried. The winter would be sluggish, but by spring every room would be booked. For the first time in the history of Cliffside Bay, there would be a place for tourists to stay. Someday he would build a house on the piece of property outside of town that he shared with Jackson. For now, he’d been content to make hotels or his friends’ homes his home. No need to commit to one place given his travel schedule. Up until now, that is. A baby changed everything.
What was he supposed to do with Mollie? He had multiple projects going, including a new shopping mall in a suburb up north. His calendar was packed with travel and meetings. A baby. He wasn’t a family guy. Nothing about him, neither his past nor his present, would give him a chance in hell of being a good father.
A knock on the door startled him. It was one of the housekeepers to clean the soiled rug. After he pointed it out, she dropped to the floor with a spray and a rag without comment. The staff knew better than to ask what in the name of God a baby was doing in his room. The boss was the boss.
No sooner had the maid left than Honor arrived. He put his finger to his lips before he allowed her inside the room. “I have a little situation.”
“So you said. What’s up?”
He gestured toward the stroller. “This.”
Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands. “What the what?” she asked through her fingers.
As quickly as he could, he told her of Mollie’s arrival. Then, he handed her the DNA test and the birth certificate. “So, there’s no question she’s mine.”
“Holy crap, this is a situation. A major situation.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
She placed her hands together under her chin. “Tell me what you’ve done so far.”
“I changed her diaper and fed her. By the way, no one should have to see what I just saw. She sucked down the only bottle of formula and I don’t know what to feed her if she wakes up.”
“Formula. You have to get more formula.”
“Okay. Where does one get that?”
“The store will have it. It comes in a powder. You just mix it up with water.”
“How do you know that?”
“Everyone knows that.”
“I most definitely do not know that,” he said.
“It’s fine. That’s not the problem here.”
“No kidding.”
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“The condom broke.”
“Oh, Kyle. This is bad. Very bad.”
“I know.” He covered his face with his hands and sank onto the couch. “Jesus, what am I going to do?”
Honor sat across from him on the coffee table and placed her hands in the long strands of her blond hair. He’d never known what the term intelligent eyes had meant until he met Honor. “We need a plan.”
“Yes, a plan. A plan’s always good,” he said.
“First things first. We’ll send one of your staff out for supplies to get us through the next few days, but bottom line—you have to hire a nanny.”
“A nanny. Right. And where do we find one of those?” Not the same place as the formula. He knew that much.
“We’ll ask Nora to help us.”
“Great idea,” he said. Nora ran a small placement agency out of her home. She had the resumes of most residents of Cliffside Bay in her database. In fact, she’d helped his manager staff the entire resort. “Yes, Nora will know someone.”
“Until then, we need to get Violet over here,” Honor said.
“Violet Ellis?” His mouth twisted like it did when he bit into a grapefruit. “I hate that woman.”
“I know. However, you’re going to have to put that aside for now. She’s the only one who knows how to take care of a baby.”
Violet Ellis was his arch enemy. With her chocolate brown eyes and silky caramel skin and her rock-hard yoga body, she looked like an angel. However, she worked like the devil to make his life miserable, including picketing the building of this very resort during its construction. He hated to admit it, but Honor was right. Violet would know how to take care of a baby because she was a single mother to three-year-old Dakota.
“She’s not going to help me. Violet despises me.” Just saying her name made him want to spit.
“She won’t be able to say no to a baby.” Honor moved to the stroller and peered down at Mollie. “What a doll.” The tremor in Honor’s voice betrayed her. A full hysterectomy at eighteen meant she would never have a baby of her own. Although she and Zane had adopted six-year-old Jubie, he suspected she wanted a baby of her own. Shame and self-hatred coursed through him. Why should he get a baby when poor Honor and Zane pined for one? I suck. Pig.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Honor said, looking over at him. “Don’t feel bad. I’ve accepted that I can’t have one of my own. We’ll figure out a way to have a baby. You don’t have to apologize for having one.”
“But I don’t deserve her and we both know I’m not qualified to take care of her.”
“Do you want to put her up for adoption?”
A tunnel of blackness blighted his vision. Images floated through the tunnel of his own lonely childhood. His father passed out on the couch with his arm slung over his eyes. The red dress his mother wore the day she left them. His sister’s mangled body on the highway. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m keeping her. When I look at her I get this feeling in my stomach.”
“It feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before, right?” Honor asked.
“Something warm and soothing but that stings at the same time.”
“That’s parental love. I felt it with Jubie right away, even though she was six when she came to us. Once you feel that, it’s all over.”
“I had such a bad childhood.” He paused, swallowing the tremor that had crept into his voice. “What if I can’t do this?”
“You can do it,” Honor said. “It’ll be the hardest and easiest thing you’ve ever done. Trust me.”
He sighed, resigned to his fate. Violet Ellis would have to come to his temporary home and help him with his very permanent daughter. “Call Violet.”
“I’ll call Violet.”
“Just until Nora can find someone else,” he said.
“It’s good timing, actually. Violet’s parents are coming back from South America and want their house back. She doesn’t have a new place, so she’d planned to stay with Kara and Brody. She could stay here with you instead.”
“Why can’t she stay with her parents until she finds a house?”
“Her dad didn’t know she and Dakota were living there. Apparently, he doesn’t approve of her having a baby out of wedlock.”
“Does he think it’s 1952?”
“I guess so.” She dismissed the topic with a jerk of her hand. “Anyway, she’ll have to bring Dakota with her.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll make the call.”
Chapter 2
Violet
* * *
VOILET ELLIS’S BLOUSE stuck to her hot, damp skin. She couldn’t find her car keys. Her son’s church preschool closed in exactly four minutes. The teachers chastised parents if they were even thirty seconds late. For Christians, they were not especially forgiving of human failures. Last time she was late, the elderly Mrs. Knight had shaken her knobby finger right in Violet’s face and given a terse lecture about teaching children responsibility through one’s own example.
She never used to be late for anything. Her life used to be in perfect order: five minutes early to appointments, bills paid on time, house neat and orderly, clothes folded into perfect squares. She was a yoga teacher, for heaven’s sake. Sweating on a cool autumn day while madly searching for lost keys did not suit her. But the past few months of failure and humiliation had ripped through the fabric of her very existence. Her calm demeanor had eroded into
a hot mess.
She yanked open drawers. This was an exercise in futility if there ever was one. The keys couldn’t have magically jumped into one of them. Even in her current state of dishevelment, she wouldn’t put keys into a drawer in which they didn’t belong. Then, where were they? She dumped the contents of her purse onto the counter. A pack of gum, hairbrush, cell phone, wallet, hair tie, and lipstick tumbled onto the bare counter. Nothing unusual, other than the fact her keys were not in there.
Fighting tears of frustration, she circled the kitchen. A shiny object glistened on the windowsill by the breakfast nook. The keys. How in the name of God had they gotten there? There were no pets to blame and Dakota had been at preschool all morning. She grabbed the keys and ran out the door. Exactly two minutes to get down the hill and to the church by five o’clock. It was a physical impossibility.
Violet’s hands dampened the steering wheel as she turned out of her parents’ driveway and onto the narrow road that headed down the hill. A drop of sweat dribbled between her breasts. She hated this quality about herself—this apologetic and nervous attitude when confronted with authority figures. Who cared if cranky Mrs. Knight was annoyed at her? Violet certainly did enough volunteer work for the preschool and the church to be given a late pass occasionally.
This character flaw explained every single bad decision she’d ever made. When given a choice, she always succumbed to authority. Her father’s hypercritical parenting had made her desperate to please. Not that it mattered. Whatever she did wasn’t good enough for him.
The parking lot of the church was empty. Fantastic, that meant she was the only late parent. How were the other mothers so perfect?
A drizzle dampened her overheated face as she sprinted into the building. Mrs. Knight and Dakota sat outside the classroom on the naughty bench. The children were sent there to think about how to make better choices. Violet thought that was such a stupid expression. Choices. They were preschoolers, not taxpaying adults.
