Dogwood Hill (A Chesapeake Shores Novel - Book 12)

by Unknown

  Porter didn’t seem the least bit pacified. “The boy was meant to play quarterback,” he said, refusing to back down.

  “Let me ask you this,” Aidan suggested, his tone reasonable. “Would you rather have him develop as a mediocre quarterback who won’t get the attention of a single college scout, or a star receiver who can take his pick of some of the best football programs in the country?”

  Porter finally looked intrigued, as well he should, Liz thought, impressed with Aidan’s argument.

  “You think he can do that?” Porter asked, a noticeable gleam in his eyes.

  “Porter, honey, don’t let him try to sweet-talk you into changing your mind,” Pamela argued. “We know what’s best for our son. Everyone knows it’s the quarterback who gets the money and attention.”

  Liz wanted to step in and remind her of who had the pro football experience and the coach’s job, but she kept quiet, mostly because it was obvious Aidan didn’t need her help. Porter seemed to be wavering at last.

  “I asked you a question,” Porter reminded Aidan, shooting a quelling look at his wife that silenced her.

  “Come by and watch the two of them,” Aidan suggested. “Then you tell me.”

  “I’ll be there Monday afternoon,” Porter said. “I’d better be impressed by what I see.”

  “I think you will be,” Aidan replied.

  “I’m coming with you,” Pamela said, not looking nearly as convinced as her husband. “I want to see for myself what all this hype is about that Santos kid.” She frowned at Aidan. “You’d better hope this is not about some liberal, knee-jerk attempt to play favorites because the boy’s Hispanic and deserves a break he hasn’t earned.”

  Liz spotted a muscle tic in Aidan’s jaw and knew the limits of his diplomatic skills were being sorely tested. She’d held her tongue up to now, but she couldn’t let Pamela’s ill-considered remark slide.

  “I’ve spent a little time with Hector,” she told the couple. “He’s a very nice young man. He’s humble, smart and eager to help the team. So is Taylor. You should be proud of that.”

  Pamela frowned at the suggestion by someone they barely knew that they weren’t taking pride in their son’s willingness to be a team player. “Of course we’re proud of Taylor. We want the best for him.”

  “As all parents want the best for their children,” Aidan said. “My job is to go beyond that and figure out what’s best for the team. Ultimately that will make each of these kids shine, too.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Porter conceded reluctantly, though Pamela still didn’t look satisfied.

  “We’ll be there Monday afternoon,” Porter repeated, almost as if it were meant as a warning. “Come along, Pamela.”

  Just then the maître d’ came to take Liz and Aidan to their table. Only when they were seated did Liz meet Aidan’s gaze.

  “Well, that was fun,” she commented as she took a sip of her water. Her mouth seemed to have gone dry as a result of all that tension. “Is that what it’s been like for you the past couple of weeks? Are you getting pressure from every direction?”

  “To be honest, Porter’s the only one who’s made any kind of a fuss,” Aidan said. “Hopefully, once he sees what those two boys can do on the field, he’ll back off.”

  Liz studied him closely. “Any regrets now about going into coaching? Dealing with Porter would be enough to send me packing.”

  Aidan laughed. “You never met my mom. I think dealing with Porter is some kind of karmic payback for me. I’m pretty sure she came close to driving my high school coach into an early grave. She watched the Giants and the Jets every Sunday, studied them, in fact. She thought she knew everything there was to know about the game and about my ability to play it. I’m surprised she didn’t insist on sitting on the bench and naming herself assistant coach. I keep reminding myself about that whenever I have to deal with Porter.”

  He grinned at her. “Thankfully, by the time I went to college, I’d convinced her to back off.”

  Liz stared at him. “You’re kidding. It took that long? You must have been humiliated.”

  “Not really. I suppose I was embarrassed from time to time, especially when my teammates would get on my case, but I got what she was doing. No kid ever had a bigger advocate than Anna Mitchell. It started when I played in a Pop Warner league and never let up. I think she was determined to fill the role she imagined a father would have filled if my dad had been around. Trust me, there were dads whose behavior was a whole lot more humiliating.”

  “Was it tough?” Liz asked. “Not having your father in your life?”

  An odd expression washed over Aidan’s face, one she couldn’t quite read. There was a hint of sadness, yes, but also something else. Bitterness, maybe. Since he usually seemed so upbeat about his upbringing, it surprised her a little.

  “As a little kid, I had a lot of questions about why I didn’t have a dad around,” he revealed eventually. “Mostly what my mom did was remind me that we were so lucky to have each other.”

  “She never told you about your father, not even when you asked?”

  “She had a standard response, one that painted a rosy picture of an incredible man who simply hadn’t been ready to be a dad. I tried my best to take my cues from her. She didn’t seem to hate him for that, so how could I? Besides, I could see how sad it made her to think that she wasn’t enough for me.”

  “So even as a boy, you were intuitive and kind,” Liz surmised.

  “I loved my mom,” he said simply. “I didn’t want to make her unhappy. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t a saint. I lashed out from time to time and accused her of trying to keep me from my dad. I even threatened to take off and find him, but mostly I kept my questions and my resentment to myself.”

  “That’s very noble. Didn’t you ever want some genetic history or a name?”

  “Sure, and more than once as I got older I thought about digging around and trying to find answers on my own, but I thought about how disrespectful that might seem to her. And I told myself, when it came right down to it, what did it matter? Why would I want to know someone who didn’t care enough about either of us to be in our lives.”

  Liz didn’t entirely buy that he’d been that mature about it. Oh, she believed he loved his mom and hadn’t wanted to distress her, but a teenager’s curiosity about who’d fathered him wasn’t usually pacified by logic.

  She saw Aidan studying her, a faint smile on his lips. “You think I’m glossing over how much this bothered me, don’t you?”

  “Are you?”

  “Okay, I’ve been resentful and bitter at times, no question about it, but I covered that up with my mom. There were times as I got older when I wanted to demand answers, but just when I might have pushed for them, my mom got cancer. After that my whole focus was on trying to support her.” His expression turned sad. “And then it was too late.” He gave her a wry look. “There was no deathbed confession of the truth, in case you’re wondering.”

  “So you still don’t know any more about the man who fathered you?”

  Instead of a direct answer, he gave her a puzzled look. “Why are you so concerned about this? It’s ancient history. My ancient history.”

  Liz was taken aback by his sharp tone. “I guess I was just trying to picture myself in your shoes, having all these huge questions left unanswered.”

  He held her gaze. “I know who I am, Liz. I know the kind of man I am, and it was Anna Mitchell who made me into that man, not some guy who provided sperm.”

  The heated response made her squirm. What had she been thinking, digging into such a private topic and suggesting he’d handled it all wrong? She was the one who’d been putting up walls, and now she was climbing over them herself, trying to turn this into a more intimate relationship than she herself had claimed to want.

  “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I really didn’t mean to upset you. I grew up with my family intact. I had lots of friends whose parents were divorced, but
at least both parents were in their lives to one degree or another. It’s hard for me to picture growing up without ever seeing a parent or knowing anything about the kind of person they are. I guess I was projecting what I imagined my reaction would be onto you.”

  Aidan stared out at the bay, then took a drink of his water before he finally faced her again. “I took my mother at her word, that he was a good man. For most of my life that was enough for me. It had to be.”

  Liz didn’t believe for an instant that he still felt that way, because the shadows in his eyes when he said it told another story entirely. Clearly, though, it was a story he didn’t intend to share with her. And hadn’t she had enough of men with secrets to last a lifetime? It was just one more reminder about the wisdom of keeping Aidan at arm’s length.

  *

  Once dinner came—neither of them had the prime rib—the conversation turned casual and Aidan finally allowed himself to relax. All that talk about his dad had left him jittery and uncomfortable. Sure, he’d had questions, maybe a million of them. He still did, but he was finally in a position to get a few of them answered. He just wasn’t ready to share that information with anyone, not even this woman who seemed to be genuinely concerned about him.

  He glanced across the table, noting the color in Liz’s cheeks, possibly put there by the one glass of wine she’d allowed herself. Strands of blond hair had escaped her topknot to curl carelessly about her face. She looked relaxed and infinitely more approachable than she probably intended.

  “Dessert? Coffee?” he asked, not eager for the night to end, despite those earlier uncomfortable moments.

  She studied the dessert menu, then put it aside with a sigh of regret. “Not for me.”

  He grinned. “You don’t even want to share that chocolate lava cake with me?”

  Her eyes lit up, just as he’d anticipated. He’d learned that women could resist a lot of treats, but that one seemed to call to them. It usually became irresistible after just the tiniest bit of encouragement from him.

  “You promise you’ll eat most of it?” she asked.

  “Promise,” he said solemnly, beckoning for the waiter. When he’d placed the order for the decadent cake and two decaf coffees, he sat back and studied her.

  She was a mass of contradictions tonight. That dress with its revealing neckline sent out one message that contradicted every word she spoke about what she was looking for in her life. Or more specifically, what she didn’t want. Even as she held him almost literally at arm’s length, her demeanor and questions invited him into a more personal relationship. Aidan didn’t know what to make of her. He certainly couldn’t see that they were headed in the direction that was expected by a whole slew of O’Briens.

  And yet there was that undeniable spark of electricity, the one they were both so determinedly ignoring.

  When the waiter returned with the warm cake with its dark chocolate interior and ice cream melting into that fudgy moistness, he watched as Liz dipped her spoon into the gooey concoction, then put it into her mouth, closing her eyes with a moan of pleasure.

  Desire ricocheted through him like a heat-seeking missile. Dessert—at least this particular one with this particular woman—had definitely been a bad idea. It was putting thoughts into his head that had nothing to do with food. That was something that had never happened before. Usually he was content just to observe his date’s enjoyment of something she usually denied herself.

  Liz had eaten several bites before she noticed that he’d had none. “Hey, you promised to eat your share.”

  “It’s more fun watching you savor every spoonful,” he admitted candidly, though he did pick up his spoon and take a tiny bite. The dark chocolate burst on his tongue in all its promised decadence. He could see why it had sent her into raptures. “Not bad.”

  She laughed at the understatement. “I defy you not to take another bite. It’s addictive. Admit it.”

  Aidan put down his spoon to prove a point, but Liz waved hers under his nose. The aroma alone was enough to have his mouth watering. He snagged it from her hand. “Okay, you win. It’s addictive.”

  She sat back, seemingly satisfied with his response. “How on earth will I ever work off all those calories?”

  “Not that you need to worry about that,” he said, “but how about a walk on the deck out back? It looks as if it runs along the waterfront far enough to give us a little bit of a workout.”

  “Perfect,” she said at once.

  “I’ll get the waiter.”

  Aidan paid the bill and held out his hand. After a faint hesitation, Liz slipped hers into his, then followed him outside. She paused long enough to remove her shoes, leaving her barefoot as they strolled side by side.

  “It is so beautiful,” she whispered, pausing to stand by the railing.

  A full moon glistened in a silvery path across the bay. As Aidan stood beside her, he couldn’t seem to keep his gaze off her face. She looked especially soft and radiant in the moonlight. Her pale pink lips were more tempting than any of the decadent desserts on the menu had been, and that was saying something. Even that chocolate lava cake couldn’t compare when it came to pure temptation.

  Before he could resist, he touched her cheek, then leaned down, brushing his mouth across hers. Unsure of his welcome, it began as a gentle, tentative touch. In less time than it took for their breath to mingle, though, it changed into something more, something hot and demanding, as darkly delicious as that chocolate. The air seemed charged with electricity. His blood hadn’t pumped this hard after his five-mile run first thing this morning.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away and looked into her dazed eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “A little stunned,” she admitted. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that.”

  He smiled at her unexpected candor. “So, Miss Liz, you’ve been imagining our first kiss? What was it supposed to be like?”

  “No, of course not,” she claimed, clearly flustered. “I meant it wasn’t supposed to happen at all.” A frown settled on her face. “We can’t do that again, Aidan.” She said it with as much starch as a librarian trying to quiet an unruly patron.

  “Oh, I think we will,” he corrected, convinced that the barriers they’d been putting up had just come crashing down around both of them. Knowing how quickly a fire had flared between them wasn’t something either of them was likely to forget or ignore, no matter how hard they tried.

  She backed up a step, shaking her head. “No. I mean it, Aidan. This just can’t happen.”

  It suddenly registered that she wasn’t just being coy. “Why not? You’re single, right? I thought I heard you were a widow, in fact.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m fair game,” she said with surprising ferocity.

  Aidan was startled by her angry reaction. “Of course not.” He regarded her with worry, fearing he’d crossed some line he’d never even imagined was there. “Liz, what’s going on? If you’re genuinely not interested in anything more than being friends, just say so.”

  “Haven’t I said that more than once?” she asked with real frustration.

  “I’d like to know why, if you’re willing to explain.”

  “Can’t you just accept that’s the way it has to be?” she asked plaintively.

  “If that’s the way it has to be, then of course I can,” he conceded. “But that kiss said something else. I think it would be a shame not to share a few more of those to see where this might lead.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Is this about that one-year deal I signed? You don’t think I’m capable of commitment?”

  “Maybe a little,” she said. “But it’s more than just that.”

  “Please explain. I might be able to put your mind at ease.” A sudden thought struck him. “Is it the tabloids? I know they made me out to be a playboy when I first played professionally, but that was so far from the truth it was laughable.”

  “I don’t follow the tabloids,” she as
sured him. “This is just for the best, Aidan. Let’s leave it at that.”

  He bit back a sigh at her stubborn refusal to explain. He could sense a real fear of some kind behind her reaction, but he was at a loss to interpret it. In the end, though, it was her decision. He had to respect that.

  “Okay, then,” he said quietly. “If you don’t want to pursue this—”

  “I don’t want to pursue it,” she said emphatically, though her voice was shaking. She couldn’t seem to meet his gaze, which suggested she might be lying to him, maybe even to herself.

  Still, Aidan wasn’t about to force the issue. Sometimes people just didn’t click. Given everything else in his life, devoting time to figuring out Liz was probably a lousy idea anyway.

  He dared to touch her cheek again. “Liz, sweetheart, don’t look so miserable. No broken hearts here, okay? We’ll stick to being friends.”

  Her eyes were surprisingly bright as she directed her gaze everywhere but toward him. He realized with a sense of shock that she was close to tears.

  “Thanks for understanding,” she said, still not meeting his gaze as those tears tracked down her cheeks.

  “Sure,” he said. But the truth was, he didn’t understand at all. And he had a hunch he wasn’t going to forget that kiss half as easily as he’d claimed.

  11

  Liz avoided Sally’s the morning after her dinner with Aidan, even though Sunday-morning breakfast there was her favorite. Sally made outstanding waffles with real Vermont maple syrup and served them with bacon that was perfectly crisped. There were usually a few other people there whom she knew, not as many as there might be on a weekday, but enough that she usually had company. The comfort of those waffles and her friends was probably what she needed most. What she didn’t need, though, was a chance encounter with Aidan after that ground-shaking kiss and the downhill evening that had followed.

  Liz kept right on avoiding the café during the next week and the following weekend, even though Shanna, Bree and Heather had all called her on it. They clearly recognized there was something more behind this change in her routine than the flimsy excuses she kept offering. Liz, however, was determinedly not talking. Satisfying their curiosity was not her top priority. Getting her equilibrium back was.