Butterfly Ops

by Jen Doyle

  Honestly? Since it didn’t appear she was going to be able to talk him out of going out on this op, she didn’t care what the explanation was. She just hoped it didn’t come with an expiration date.

  Ian let out a laugh, although one with no humor in it. “If that’s how you react to fun, then I don’t think I want to see what no fun looks like.”

  She smiled at his joke. Or, at least, attempted to. Because the part that made it so unsettling was how clear it had become to her that they planned for the day it would all go away. The training they’d given their team included a whole other dimension: strategy, patience, and an awareness of every single thing every single other person could or couldn’t contribute in any particular situation. Not that ZSJ didn’t do the same—they did. It was just that in ZSJ’s case, they all had some kind of super-power of their own. And over the course of the afternoon it had become clear to her how much Ian and Matt had to overcome in order to survive every day; how much preparation they’d put into fighting things that were stronger and faster.

  Again, that was a Good Thing, Martha Stewart-like capital letters and all. But she was built to protect the people she loved. After Rob died, Morgan was the only full-human Lyndsey allowed herself to love all-out—and Morgan was more than happy to keep herself behind leaded locked doors when the situation was called for. If there’d been a victim profile calling her name, Morgan would have been on the first plane in the other direction, happy to stay away until Lyndsey said it was okay to come home.

  Ian clearly didn’t feel the same and she had no idea how to handle that. “I… I want to keep you safe.”

  She knew she’d said the wrong thing the second she said it so she shouldn’t have been surprised when he tensed and pulled away. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m…”

  Scared. Terrified. At the thought of something happening to him. Finding out he had died the first time around had been devastating—and that was after being apart for over five years. After knowing he’d moved on.

  Now? After spending this last week with him? After knowing he’d loved her all along?

  And knowing it was all because of the mistakes she’d made… That her life would have been entirely different if she’d trusted him. If she’d given him enough benefit of the doubt to let him explain.

  Her eyes went down to the ground. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “If I had—”

  “Don’t,” he said gruffly, catching on quickly and cutting her off. “Just…” He stopped, pulling her out of the path of the people on the sidewalk and against a wall where they were out of the way. “No ‘if’s.’ Just… Let’s just focus on this. On…” He paused again, seemingly struggling with his own control. “On this, okay?”

  On the thing she wanted so much it scared her even more? Lyndsey looked away. “Okay.” She forced herself to smile. “Fun. Like I said.”

  He laughed, obviously deciding not to push it. Then his eyes lost their sparkle and his voice got low and gravelly. “It will be. I promise.”

  If only she believed promises like that could be kept. She made every attempt to give him a real smile in response. And it was so clearly time to change the subject. “I’ll hold you to that. Starting with tonight.”

  “Tonight?” he asked, the sparkle back. “As in dinner with my parents?”

  “As in exactly that,” she said. “I don’t do so well with parents.” And she wasn’t even going to mention she’d already written off his kids as a lost cause.

  He smiled again as he took her hand and they started walking again. “Seriously?” He shook his head. “I don’t buy that. Even Nick’s?”

  Especially Nick’s. “They never really liked me,” she said, shrugging off the memory from the night he’d been turned—because of her. “And Zachary’s parents have been dead for like a thousand years, so, um…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what she’d just said—and that Ian had come to a dead stop next to her.

  Eyebrows raised, he looked at her. Then with a sharp laugh he shook his head. “What a life we lead.”

  Yes. Exactly. Which was why she had to focus on the here and now, not the unknown future they had in front of them. Because even if things went badly and they didn’t get a happier ending than the one they’d already had, this time with him was still a gift. To be with a man who wasn’t thrown by a statement like that; who wasn’t thrown by who she was or what she could do.

  “I love you,” she said before she could think better of it.

  His hand went to her chin; he tipped her head back up. He didn’t smile, didn’t in any way try to pretend he’d been about to say it and she just beat him to the punch or something lame like that. Instead, he looked down at her and then, as though the look in her eyes had confirmed his suspicions, bent down and smiled as his lips brushed hers. “Just this,” he murmured. Then he kissed her again, his hand going to the small of her back, pulling her to him, and taking hold of her in a way that had nothing to do with the grip with which he held her.

  With someone else it might have been a brush-off. But the look he gave her—eyes dark with desire and, yes, a little bit of regret on his part, too—sent a shiver through her. Reassuringly so.

  Already too far down that path to pretend otherwise, Lyndsey didn’t try to backtrack; she started walking again and changed the subject. “Do your kids ever ask about what you do?”

  “Not really.” He shook his head. “I tell them my job is mostly strategic planning and analysis. Once I start throwing words around like that, their eyes glaze over.”

  They’d passed through the grounds of the State House and were now on his street. He took out his keys as they approached it. “Home sweet home.” When they got to the end of the street he stopped and gave her a searching look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine,” she said quickly, looking up at the house—the part that was showing behind the wall, at least—and then back at him. He was nice enough not to call her on the complete terror she was sure was clearly shining in her eyes; instead, he lifted her up to sit on the stone column that sat a few feet away from the gate—the one that came up to his waist and was old enough to still have an iron ring on it for hooking up horses.

  “So did I tell you,” he was saying, “that my mom is already completely in love with you?”

  Lyndsey’s head jerked up. “What?” That made no sense whatsoever. Sure, they’d had the chance to meet the week before and the woman had been lovely. But how could she not blame Lyndsey for the downward spiral that almost killed her son?

  Clearly ignoring the shock in Lyndsey’s voice, Ian nodded. “You’ll have to watch out. You’ll probably be getting some serious how-long-before-I-can-start-pressuring-them-to-get-married vibes.”

  Much better than the evil eye, Lyndsey supposed, although she did have to admit Mary had been nothing but warm and welcoming the other day when they’d been introduced. “And the kids?”

  “They’ll be curious,” Ian said. “Kate might be a little on the touchy side, but otherwise they’ll be good.”

  Okay. Kate, Lyndsey could handle, even if she was the one most likely to breathe fire at even just the idea of another woman in her father’s life. Only figuratively, but still.

  “And don’t forget,” Ian said, “Sarah will be there, too.” Sarah being Matt’s wife and a wonderful person who, unlike Matt, didn’t seem to have harbored any deep-seated hatred for Lyndsey for all these years.

  Sigh. So maybe that was a bit over-dramatic, especially since she and Matt had called a truce a long time ago. It was an uneasy one, however, enough so that Lyndsey was glad Ian and Tommy would also be staffing the command post at Atikokan. Having to go toe-to-toe with Matt by his lonesome wasn’t Lyndsey’s favorite thing.

  So, yes, having met Sarah last week and falling into a major girl crush on the woman had been a surprise indeed. Plus, with Morgan and her fiancé, Eddie, at tonight’s dinner, there would be at least two people who had her back.

  Ian’s hand went to Lyndsey�
�s jaw. Threading his fingers through her hair, Ian tilted her head up and kissed her. “Better?”

  Lyndsey took hold of his wrist and leaned into his hand. “Maybe if I had another one of those—”

  Kisses, she would have said if she hadn’t been silenced by his mouth on hers.

  Oh, this was a mistake, especially after spending the last few hours getting hot and bothered by all that sparring. She wanted so much more and there was no way—

  “I want you tonight,” he whispered, his lips at her ear. “In my bed.”

  “In… Here?” She pulled away. “But you said…” Explicitly said not in his house, especially not when his kids were home.

  “I know. I changed my mind,” he unexpectedly replied.

  She smiled and put her arms around his neck. “What time do they go to bed?”

  “Not soon enough.” He leaned in to kiss her again; stopped almost immediately and looked up. “Hi, Dad.”

  Lyndsey’s arms dropped to her sides as she turned and saw Ian, thirty years older—handsome, but with gray hair, leathery skin and rough hands. Her impressions of him were over sixteen years old, a result of the various things Ian had told her—a solid, stalwart man who had raised his sons right. Not someone who would take kindly to seeing one of them making out on the front steps with his girlfriend, especially if that girlfriend happened to be someone who hadn’t treated his son so great back in the day. And yet there was something about the man—something so kind that she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Mr. Fox,” she said, more timidly than any self-respecting girl with super powers should. She jumped down to the ground.

  He reached out to shake her hand. “I’m assuming you’re the Ms. Daniels I’ve been hearing so much about.”

  “Lyndsey. Please.”

  “Well, Lyndsey, I’m Gavin.” He grinned as he looked back and forth between them. “Were you two planning on going in anytime soon? Or should I just pretend I didn’t see you out here?”

  “Uh, no,” Ian replied, blushing adorably as he glanced self-consciously at Lyndsey. “We’re going in.” He nodded towards the bag in his father’s hand. “Mom sent you out shopping?”

  “Blueberries.” Gavin held up the bag as they started up the driveway. “Your mother suddenly decided there wasn’t quite enough on the menu and she needed to add cobbler to the list. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  Ian opened the gate and gestured for the others to go inside. “Mom’s blueberry cobbler is not to be missed.”

  His father led the way across the garden and then into the house and to the kitchen where Mary was standing. He handed her the bag. “Here you go. Freshest blueberries on Beacon Hill.”

  “Hi, Mom.” Ian also crossed the room; kissed his mother on the forehead. “It smells great in here. You need any help?”

  Though Mary smiled, she barely looked up from what she was doing. “Someone needs to start the grill. And help your father get the drinks upstairs.”

  As he picked up a case of beer, Ian said, “Remind me again why we’re doing this up on the roof deck when we have a perfectly good backyard off the kitchen—not to mention a whole entire stretch of patio in front?”

  Rolling her eyes, Mary said, “That’s not a yard, those are the gardens. And the patio…” She just shook her head. “Now if we were having a reception of some sort…”

  “Right,” Ian said, laughing. “What was I thinking?”

  Was that the wedding talk Ian was worried about? Gavin either didn’t get the subtext or chose to ignore it. To Lyndsey, he said, “Mary would much rather have a wide open lawn, but the gardens have been here since this house was built and the neighborhood folks wouldn’t take too kindly to us taking them out.”

  Mary smiled at her husband. “The truth is Gavin would be the first one with the pitchfork to run me down.”

  Grabbing a few bags of ice, Ian said with obvious pride, “Dad was a History professor back home, but my grandparents were farmers and it’s in his blood. He’s spent the last few years recreating the original plans for the garden with someone down at Monticello—”

  “The Thomas Jefferson Center for Historic Plants,” Gavin clarified.

  Ian hoisted the cases to his shoulders. Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows; he was clearly amused. “Some of our daisies are apparently a direct gift from Jefferson himself.”

  “Really.” Lyndsey would have been entirely intimidated by that—the house was the one Abby had grown up in, and of course she would have flowers from a founding father of the United States of America; the woman was seriously intimidating, even in memory—but Lyndsey was so taken by the teasing and yet obviously loving exchange between Ian and his parents that she almost forgot. Almost.

  “So was the Larkspur,” Gavin said as Ian nudged him out of the kitchen. Looking back at Lyndsey, he added, “Wait ‘til you taste the cucumbers in tonight’s salad. Originally cultivated by...” His voice faded as Ian urged him up the stairs.

  “Lyndsey, dear,” Mary said, “could you get the blueberries started?” She shook her head. “Once Gavin gets started on his vegetables, it’s hard to get him to focus on anything else.” In an overly loud voice she added, “And Liam was supposed to help but he seems to be caught up at the moment.”

  A boy—Liam, presumably, Ian’s eleven-year-old son—was just walking into the kitchen from the hallway, phone glued to his ear. He did an about face as Mary said his name and waved as he left the kitchen.

  “Um, sure.” Lyndsey took the recipe card Mary handed her. “Sugar?”

  Her hands occupied shelling shrimp and dropping them into a marinade, Mary nodded at some canisters on a shelf under the counter. “There’s a pot in the cabinet next to the stove that you can use … Yep, that’s the one.”

  Lyndsey busied herself measuring and pouring, not quite sure what to say to this woman now that they were alone together. Thankfully, Mary started making small talk and within a few minutes, Liam had returned to the kitchen and was receiving his own orders about the cobbler part of the cobbler. Of course, Liam intimidated Lyndsey, too. Now that she had been introduced to Ian’s dad, he was the only one of the family she hadn’t officially met.

  As covertly as possible, she watched Liam gather the ingredients per his grandmother’s instructions. He had the same easy smile as Ian and Ian’s dad, except that his was still full of innocence. How odd to be seeing Ian at eleven when only moments before she’d seen him at sixty-five.

  “Lyndsey,” Mary said. “Have you and Liam met? It just occurred to me you might not have.”

  “No,” Lyndsey answered. “Hi, Liam.”

  “Hi,” Liam replied shyly.

  Before she could think of something to say to break the silence, she was saved by the noisy arrival of the rest of the kids who were walking in with Matt, Sarah, and their two sons. Chaos ensued as Lyndsey was introduced to the younger Lee son and the kids clamored on about a sailing lesson they’d all had as part of a summer camp field trip.

  “You should have seen it, Grandma!” Annie was saying. “Kate almost ran us into one of the Duck Boats! The captain had to grab the wheel so we didn’t crash.”

  “We weren’t that close,” Kate protested as Ian and Gavin came back downstairs. “We would have been fine.”

  Stirring the blueberry mixture she had concocted, Lyndsey found herself unexpectedly comforted by the craziness in the kitchen—craziness happening around her but not in a bad way. Instead it felt as though someone had put an old, comfy quilt over her to keep her cozy and warm. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to, to be honest. She’d been on her own for so long that she hadn’t been ready to feel at home in the midst of all this noise. And yet a part of her had yearned for this for years—for this warm, happy kitchen with its heavenly aroma and affectionate chatter. Filled with family. A part of her that ached for a mother who loved her and a father who was engaged with her rather than just being a vague presence in the background.

  “Hey,” Ian said,
his voice no louder than a whisper in her ear as his hand went to her back. “Too much?”

  Afraid she’d get a little emotional if she spoke, Lyndsey shook her head. “Just fine.”

  He clearly didn’t believe her. “You sure?”

  “Really sure.” She just didn’t want it to end.

  He seemed to get the point that she didn’t want to make an issue about it. Although still concerned, he bent down to give a quick kiss before asking his mother what had to be done next. Lyndsey continued her stirring as Ian started skewering the shrimp and teasing Mary over the amount of food she had prepared.

  It was clear Ian’s management style came directly from growing up in his mother’s kitchen. Despite the fact that Mary had barely spoken since all the kids arrived, she was very much in charge—putting people to work if they looked a little lost, jump-starting the conversation with a well-placed comment if there was a lull, working in tandem with Gavin to keep everyone happily occupied.

  Ian, who could have easily played the same role, stood back and let his mom run things. In fact, he seemed to be taking the same opportunity that Lyndsey was—watching the others in the room, particularly his kids. That said, Lyndsey wasn’t sure if Ian noticed his occasional glances towards her were observed by Annie and Kate—Annie with a huge smile on her face, Kate with a much more guarded look.

  Lyndsey was getting the feeling an outburst was imminent when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” yelled Jack, running into the hallway before anyone could stop him.

  “That must be Morgan,” Ian said with a look in Lyndsey’s direction. Then he headed after Jack. After rinsing off her hands and wiping them dry, Lyndsey followed.

  Because she was a good thirty seconds behind them, Jack was already approaching the door when she got out into the hallway. And since she was only seeing Ian from the back, she couldn’t be sure that she was truly seeing what she thought she was seeing: a moment of hesitation and then a squaring of his shoulders before he nodded to Jack to open the door.