The Good Girl's Second Chance (The Bravos Of Justice Creek 2)

by Christine Rimmer

  That Saturday was the engagement party at McKellan’s. Quinn hired a babysitter for Annabelle so that Manny could come with them to celebrate. Manny brought his girlfriend, Doris Remy, who was in her midseventies, a widow with fifteen grandchildren and five great-grandsons. Doris had an infectious laugh and loved to dance. She’d once been a Rockette at Radio City Music Hall and she remained slim and spry. McKellan’s upstairs party room had a small dance floor, and the Bravos had hired a DJ. Manny and Doris spent most of the evening out on that little square of floor.

  Quinn and Chloe danced, too. Chloe also danced with his brothers and with charming Ryan McKellan, who told her she looked happier than he’d ever seen her before. Ryan, like Clara and Quinn, had been in the same grade as Chloe back in school.

  Ryan, whom they all called Rye, said, “You always seemed so serious and distant back then.”

  And she agreed. “Because I was. I had places to go and things to do. Enjoying myself was never on the agenda.”

  “All that’s changed now, though, huh?” Rye asked.

  They danced past Quinn, who stood at the upstairs bar with his brother Carter and Clara’s fiancé, Dalton Ames. Quinn glanced over as they passed, almost as though he could feel her eyes on him. They shared a smile and a nod and a lovely, sparkly feeling shimmered through her.

  And Rye said, “No need to answer. You look at Quinn and your face says it all.”

  Because I love him, she thought. But she didn’t say it. That wouldn’t be right, to tell Rye McKellan that she loved Quinn when she’d yet to tell the man himself.

  At a little after midnight, with the party in full swing, Quinn’s mother, Willow Mooney Bravo, arrived. Chloe, Quinn, Nell and some guy named Ned were sitting at a table not far from the stairs when Willow appeared, looking more beautiful than ever in a white silk blouse with a prim little collar and a black satin skirt, her short blond hair softly curling around her luminous face.

  She came straight for their table.

  Nell rose. “Mom.” Nell and her mother exchanged air kisses. “Big surprise. I thought you were in Miami.”

  Since her husband’s death, Willow traveled a lot. “And miss the party? Never.”

  Quinn got up and hugged her. She smiled at him so fondly, laying her hand against his cheek, staring up into his eyes. “Congratulations, honey.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Chloe rose.

  Before she could say a word, Quinn’s mom said, “Chloe. So good to see you. You must call me Willow.” She took Chloe’s hand and laced their fingers together, as though the two of them were BFFs. “Tell you what. Let’s steal a few minutes alone and catch up a little.”

  Catch up? How could she catch up with someone she hardly knew? In her lifetime prior to that moment, she’d exchanged maybe three or four words total with Quinn’s mom.

  “Mom,” Quinn said cautiously. “Are you up to something?”

  Willow let out a bright trill of laughter. “What in the world could I be up to?”

  Nell made a snorting sound. “Anything’s possible. Be nice.”

  “Of course. I’m always nice.”

  Even Chloe was reasonably certain that was a lie, but she wanted to get off to a good start with Willow. “I’d love to, er, catch up.”

  “Great.” Willow gestured at a hallway across the room. “There’s a balcony in back. Let’s try that.”

  Willow led her through the crowd, pausing only for the occasional wave of greeting in the direction of someone she knew.

  Accessed through double glass doors, the balcony spanned the back of McKellan’s. It had a view of the pub’s full parking lot below and the dark humps of the Front Range in the distance.

  Willow pulled Chloe to an empty corner. Only then did she release Chloe’s hand. She didn’t waste time getting right to the point. “So, how are things with your mother?”

  Chloe went for honesty. It seemed the only course. “My mother and I aren’t speaking. That may be permanent.”

  Willow gave an elegant shrug. She’d been born in a double-wide southeast of town, but somehow everything she did was elegant. “I can’t say I’m sorry. Your mother doesn’t speak to me, either, never has. And I like it that way.” Chloe had no idea what to say to that, so she said nothing. Willow asked, “Are you saying you and your mother aren’t speaking because you’re with Quinn?”

  “That’s part of it, yes. But there are other problems, bigger issues.” Chloe shook her head. “And really, that’s all I’m going to say about my mother.”

  Willow rested her slim hands on the railing and stared off toward the mountains. “Quinn has...a tender soul.”

  “Yes. It’s one of the many things I love about him—and Nell’s already warned me not to hurt him, so you don’t have to go there.”

  “I didn’t think he would ever get married.” Willow glanced at Chloe then. “And never to someone like you.”

  Chloe felt annoyance rising and pointedly did not ask, What do you mean, someone like me? Instead, she offered pleasantly, “I think we’ll be happy together. We’re already happy.”

  Willow looked toward the mountains again and remarked in a weary tone, “You are a cool one.”

  “I...” Really, what was she supposed to say to this woman? “What, exactly, do you want from me, Willow?”

  Quinn’s mother continued her extended study of the distant peaks. “You know, I’m not sure. Except that you never struck me as a person who knew her own mind.” Ouch. That hit a little too close to home. How bad was this conversation going to get? As Chloe asked herself that question, Willow made it worse. “And you were born and raised to marry up, now, weren’t you? I just wonder, is Quinn ‘up’ enough for you? Do you think you’re better than he is?”

  “Absolutely not.” Chloe’s voice was hard and final, just as she’d intended it to be.

  “You say that as though you mean it.”

  “I do mean it.”

  “Wonderful. Then all I need to be sure of is that you can stand up to Linda. You need to be honest with yourself about that. Because if you can’t, there will be trouble ahead. Quinn’s had enough trouble, enough struggle in his life.”

  Before Chloe could decide how best to respond to that, Quinn spoke from behind her. “She’s doing fine bracing Linda, Mom—not that it’s any of your business in the first place.”

  Quinn to the rescue. Chloe could have hugged him. She turned and slipped her arm through his, finding great comfort in the hard strength of his forearm under her hand, in the solid warmth of him so close to her side.

  He slanted her a look both rueful and tender. “How you doing?”

  “Just fine. Now.”

  Willow sighed. “Quinn, you need to stop sneaking up on people.”

  “I’m in plain sight. You’re the one who was looking the other way.”

  “And it is my business,” Willow insisted. “You’re marrying Linda Winchester’s daughter, and Linda and I do not get along. I’m sorry about that, but it’s a fact. Chloe needs to be aware of the problem.”

  “I’m aware,” Chloe said. “Painfully so. And I’ve made it crystal clear to my mother that I run my own life and make my own decisions.”

  Quinn asked Willow, “Happy now?”

  “I only want you to be happy.”

  He put his big hand over Chloe’s, a touch of reassurance and support. Really, how did she get so lucky to finally find a man like him? “And I am happy, Mom. Very happy—now, come on. Let’s go back inside. It’s our party and we want to enjoy it.” He offered his mother his other arm.

  Willow took it and went in with them. Quinn got her a glass of white wine and she made the rounds, hugging her children, saying hello to various acquaintances. Within half an hour, she was leaving.

  “Back to Miami, no doubt,” said Nell as Willow slipped away down the stairs. “Or maybe Paris. Or New York. Since Dad died, she never stays here at home for long. I think she’s lonely in that big house all by herself.”

&
nbsp; “She does seem lonely,” Chloe agreed. Some of the things Willow had said to her still stung. But the woman was alone, and not in a good way. “She seems sad, too.”

  “Dad was her life. For decades, she battled Sondra to get him for her own. She was always kicking him out in big, dramatic scenes, telling him not to come back until he planned to stay. He would go home to Sondra. But he’d always come around again. And Mom would always take him back, even though he was still wearing his wedding band. Finally, when Sondra died, Mom got what she wanted most of all. For a while, Dad was hers and hers alone. And then he died, too. Now that he’s gone, she hardly knows what to do with herself.”

  “She should sell that house,” said Quinn. “It’s too big and it’s full of stuff that belonged to Sondra.”

  Nell made a scoffing sound. “Which is why she’ll never sell it. In the end, she won out over Sondra. She got Sondra’s house and a whole bunch of Sondra’s treasures—including her husband.” Nell hooked an arm around Chloe and dipped her bright head to rest on Chloe’s shoulder. It was a sisterly gesture that warmed Chloe’s heart. Nell whispered, “I hope she didn’t give you too much crap.”

  Chloe whispered back, “Look who’s talking about giving me crap.”

  Nell laughed and let her go.

  Quinn grumbled, “What are you two whispering about?”

  Chloe leaned the other way and kissed him. “Nothing that concerns you.”

  * * *

  The following Saturday was Clara and Dalton’s wedding.

  Quinn sat in the second-row pew with Chloe on one side and Annabelle on the other as Clara and Dalton exchanged their vows. Whenever Quinn glanced at Chloe, she gave him one of those glowing smiles of hers. Annabelle, in a little pink dress with a wide satin bow at the waist and a bell-like skirt, sat up straight with her plump hands folded in her lap, a perfect little lady. Chloe had taken her to Boulder to choose the dress and then made her the cute beaded headband with the big pink silk flower for her hair.

  Life was good, Quinn thought. He and Chloe were together every chance they got. Every night last week, they’d shared dinner, the four of them, like the family they were becoming. Chloe did a lot of the cooking, which made everyone happy. Manny had a boatload of great qualities, including a love of cooking. Too bad his cooking sucked.

  Yeah. Life was good. Didn’t get any better. Though he did feel a twinge of envy as Dalton Ames, his eyes only for Clara, announced proudly, I do.

  Quinn wanted that, what Dalton and Clara had. He’d never thought it would happen for him. And now that it had happened, now that he had Chloe, he wanted it settled, wanted to seal the deal.

  Okay, yeah. It had happened pretty fast with them. Some would say too fast.

  But he didn’t see it that way. They’d known each other since kindergarten. And besides, the way he looked at it, a thing either worked or it didn’t. And what he and Chloe had together worked just fine. He wanted her at his side at the end of the workday—and in his bed every night.

  She’d said yes. The decision was made. Why not take that walk down the aisle?

  Chloe needed time, though. And he knew he had to give her that, had to keep a rein on his growing impatience to set the date and make her his bride, to blend their lives together in the fullest way, be husband and wife for the whole world to see.

  Three and a half weeks had passed since the night she kicked her mother out of her house, the night she’d said she wanted to wait to set the date until after their engagement party—but then turned right around and insisted that she still wanted to get married soon.

  Well, the engagement party had been and gone. She hadn’t said word one since then about when they could stand up in front of a judge.

  If she didn’t bring it up soon, he would do it. And he had a strange intuition that it wouldn’t go well.

  Beside him, Chloe shifted slightly. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand. Heat and longing shivered across his skin. He caught her hand and laced their fingers together, turning his gaze to her.

  God, she was beautiful. She stared straight ahead at the altar, where Dalton Ames had just been told he could kiss his bride. A soft smile curved her mouth, a smile Quinn knew was just for him.

  When she smiled like that, his worries vanished. What they had was so damn good. And it would only get better. He just had to choose the right moment to remind her that if she wanted the wedding to be soon, they needed to set the damn date.

  The next day, Sunday, Chloe gave Annabelle her fairy princess costume, complete with featherweight, glittery lavender wings. Annabelle clapped her hands and jumped up and down with glee. Then she put on the costume and danced around the house, waving the matching wand in the air, tapping the chairs and tables, the sofa and the lampshades. Manny asked her, what, exactly, she was doing.

  “Magic,” she said, and whirled on to the kitchen.

  “I think she’s sprinkling fairy dust,” Chloe explained. “You know, like Tinker Bell in Peter Pan?”

  Manny, who was on his way out the door to spend the afternoon in Boulder with Doris, caught the fairy princess as she was dancing by and scooped her up into his arms. “Give me a hug and I’m outta here.”

  Annabelle tapped him lightly on the head with her wand. “There, Manny. Magic for you. Here’s some for Granny Doris, too.” She tapped him again. And then she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed good and tight.

  “How ’bout some sugar?” He pointed at his grizzled cheek.

  She planted a big smacker on him. “Now put me down. I’m very busy.”

  He let her go and she danced off up the stairs, spreading fairy dust as she went.

  After Manny left, Chloe packed a picnic for the three of them. Annabelle begged to wear her fairy costume and neither Quinn nor Chloe could see why she shouldn’t. Her rubber rain boots had purple flowers on them, and Annabelle decided they were perfect for a fairy princess, so she wore them with the dress. Chloe helped her remove the wings for the ride in the car.

  They drove out to the national forest and parked a mile or so from a spot Chloe knew that had picnic tables. Annabelle put her wings back on—and off they went. As they strolled beneath the tall trees, Quinn and Chloe held hands, and Annabelle danced along beside them in her rubber boots and fairy princess dress, waving her magic wand, spreading fairy dust far and wide.

  It was a great day. By eight that evening, when Chloe had kissed Annabelle good-night and gone back across the street to her house, Quinn was thinking that this was the night to bring up the wedding date. Manny should be home by ten to look after Annabelle. And Chloe would be expecting Quinn at her place. He would bring up the wedding first thing, before he took off all her clothes and buried himself in her softness.

  So yeah, he was maybe a little preoccupied when he tucked Annabelle into bed. She chattered away about her fairy princess dress and how she planned to wear it in her princess bedroom as soon as Chloe finished “dec’rating” down the hill at the other house.

  “I will be a fairy princess in my princess room, Daddy.”

  He smiled and nodded, tucking the covers in around her and her teddy bear, thinking how she was bound to get princess overload soon and also half rehearsing how best to coax Chloe into settling on a wedding date.

  “Daddy?”

  “What, Annie-mo-manny?”

  “Daddy.” She caught his face between her little hands. “I’m not Manny. Look at me. Stop being silly.”

  He opened his mouth to tease her some more—and something in those big brown eyes stopped him. “Okay.”

  “I need to ask you...”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “Well, Daddy. Do you think my mommy would like my fairy princess dress?” She gazed up at him, so sweet and hopeful, her shining brown hair spread across her butterfly-printed pillow.

  “I, uh...” His voice had a cracked sound to it and the spit seemed to have dried right up in his mouth. He swallowed hard to get the damn saliva going again and managed,
“I think your mommy would love it.”

  “Can she come to see me, please? I need to show her my fairy princess dress and my wings and my magic wand.”

  His mind went dead blank, the way it used to do way back in elementary school when he would open a schoolbook and stare down at the incomprehensible chains of letters jittering across the page.

  Yeah. Just like being a kid again, his brain refusing to function, his heart like a damn wrecking ball, swinging hard, battering the cage of his chest.

  He wanted to leap up and run downstairs and across the street, to drag Chloe back over here, have her handle this. Please God, he really didn’t want to blow it.

  Annabelle continued to gaze up at him, trusting, serious—and waiting for his answer.

  Suddenly he could almost hear Chloe’s voice in his mind. Answer her question as simply as possible. “No, baby. Your mommy can’t come.”

  “Why?”

  His throat locked up tight. But he didn’t give up. He squeezed the words right through the tightness. “Because when you were born, she gave you to me. She trusted me to love you and take care of you.”

  “And then she went away?”

  “Yeah. Then she went away.”

  “Why?”

  He realized he hated that question. “She...had a lot of things to do.”

  “What things?”

  “Baby, I don’t really know. I only know that she gave you to me to take care of and I am so glad that she did.”

  “She won’t come back, ever?”

  “No, I don’t think she will. And that’s why you have Manny and me, because we love you so much.”

  “And you like to take care of me?”

  “Oh, yeah. We love to take care of you.”

  Annabelle fingered her old blanket. She had her scruffy teddy bear in a headlock. “Does Chloe like to take care of me?”

  He tried a smile, though it probably looked more like a grimace, he was so freaked that he might be royally screwing this up. “Yes, she does.”