“That’s my girl!”
Clearly, she should have kept their one evening together to herself. Talia was such a hound. Shannon shook her head. She gave her friend a hug and headed for her car.
“If you decide to spend the night, text me. We’ll bring the kids by in the morning.”
Shannon waved her off, honking as she backed out of the driveway.
Now here she was, last minute shopping for a knockout dress that might, or might not, be for a booty call. To say she was nervous was putting it very mildly. Dean had promised steak and salad, so he did intend to have them eat. It wasn’t just about the sex.
Shannon pulled a deep purple cocktail dress off the rack and held it against her. On anyone else it would look gorgeous. But with her shade of red hair, it just clashed. Her color palettes had always been so limited. It made shopping for clothes a lot less fun. Then again, given her budget, that was probably a good thing. She put it back and checked to see if they had a similar one in teal or emerald.
No, but she found a cute little spaghetti-strapped number in the most beautiful sapphire blue. The attraction was so immediate that she almost couldn’t bear to check the tag. Anything she wanted this badly had to come at a price—a big price. Resigned to give up this newly coveted treasure, Shannon frowned, snatching at the tag and turning it to face her.
Okay, it wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t totally unreasonable either. If she ended up getting the job as teacher’s assistant, she’d have a second income starting in the fall. She could put it on a credit card and have it paid off by Christmas. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d justify it no matter what.
Holding her prize to her chest, she strode confidently to the register. The saleswoman complimented her choice, remarking on how closely the color in the dress matched her eyes.
“Special occasion?”
“Just a date, really.”
“You’re getting awfully dressed up for just a date. He must be someone very special.”
“Yes, he’s very special.” Shannon handed over her credit card and shifted impatiently for her turn to sign the receipt.
“Have a wonderful evening. Maybe you’ll be in soon to shop for a honeymoon trousseau?” Shannon blinked as the saleswoman waved goodbye.
Good Lord! That wasn’t what this was about, was it? They barely knew each other. Yes, they had a good thing going. He was wonderful with the children. He was loving and caring and helpful and generous, everything that she had no business expecting in her life anymore. But marriage?
Her nerves completely jangled, Shannon spun her thinking around in the opposite direction. Laying the dress over the back of the passenger seat, she made her way around to her side of the minivan. What if he thought things were moving too fast? Or he didn’t feel the same way about her that she felt about him. He was going to tell her that they needed to go back to just being neighbors.
Shannon had herself in a tizzy when she finally pulled into her own driveway and carried her purchase up to the cottage. She was tempted to chicken out, tell Dean she was still feeling a little ill and ask for a rain check. Doing breathing exercises to get a grip on her panic, she started to get ready for their date.
At 7 o’clock sharp, Shannon stood on his doorstep, waiting for Dean to answer the doorbell. She smoothed down the skirt of her new dress for the hundredth time. Had she remembered to cut the tags out? Was her lipstick too dark? Cool it, girl. This is just a date.
The door opened and her senses were immediately assaulted. Dean wore slacks, the fit tight through his muscular thighs. She knew the view would be even better from behind. His silky shirt, too, was tight. All the better to accentuate those killer pecs. Oh, she was a lucky girl! Shannon sniffed the air and her smile was full of surprised delight.
“That smells incredible. You cooked for me?”
“Aw, come on, don’t sound so surprised. You taught me how to use that broiler. And it’s pretty hard to mess up a tossed salad.” He held out a hand and pulled her into the foyer, not releasing her hand until he’d caressed every part of her body using only his eyes.
“Promise me you will wear that dress every single day, for the rest of your life.”
The rough kiss that followed indicated that Dean had promises of his own of how he intended the evening to go. Shannon trailed behind him, her legs more than a little shaky.
They wandered through to the kitchen, the scent of perfectly seasoned meat making it very hard to keep from drooling. Dean still held her hand and squeezed it when he got to the dining room. Shannon gasped. She’d never noticed the formal dining room, and with the way Dean had set everything up she was amazed.
A centerpiece of deep red roses set off the pristine white in the lace tablecloth. Irish lace? It was incredible. The man could set a table, too. The china was fancier than anything she’d ever eaten off of. She bet the flatware was real silver. And there were cloth napkins with fancy napkin rings. Shannon stared hard at the table. There really was a lot she didn’t know about her neighbor.
“Oh, I forgot the lighter for the candles.”
The timer went off in the kitchen and Dean turned a conflicted glance to the doorway.
“I’ll get it. You get those beautiful steaks out. Where do you keep the lighter?”
“It’s in the top left hand drawer of my desk, in my office.”
“Be back in a jiffy.”
Shannon made her way back down the hall, past the library that she longed to lose herself in at some point, past the den with the fireplace where she and Dean had spent a glorious evening. His office was nearer the front of the house.
A huge cherry wood desk faced the doorway. The window behind it looked out on the arborvitae hedges that separated their yards. Shannon pushed the plush leather chair out of the way and pulled out the drawer on the left. The lighter wasn’t immediately visible, so she pulled a sheaf of papers out and set them on the blotter.
Doing a double-take at the official stamp, she gave the top page a once over. If she could take back any moment in her life, this would be the one. If she could go back and unread the truth she’d just learned, she would. Anything was better than finding out that Dean had fathered a child and was denying child support, denying his flesh and blood.
“Did you find it?”
“You could say that.”
Shannon knew the exact moment that Dean caught up with the situation. The color drained from his face and he looked like he was struggling for just the right words, only his tongue was too tangled to speak.
Her lungs burning from unshed tears she forced herself not to lose it in front of him. She held up the stack of papers with a shaky hand and asked, with an equally shaky tremor in her voice, “I only have one question. Is this the important thing you wanted to talk to me about tonight?”
He lowered his focus to the carpet, his eyes full of shame and regret. “I was actually saving that one. It’s not what you think, Shannon.”
“It’s not a paternity suit?” She shot him a chilly stare.
“Well, yeah, it is. But this woman, she’s just out for money.”
“You know what? I totally get that. I’ve spent the last five years raising my three children alone, and if my pride had let me, and I’d known where Vince was, I probably would have been ‘out for money,’ too.”
He sputtered something but her pulse was pounding so loudly in her ears that Shannon could no longer hear a word he was saying. She slapped the papers down on the desk, slammed the drawer shut, and ran from the room. When Dean reached out a hand to stop her she sidestepped to avoid the contact. She was halfway down the driveway when she finally succumbed to tears.
Chapter Twenty
How the hell did she end up the bad guy? Shannon stood in the doorway to Brenna’s room, being given the cold shoulder, the same reaction she’d come across moments before in the boys’ room. They were not taking this well. Her “I’m serious this time—no one steps one foot on Mr. Dean’s property without major consequences” speech was met
with pouts, stomps, and lots of whining. Oh, if only she were allowed to indulge in a good tantrum herself.
When her whispered “love you” was answered with silence, she started glumly down the hall to the kitchen. It was for the best. Dean wasn’t the man she thought she knew. But then the joke was on her. She really never knew who he was. Who treats a neighbor’s triplets like they meant more to him than the world, but wouldn’t claim and help support a child of their own? Someone with no heart, that’s who.
Shannon yanked open the fridge and studied the contents. It was baking time. She took out the carton of eggs and tub of margarine, almost forgetting herself and slamming the eggs to the counter. He made her angrier still, for affecting her like this. Get out of my head, you jerk! Get out of my heart.
Taking a shaky breath, Shannon moved to the pantry, gripping the door tightly as she searched for more ingredients to throw together. A single tear tracked down her cheek and she dashed it away with an angry swipe. No, he’s not worth this. He doesn’t deserve to be cried over. How many tearful nights had the mother of his child spent worrying over how she was going to afford to raise her baby?
Brownies or banana bread? Both. She’d have made something else too, if she’d had anything left in the pantry. It was time for a Costco run. Shannon emerged from the pantry, a box in each hand. She bumped the door shut with her butt. Sniffling, she dropped them off on the counter and dropped to her knees to dig out the hand mixer.
She measured out the ingredients for the brownies and turned the mixer on low, hoping she wasn’t bothering her little sleepers. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her chest ached. She wanted to howl, to just belt out a scream so loud it would wake the dead. Her head and her heart were at war over the infuriating man next door. Her head was telling her how foolish she was to let a man into her life, her heart. Men couldn’t be trusted. They couldn’t be relied upon.
But this one can, her heart cried. This one is special.
She hadn’t given him a chance to explain. She frowned, pouring the smooth batter into the non-stick pan, her back straightening just a little. There again, her head and heart were in disagreement. Her head was claiming there was nothing that explained this beyond lack of character. Her heart tried to tell her that the man she knew would not abandon a child, any child, without good reason. Did he have a good reason?
The brownie pan went into the oven, the timer set and the bowl washed out for the banana bread. Shannon used a wooden spoon this time, stirring for all she was worth and hoping she didn’t snap the spoon in her distress. She’d done that the night she’d baked after learning about her mother’s upcoming nuptials. Wooden utensils probably weren’t the best implements for a stress baker like herself.
Shannon set the bread pan on the counter to wait its turn in the oven. She briefly considered taking a glass of wine in for a good soak (and a cry, if she were being truthful) in the tub, but worried she wouldn’t hear the timer. She poured the wine and carried the glass to her little roll top desk and her laptop.
She sank into the computer chair and took a large swallow of cabernet. What sucked, what really sucked, was that Dean was the one she had come to lean on during these moments when she just needed to talk, needed to cry . . . just needed someone. Who did she talk to when what she needed to talk about was him? And why, damn it, was he still the very first person she thought of?
Shannon groaned, setting her glass down and rubbing her aching temples with her fingertips. She still needed to explain things to Talia. Poor woman. She’d burst in like a madwoman to get the kids the night before, saying only that she’d talk to her later. Talia had called today. Dean had called too. She’d taken the phone off the hook. She wasn’t accepting phone calls today. The kids were calling her “Mean Mommy.”
Maybe her mom was on Skype. It wasn’t their usual night, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be online and surfing, shopping, or whatever it was women with actual free time did on the internet. Shannon took another slug of wine and opened up her browser. She had mail. The next sip of wine went down the wrong way and left her in a fit of coughing when she saw who the email was from. Vince Bainbridge.
Her fingers hovered over the keys. The urge to delete the email without reading it was almost impossible to ignore. Her heart and head were in agreement on this one: “Threat, threat!” They screamed as one. She stared at the screen, working up the courage to open the email. Shaky fingers scrabbled for the wine glass and she drained the contents. Here goes nothing.
Shannon,
The internet is a pretty small world. It was easier to find your email than I thought it would be.
I know this is too little too late, but I owe you all kinds of apologies. I was an immature kid who had no business getting married and bringing children into the world when I was too selfish to even take care of myself. Yeah, I know you sacrificed your own college career to become my wife and take care of me. And I thanked you by walking out when you needed me most.
Dad called me the other night. Said he saw the triplets. Said you’ve got a new guy. Told me to get my ass home. He’s right. I need to come home. I need to own up to my mistakes. I want to meet my kids. I want to say sorry—in person. It’s time, Shannon. I’m in upstate New York and plan to drive up for a quick visit. I’ll be there in a few days. I can’t wait to see you again.
Your reformed-deadbeat-ex-husband, Vince.
Shannon slammed the cover of her laptop, snatched a pillow off the couch, and ran out to the porch. Throwing herself full out on the porch glider, she stuffed her face in the pillow and screamed until her throat was raw and every ounce of emotion drained from her body. Then she went back inside to eat her way through a pan of brownies while her banana bread baked.
Chapter Twenty-One
She wasn’t taking his calls. He knew better than to show up on her doorstep. How was he supposed to fix this? Dean drove past Shannon’s driveway on the way to his interview at the elementary school. She wasn’t home. If he’d had flowers, he could have left them for her to find. She’d probably throw them away.
This was supposed to have been an exciting day for him. Shannon was supposed to know who he was by now. Then if he got the position as music teacher at Scallop Shores Elementary, they would have celebrated together. It was his chance to make a place for himself in the community.
Now he was starting to wonder if this was the place for him. In the short few months he’d been here, Scallop Shores had grown on him. He could separate out the locals from the tourists. He was starting to be recognized around town, not for his role as a former boy band member but as the newest addition to the town. It felt good. It felt right. But what if Shannon had let word spread about the paternity suit?
He wasn’t giving her enough credit. But he couldn’t help that small niggle of doubt, that stinging wound left by every other woman he’d dated. He knew he should trust her to keep his business private, and it disgusted him that he even let those doubts in. Shannon was different. He trusted her with his heart; now he needed to trust her with everything else.
“Hey, Dean.” One of the local cops, Chase, if he recalled correctly, waved as he stepped out of Logan’s Bakery.
Dean studied his face for censure and, finding none, smiled and waved back. He ducked into the shop and headed for the register to place his order.
“Good morning, Dean. How are things?” The woman who ran the joint, Cady, asked him.
“Great, just great. Can I get a latte to go?” He stared hungrily into the display case. “And a bear claw, please?”
“You got it.” She started the milk steaming and then reached into the case for his pastry. “Where are Shannon and the kids today?”
Small town, indeed. “I, uh . . . ” How much to reveal? “Shannon’s not talking to me. I think I screwed this up.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Whatever it is, she’ll get over it.”
“How can you be so certain?” Dean peeled off a few ones and handed them to Cady. She t
ried to drop the change in his palm but he pushed her hand toward the tip jar she kept on the counter.
“Shannon Fitzgerald making time with a man? Huge news, right there. When she came back to town to have those babies, she wouldn’t have anything to do with anyone that owned a penis.” A grizzled old man at the counter offered this sage advice.
“Mr. Feeney, that’s TMI.” Cady tsked.
“Don’t know what TMI is, but that’s the dang truth, that is. She even made sure she had a lady doc deliver those triplets.”
“Aren’t you glad you moved to this busybody town full of people who can’t mind their own business?” Cady threw the question out to Dean while her scowl remained focused on Mr. Feeney.
“Actually, yeah I am. Call me crazy, but I’m really liking it here.” Dean grinned, raising his latte in salute.
“Crazy! Just kidding. Listen, you got Shannon to open up to you. That’s so huge. Give her some time and then see if she’ll let you explain. Talk it out.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, and good luck with the interview today.”
Dean shook his head as he headed back out to his car. How the hell they learned some things and not others, it was just spooky.
• • •
Shaking hands with the principal of Scallop Shores Elementary, Dean accepted the recently vacated position of music teacher. He had filled the man in on his background, finding it remarkably easy to talk about his past. Mr. Hobbs was excited with the energy and the experience that Dean would be bringing to his new role. He’d told him how lucky the children were to have him. Dean assured Mr. Hobbs that he was honored to be able to share his love of music with the students.
They agreed that it would probably be best to keep the boy band thing on the down low, just until everyone got to know him better. Even elementary-age children could get star struck and find it hard to focus on the learning, when what they really wanted to hear was what it was like to be a pop star.
Dean left the front office, started to head for the door, and turned at the last minute, deciding to do a little exploring of his new place of employment. The halls were empty, school still a few weeks away. He tried to imagine what it would be like when everyone returned: the noise, the laughter, the chaos. And he’d be a part of it. He couldn’t wait.
Hearts Are Wild Page 38
