Ducking behind an open file, Eve said, “I’m not the slightest bit upset.”
“Then what’s with your deep freeze? We live in Florida and it was a pretty fabulous day. So why am I now cold as hell?”
At that, she laughed. “I’m embarrassed, okay? The woman I was last night…”
Garrett leaned across the table to lower the file. Her beauty never failed to take his breath away and this time was no exception. Eyes clear, makeup fading to make way for her natural glow, her hair long and a little messier than she probably liked… The mere sight of her made his heart skip a beat. “The woman you were last night was a wildcat.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I liked her. And I liked her even more when she showed herself to be a real live, vulnerable human just like the rest of us.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “We should get back to work.”
“Should we?” He took her file and closed it. “As much as I want to find our son, tonight, I think there’s something more important we should do.”
Eyes wide, she shook her head. “Oh, no, not another trip to Schmitty’s.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Holding out his hand to her, he said, “We’re going to do something we haven’t done since you dragged me along with freshman choir.”
“Christmas caroling?” Eyebrows raised, she noted, “You hated to sing.”
“Still do. But I also hate disappointing my mom and she asked us to go.”
“I don’t know…” Worrying her lower lip, she wrinkled her nose. “I’m assuming this is with her church crowd? What if we don’t fit in?”
He squeezed her hand. “What if we don’t worry about anything other than grabbing our fair share of hot cocoa and Santa cookies waiting for us back at Mom’s house when we’re done?”
* * *
“DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW…” Eve hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the simple act of singing. By the time she and Garrett and his mom’s Bible-study group had belted out tunes at ten houses, her throat was already tired—but in a good way.
“Having fun?” Garrett nudged her side as they trudged down Baker Street toward their next audience.
“Yeah, I am. After Mom died, Daddy was never big on Christmas. Juanita always puts up decorations, but that was more out of formality and expectations than because of his overflowing holiday spirit.”
“What about the crafty stuff we made in elementary school? He never displayed it?” In addition to sharing their first two years of high school, they’d also shared junior high and second through fifth grade. “Mom still puts up cinnamon-stick reindeer and those god-awful ugly green paper plates with our crooked pictures on them.”
The new knot in Eve’s throat had nothing to do with too much singing. “Not sure what happened to all of my stuff. Maybe we’ll find it in one of Daddy’s files.”
“Sorry.” When Garrett took her hand, Eve didn’t fight him. They’d hung at the back of the crowd and under the cloak of night, none of his mother’s group could see them. Simple human contact felt as good as singing. Not that their brief sexual encounter hadn’t been amazing, but Garrett holding her afterward had been even better. The air smelled sweet, of winter-blooming flowers and humidity rolling in from the Gulf. “I know so many kids who were jealous of you back in school, but even though you had a brand-new Mercedes and all the latest clothes, you missed out on a lot.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” She released his hand, only to have him snatch hers back.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. Just never occurred to me you had troubles, too. You might not’ve had to slave away your weekends working at Burger Barn, but you had your own issues to deal with.”
“I guess.” Eve had never thought of her younger years that way, but looking back on them, having to always be perfectly behaved had been difficult. In a sense, when Eve’s father had paraded her out at dinner parties, having made sure Juanita dressed her in fancy gowns matching the color of his ties, she’d been a quasi stand-in for her mother. Not a woman, but not a child.
Changing the subject, she asked, “What’s your gut feeling on the kind of childhood our son is having?”
“Part of me thinks if Hal was brazen enough to sell him, it would’ve been to a family who could afford to buy a child—not that having money qualifies anyone to necessarily be an expert parent.” He released her hand to shove his in his jeans pocket.
“If that was a dig at my dad, I’m sure he did the best with me as he knew how. Before Mom’s accident, when I wasn’t in school or art or ballet, I spent most of my free time with her. When she died, he was as lost as me. Maybe even more so because he’d been forced to become my mother and father.” Without Garrett’s hold, Eve now felt cool despite the night’s balmy temperature. What chilled her more was that no matter how much she stood up for her father, the fact remained that he had committed a monstrous, unconscionable act. And she wasn’t sure how she’d ever forgive him.
The group arrived in front of a ranch house decorated in blinking blue lights. Though Eve had been very much enjoying the night, when a family came out the front door to listen and applaud, the sight of three small children dressed in footie pajamas, framed by clearly adoring parents, tore at Eve’s heart. How would her life have been different had her mother lived? An even more pressing question was how might her life have played out had she and Garrett been given the opportunity to keep their son? Might they now be a mirror image of the happy family standing before them?
Most likely not. But she ached for that happy imaginary couple.
They rounded the block, stopping at five more homes before returning to Garrett’s mother’s.
Dina had decorated the small house with enough Christmas kitsch to open her own holiday-themed store. Most every flat surface had been covered with fake snow and held blinking or glowing elves, reindeer and Santas. The large tree in the living-room bay window was live and fragrant and held a dizzying amount of colorful lights and homemade ornaments. Eve recalled Garrett complaining about not having a live tree. Guess he’d gotten his way. A more formally decorated themed tree stood in the dining room. It had white lights and hundreds of angels and silver glass balls. Its beauty was mesmerizing and held Eve transfixed.
Behind her, Dina said, “Pretty amazing, huh? My grandmother gave me my first angel ornament when I was just eight years old. I’ve been collecting them ever since.”
“That’s incredible.”
Waving off Eve’s wonder, Dina said, “I’m sure you have way more impressive collections in that mansion of yours.”
Eve shrugged. “They might be more expensive, but somehow yours seems more meaningful.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how are you feeling these days? I’ve seen an awful lot of troubling Barnesworth business news in the paper.”
“Don’t remind me.” Eve fingered a particularly delicate angel with a gold gossamer gown and feathered wings. “It’ll get cleared up. We’ve weathered worse storms.”
“Well…” Dina patted her back. “Garrett and I are here for you if you ever need us.”
“Thank you.” She wrapped the woman in a spontaneous hug. “That means a lot.”
While Dina bustled off to assemble a dessert buffet, Eve stayed at the gathering’s sidelines, taking it all in. With Bing Crosby crooning many of the carols they’d just sung and a fire crackling in the hearth, the scene was unbearably cozy. It made Eve almost dread returning to her cavernous home. Her d
ad had been a larger-than-life figure and while he’d been alive, he always had one guest or another. Now, with Juanita the only staff member who slept over, at times Eve craved the close confines of her old sorority room. At least there, she’d always been surrounded by people—maybe no one she felt particularly close to, but live bodies all the same.
“What’s wrong?” Garrett asked, appearing by her side. “You’re letting all of these women beat you to the cookies. At the rate they’re scarfing them down, in another five minutes every damned one will be gone—the cookies, not the ravenous women.”
He held a stack of four iced sleighs. Grinning, she noted, “Looks like my biggest competition is you.”
“Have one.” He held it to her lips. The unexpected intimacy brought a rush of heat, making her recall not the taste of sugar and icing, but the faint hint of beer riding his sexy breath.
When she bit the cookie, he smiled. His strong white teeth and the lazy draw of his lips set her pulse racing. A craving to kiss him swelled her breasts as if her body instinctively wanted him.
“Good, huh?” he asked, indicating to his mother’s baking.
“Delicious,” she answered, thinking of his lips.
Chapter Eight
“I’m sorry,” the town librarian whispered to Garrett, “but we’re closing early today for our Christmas party. You and Ms. Barnesworth will have to go.”
“Sure. I understand.” For the past three hours, he and Eve had searched computer archives of neighboring towns’ birth announcements. As usual, with no results.
Eve groaned.
“Chin up,” he said with what he hoped came across as a playful nudge. His elbow had grazed her right breast, reminding him all too well just how intoxicating her bare skin had felt against his. “Maybe on the way out we’ll snag a few cookies.”
“You’re obsessed with cookies.”
He grinned. “It’s Christmas. Now that the whole Santa conspiracy is out of the box, baked goods are all I have.”
She closed her eyes and sighed.
“What?” Despite having done his dead-level best to fatten her up, she still seemed frail. As if the slightest wisp of wind or more bad news would send her physically and emotionally toppling. He should’ve held on to his anger at her for not including him in all decisions concerning their son, but that brand of negative energy felt counterproductive. “Bummed about not finding any new leads?”
“Of course.” She’d slung her purse over her shoulder. “The clock is ticking on how long you’ll even be in town. If we don’t find him by the end of your leave, where do we turn?”
“You worry too much. Let’s just for now keep the status quo. We’ll figure out the rest as we go along.”
He pushed in their chairs, then ushered her from the quiet back room into the library’s main room where a surprisingly raucous party was in full swing.
Telling himself he’d slipped his arm around her waist more for support than because of his craving to touch her, he whispered in her ear. “Who knew librarians like Aerosmith? Wanna crash?”
“Everyone likes Aerosmith,” she teased.
“They’ve dimmed the lights,” he noted, “the dessert table is unmanned and I’m pretty sure that table in front of periodicals is holding Rotel dip and Lit’l Smokies.”
“I can do better. Come on.” This time she took his hand, guiding him out to their respective cars. “Follow me to my place. Not only will I feed you, but we’ll hatch up a fresh plan of attack.”
“I don’t know…” When he cocked his head, he reminded her of an incorrigible little boy. Which only made her wonder how adorable their son must be. Throat tight, she dropped his hand. “If there aren’t baked goods involved, I’m not sure I’m on board.”
“Th-that’s okay. I probably should tackle more work anyway.” Stupid. Why had she put herself out there like that? She should’ve known he’d want nothing more to do with her outside of this search for their son. What she couldn’t have known was how badly his rejection would sting.
“What? It’s past seven. Eve—I was joking. I’m so hungry I’d cheerfully eat an MRE.”
“What’s that?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Officially stands for Meal, Ready-to-Eat. But also affectionately called Meals Rejected by the Enemy or Mystery Meals. Either way, they pretty much suck. Promise, you could feed me a grilled cheese and I’d be forever in your debt.”
“All right then…” Her heart skipped in ridiculous excitement. Lord knew, she’d have been better off had Garrett gone home to his mom’s, so why did she now feel like the giddy teen she’d once been? Hoping to spend a few minutes after the big game with the star quarterback? “Let’s go.”
As tonight was Juanita’s weekly canasta party, Eve and Garrett would have the house to themselves.
Eve beat him there, and used the time to light a fire and a few lamps and candles in the wood-paneled den—the only remotely cozy part of the house. She’d just made it to the kitchen when the doorbell rang.
She ran in that direction only to catch herself. The sudden movement brought on a dizzy spell that took a moment to pass. Though she hadn’t been hungry for lunch, apparently her body was.
“Long time no see,” Garrett quipped when she welcomed him through the front door. “Fixed anything to eat yet?”
“I’ve been home five minutes.”
“And?” His smile made her weak all over again.
“Us Barnesworths aren’t exactly known for our talents in the kitchen. But come on, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Twenty minutes later, Eve sat at the granite counter’s bar, watching Garrett finish a divine-smelling cheese-and-veggie omelet. How was it that he was not only great at knocking out reporters, belting out carols and now even beating pancake batter? He’d never said much about his life as a SEAL, but she could only imagine he was equally as proficient at that, too. Was there anything the guy couldn’t do?
“Voilà.” He plated half the omelet, setting it in front of her with a napkin and fork.
“When did you learn to do all of this when here I thought you’ve been off fighting wars?”
He laughed. “It’s no big deal—a fact you’d know if you hadn’t lived your entire life as a pampered princess. Which begs the question, how did you and your ex survive when we’ve just witnessed the sad truth that you can’t even crack an egg?”
“Stop!” She should’ve been outraged, but his ribbing was kind of fun. He spoke the truth and the fact that she had reached her twenties without learning even the most basic of cooking skills was admittedly sad. “I make a mean bowl of Cap’n Crunch—and nobody orders takeout faster than me.”
The sweet vanilla scent of his pancakes made her stomach growl and for the first time in weeks, she felt truly hungry. After her first bite of omelet, she groaned with contentment. “This is so good.”
“Thanks. Made these for my roomies all the time.”
“Tell me about them.” He flipped perfect pancakes.
“Deacon and I were together the longest, but he went and got married on me. Ellie’s a great gal, though. They share a gorgeous little girl—Pia. Took them forever to get together, but now that they’re finally official, they’re rock solid.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale.” Eve hadn’t meant it to be, but her tone was wistful. What must it be like? Sharing that perfect kind of love?
“It was—is.” He handed her a stack of the sweet portion of their meal before turning introspe
ctive. “A while ago, I told Deacon about you getting pregnant back in high school. He’s the only one who knows—aside from my folks.”
“Wh-what exactly did you say?” Had he trashed her for shutting him out? If he had, could she blame him?
“His own daughter came as a surprise—complicated, but enough like our situation that I shared with him how I had a son, but he died. And I told him how I’d have given anything for not only our boy to have lived, but to get a second chance with you.”
Eve’s throat knotted.
“Now here we are, and it’s…” Having loaded his own plate, he killed the flame on the stove, turning his back on her.
“Still complicated?”
“That’s one way of putting it.” He half laughed, but in doing so, met her eyes. In that one simple look he conveyed warmth and caring and strength beyond measure. “Truth is, once we find our boy, aside from our dealings with him, we most likely won’t be in each other’s lives.”
Why? Eve wished she could give voice to the question, but lacked the courage. Beyond that, how did she begin explaining how much she enjoyed Garrett’s company? And how already she dreaded his leaving after the holidays. “You’re probably right.”
“Any idea where Juanita keeps the syrup?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Before, Eve had looked forward to her evening alone with Garrett. Now she wasn’t sure what to expect. Part of her wanted to tell him everything, how their night spent caroling had meant so much. And how what had no doubt just been sex to him had been the first time she’d wholly felt pleasure in years. But she couldn’t say any of that, because he wouldn’t care and neither should she.
He found a glass jar filled with an amber liquid, pouring it into a saucepan. “Whenever Mom makes pancakes, she warms the syrup.”
The SEAL's Stolen Child Page 9
