She didn’t answer, leaning into him instead and closing her eyes to imagine that life. It wasn’t the first time she had, but somehow tonight those fantasies felt bittersweet and beautiful and not so utterly out of reach.
“But it didn’t happen that way,” she finally said.
“It still can.” He took her chin in his hand to turn her face to his. “At least a piece of it can. Before we’re too old to think about it.”
“Which is, you know, rapidly approaching.”
“You’ve got a few good childbearing years in you, Evie Hewitt.” He grazed her lower lip with his thumb, sending a shiver through her. “And the rest of those dreams? The part about getting married and living here… All I want to say is everything is on the table. And don’t tell me there is no table. Whatever you want.”
The totality of the offer nearly took her breath away. “Declan, I need to think about it.”
“Okay, but thinking doesn’t make a baby.”
That made her smile, but the humor faded as she looked into his eyes, and all that hope rose up and clutched her heart. Was this even possible? In some ways, it didn’t matter. Just that he offered was the sweetest thing.
“Declan Mahoney, you are the damn finest man I’ve ever known. You have such a good soul and a big heart.” She touched his cheek. “And you’re still so freaking hot.”
He laughed softly, inching back to look at her. “And you are still the most beautiful, talented, sexiest, smartest, most empathetic woman I’ve ever known, Evie Hewitt. And you will make a stunning mother.”
She inhaled as the compliments washed over her as he kissed her. She could taste wine on his lips and the sweet, sweet words that pressed on the innermost place in her heart.
Instantly, the kiss heated, and she wanted more, parting her lips and clinging to him with all her strength.
When they broke for breath, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this you thinking about it?”
“Yeah. Thinking hard.” She slid her hands into his hair and pulled him down to stretch out on the sofa, which wasn’t nearly big enough for both of them.
But right then, she didn’t care. All that mattered was the weight of him on top of her, the strength and heat and pure masculinity of a man she cared deeply about. A man willing to give her anything and everything.
He kissed her throat and tunneled his fingers in her hair, making her weak and breathless.
“Evie,” he murmured. “Once we start…”
“I know, I know.” But she didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted his hands on her breasts and his mouth on her skin and the full length of him right where she could rock against him. “This is helping me…think.”
He laughed into the next kiss. “Really.” He planted his lips down her throat, into the V of her cotton sweater, sliding one hand up to sear her waist and ribs with a callused, hot palm. “’Cause it’s kind of making me lose my mind.”
She moaned her response, arching and offering him an invitation to touch her. He took it, caressing her breast over the thin silk of her bra with one hand and cupping her cheek to angle her face for a deeper kiss with the other.
Denim rubbed denim as they rolled their hips against each other, each breath more strangled than the one before, her ears ringing as blood rushed between her legs and tortured her with sweet pleasure.
No, that wasn’t her ears.
Declan broke away and rose up. “What is that bell?”
“Granddaddy,” she said on a sigh. “He probably wants to be helped to the bathroom for the evening.”
“He’d be really unhappy if he knew he interrupted this.”
“Seriously.” She kissed him one more time, knowing that this particular interlude was about to come to an untimely end.
He sat all the way up and tugged her sweater back over her bare stomach, making her moan with disappointment. “It’s better this way,” he said.
“Says who?”
“Says the voice of reason. Evie. You do need to think about it and consider every aspect. Ask me a million questions. Make me sign something if you…” His voice trailed off.
“I will think about it. In fact…” She kissed him again. “I probably won’t think about anything else.”
“That makes two of us.”
They stood slowly, a little shaky, but held on to each other. “I’m bringing Judah home tomorrow.”
“Not without me you’re not.”
“You think I need you for everything?” she teased.
“For some things. Like Judah. And…a baby.”
“A baby.” She whispered the word, letting the possibility rest on her heart. “I can’t believe we’re even talking about it.”
He put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her one more time. “It might have taken a long time, but I’m a man of my word, Evie.”
She sighed against him, open to anything at all if he could be a part of it.
* * *
When Declan stepped outside a few minutes later, his head was still reeling. He took a few seconds to stand in the shadows of the front porch, looking out at the lights as they flickered to life and twilight fell.
He waited for a kick of second-guessing, but none came.
The suggestion might have been spontaneous and prompted by an old promise, but the rightness of it settled on his chest like a shiny new department badge.
He had no doubts. Questions, yes. Concerns, of course. But nothing he and Evie couldn’t work out as adults who cared intensely about each other’s well-being. Just as he was about to step off the porch toward the walk, something flashed in the street, making him stop.
Not lightning. Not a porch light in the neighborhood. A camera flash. Another flipping tourist.
On instinct, he inched back into the shadows, scanning the sloping driveway to the street beyond, empty but for one car parked in front of a house across the street. Wasn’t it a little late to be sightseeing?
He stepped off the porch then and onto the walk, giving the evil eye to the interloper even though they probably didn’t deserve it. Hell, the house was one of the prettiest things in Bitter Bark. And so was the woman inside it.
He turned back to look up the driveway, forcing himself to see Gloriana House for all its, well, glory. And not what it represented in the past, but…the future. For him and Evie. The two of them—oh, no, the three of them—making Gloriana House a happy home.
He almost choked at the thought. Not only had he made a compelling case for the most life-changing scenario imaginable, was he actually thinking about the possibility of…living here?
Yeah. He’d lost his mind. Or had he? What if there was a baby? What if Evie stayed in Bitter Bark? What if they raised a child here so Evie could carry on all her traditions and hold recitals in the museum room, and they could entertain a pack of cousins and aunts and uncles at that dining room table? Would that be so bad?
It might be tough sometimes, but if it would make her happy?
He reached his truck at the bottom of the driveway, glancing at a sleek silver BMW on the street, where a man sat behind the wheel, reading his phone. His window was open, and when he looked up, he caught Declan’s gaze.
Oh, what the hell? Suddenly feeling magnanimous and even a little bit proud of the property that brought people from far and wide, Declan lifted a hand in greeting. “S’up, man?”
“Just admiring the house,” he said.
“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” Well, there were some words he never thought he’d speak, but they felt kind of good on his lips.
“Sure is,” the man said. “Has she made any decisions about the sale yet?”
The sale? He slowed his step. “Are you the guy who made an offer?” he guessed.
The man stared back at him, not answering right away. “Depends on who’s asking.” He angled his head, showing a thin face under his wire-framed glasses. “Not sure I want the free world to know I made it.”
“I’m not the free world,” he ass
ured the man. “I’m a friend of the owners.”
He nodded, eyeing Declan. “Well, the offer was serious. Does she know that?”
“She mentioned it to me.”
“I was thinking about asking again, but…” He shrugged. “I really don’t want to be pushy or rude. I love the house.” He laughed. “And I love the woman I’m marrying,” he added. “She wants this house so bad, she begged me to take pictures of it in all lighting.”
Suddenly, the thought of another couple living here kind of squeezed Declan in the gut.
The other man held up his phone as evidence. “But you know what it’s like when you find a woman you’d do anything for.”
He sure as hell did, and the fact that some stranger was echoing his thoughts? Gramma Finnie would say, “God can speak to you through anyone, lad.”
“Well, she knows your offer was legitimate,” Declan said, taking a few steps into the street and closer to the car, curious about this rich, generous man who might waltz into the life Declan could have had. “But I wouldn’t bother her tonight or, really, until she’s ready, which could be a while.” Especially if she gets…pregnant.
“Oh, yeah, sure. Do not disturb. Got it, man. Thanks.” He reached to turn on the ignition as if to underscore how he wasn’t planning to disturb anyone. “I’m Jim, by the way. And you?”
“Declan Mahoney.” He walked closer to the car and extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Jim.”
He hesitated a second, then reached his right hand out, giving Declan a glimpse of a tattooed forearm. “I do not want to overstep my bounds,” the man said. “But if it’s ever possible to see the inside, I’d love to. I mean, I totally understand her situation and all, but when she’s ready, maybe she’d feel more comfortable letting a stranger in if you’re in the house, too. I could bring my fiancée.”
And then he’d up his offer to three million, and Declan’s stupid little fantasies would get buried in cash. Not to mention that without the house, would Evie have any reason to stay here so they could get from where they were now to where they were destined to be?
“Or not,” the man added quickly, obviously sensing hesitation.
Declan had zero right to try to stop this potential sale. It wasn’t his house. It wasn’t even Evie’s, for crying out loud. “No, no. I’ll ask her. She has your number, right?”
“Yeah, but you should have it, too.” He reached toward the glove box, and out of habit and training, Declan followed his right hand with his gaze. It landed on black ink in the distinct shape of a bell on his forearm, the tattoo detailed enough to have been done by a real artist. “Here you go.”
He handed Declan a cream-colored card with raised black letters. “Thanks, Jim. I’ll, uh, put in a word for you.”
“That’s great, Declan.” He nodded and slid the gearshift into drive. “And sorry to bother you.”
“No, it’s fine. Take your pictures.” He stepped away and glanced at the card as he crossed the street. James Bell, Consultant. Bell…like the tattoo.
Declan tucked it into his pocket, and when he did, his fingers brushed another card. He pulled that one out and slid into the driver’s seat of his truck, looking at the business card in one hand and his decades-old promise in the other.
“Sorry, Jimbo.” He tossed the business card into the cupholder, where it would be trashed next time he washed the truck.
But he unfolded the index card with reverence, slowly rereading every word.
Friend, lover, husband…and father to our
“Children,” he finished, trying to remember why he didn’t complete that sentence when he was writing out his promise. Didn’t matter. They both knew how it should end.
Then he glanced up at the house, seeing the lights on upstairs, imagining Evie chatting with her grandfather. “I promised you, E. I promised you.”
Suddenly, he understood why his world had been all wrong for twenty years. He’d made a promise, and it was time to keep it.
Chapter Twenty
“Look at him, E.” Declan kept slowing down as they walked with Judah to the physical therapy room, marveling over the change in the dog. “He’s different. Am I imagining it? I know he’s sore and moving slow, but doesn’t he seem different to you?”
“Definitely, but it’s not that unusual.” Evie had seen the transformation of thousands of animals after surgery.
“See that spark in his eye?” Declan asked.
Evie glanced up at Declan, seeing the spark in his eyes. “The chronic pain is gone,” she said, taking his hand. “He instinctively knows that stiffness he feels is temporary.”
“Wow.” Declan stopped as they reached the door to the physical therapy room, pulling her closer by their joined hands to add, “You’re magic, you know that?”
She laughed. “I’m a trained professional,” she told him. “No different than when you put out a fire. It’s what you do.”
He studied her for a moment, then guided Judah into the room that was empty except for a tech working with a small cat on a ramp across the room. “I kind of feel the same as he does.”
“You do?”
“Like the chronic pain got fixed.” He held her gaze, his own so full of meaning she could practically read his thoughts.
“And that stiffness?” she joked.
He winked. “Pretty sure you can fix that, too.”
She laughed as they walked in, her own step lighter than it had been in a long, long time. Was it possible? Had that discussion about a baby somehow surgically removed the cause of all their pain for twenty years? The thing that had made them both want to howl in pain like Judah?
Watching Declan drop to the floor and get in Judah’s face, teasing and talking gently to the dog, she started to believe it.
“Hey, bud,” he whispered to the dog.
Judah responded by leaning forward to swipe that humongous tongue along Declan’s cheek, making them both laugh.
“He’s thanking you,” she told him.
“I didn’t do it,” Declan said to Judah. “It was all her. That one.” He pointed to Evie. “The gorgeous one who changes lives with a knife.”
“Actually, a drill.”
“Even sexier.”
The compliment sent a zing through Evie, who slid into a guest chair, kind of itching to pull out her phone and take a picture of Declan and Judah face-to-face on the floor. Suddenly, Judah got down on his belly and lifted his gaze up to Declan, swatting his paw on the ground.
“He’s telling you he wants to play.”
“Oh, you can’t do that, big man.” But Declan slid down to his belly, too, staying eye to eye. “Couple of weeks, maybe, and we’ll have you running with the rest of the pack at Waterford Farm.” He put a gentle hand on the dog’s head, studying his eyes. “You happy, Judah? I think you’re happy. I’m happy, too.”
Her heart rolled around helplessly as she watched the two of them, hearing him admit to a change she could see in both of them.
Feeling the need to join in, Evie slipped off the chair and got down on her belly with them. Instantly, Declan reached for her hand, tugging her into his private space with Judah, pulling her close so the three of them were in a little circle.
“Here’s your doctor,” he said to the dog. “Dolittle. She gets you like no one else.” He inched forward and let his nose touch Judah’s. “Me, too, by the way.”
Evie turned her head to look at him. “You think?”
“I know.” He angled his head so his forehead touched hers. And Judah joined right in, sticking his snout between them.
“What a sweet little family.” They all moved back at the woman’s voice, turning to see Christine in the doorway.
“Oh, hi,” Evie said, pushing up. “We’re just…” What were they doing? Acting like a sweet little family. “Hanging out with Judah,” she finished.
“Who is doing so well. I’m Christine, the physical therapist,” she said to Declan as he pushed up to a stand.
“Decla
n Mahoney.” He shook her hand.
“And after you get a little PT, Judah?” Christine leaned over to greet the dog. “You’ll be running circles around these two parents of yours.”
Declan and Evie shared a quick look, his expression matching the thrill that shot through her. Parents.
Every minute, the possibility felt more real and right.
“Okay, then, let me walk you through his program.” Christine brought them over to a ramp. “This is where we’ll do some puppy push-ups.”
As she described the process, Evie tried to listen, but Declan’s very presence distracted her. She stood next to him, asking questions and listening and feeling so very much like…parents.
And he was right. It felt so good and natural.
“Ideally,” Christine said, walking them toward an incline ramp, “we’d get Judah on an underwater treadmill every day.”
“For dogs?” Declan asked. “I’ve seen them in some firefighting training gyms.”
“Absolutely,” Christine said. “By submerging his lower body, the buoyancy of the water decreases gravity and really improves and hastens the training, but we can’t do that. So I recommend—”
“Why not?” Declan asked.
“We don’t have one,” she said. “We used to, but it went kaput. There’s an equipment request on file, but the budget won’t be approved until next semester.”
Evie certainly understood that. Budgeting and purchasing at a college were done on the semester schedule, so if it hadn’t been approved for fall, it wouldn’t be here until spring. Which sucked because she knew that was one piece of equipment that could really help fix Judah’s gait.
“Where’s the closest facility that has one?” she asked.
“That doesn’t have a monthlong waiting list? Hours away, I’m afraid.”
Declan threw a look at Evie, clearly not happy with that. “But if it’s ideal, how does not having one affect his recovery?”
Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers Book 6) Page 21
