by Shirley Jump
“This would be a cool house to restore,” Colton said. “It would make a cool bed-and-breakfast, too.”
She scoffed. “It’s way beyond restoration. You’re better off tearing it down and building new.”
“Maybe so. But then you’d lose the history. And the little quirks that make this house what it is. I like history. Maybe because I only knew half of mine growing up.”
“And now you have a chance to know the other half.”
“I’m trying,” he said. “But my father hasn’t been very open to it. Luke thinks it’s because it’s hard for my father to deal with the stares and gossip.”
“That’s the downside to living in a small town. I can understand that.” How many times had she seen people whisper then shake their heads and look away when she had been a little girl? The rumors about her mother had been constant whispers in the background. She could understand how tough this was for Colton, for Bobby. Stone Gap could wrap around you like a warm blanket, but it could also be a cold, lonely place to live when there were secrets to keep, or people to protect.
Rachel shook her head. Maybe it was the dark rooms, or the fact that Colton still had his arm around her, but she suddenly felt vulnerable and scared.
You’ll be safe, he’d said. Did he mean the same thing if she opened up to him, if she told this man—who was, after all, practically a stranger still—all the guilty feelings and regrets that crowded on her shoulders every day? The emotional burdens that kept her rooted firmly in that little hardware store?
“I can understand that because when I was growing up my mom was an alcoholic,” she said quietly. “And people talked. They saw her driving when she shouldn’t have been behind the wheel or heard her crazy outbursts at a school play, and there’d be talk. And those looks of...pity for me. Because I was her daughter.”
Colton turned until she was in his arms, and her gaze had lifted to his. In the moonlight, he seemed taller, stronger, broader. “That’s tough,” he said. “I can’t even imagine how hard that would be. No wonder you’re such a tough cookie, Rachel Morris.”
His soft words of admiration warmed her. Maybe this man, who was also in that awful club of being the one the townspeople whispered about, could understand her. “It’s why I’m so close to my dad. It’s like we formed this little team. When my mom was sober, everything was perfect and wonderful. Like a regular family. But other times...” She shrugged.
“I get it. I used to pretend my uncle was my real father. He was just a family friend, as far as I knew, but there were times when he would be over at my house, and I’d pretend that I was his son. I just wanted a father so bad, like the rest of my friends... But whenever he left, it was just me and my mom and my sister. We were a little team, just like you had with your dad, but—”
“It wasn’t the same,” she cut in, finishing his thought. “I guess we have more in common than just a love of baseball,” she said, because right now, she felt too close to him, too close to falling over some crazy edge.
“I think we have more than that in common,” he said, his voice low and dark in the dim space. He shifted closer, then raised his hand to trail along her jaw.
Hot anticipation pooled inside her. It felt like Christmas and her birthday and the first day of spring all rolled together and dipped in chocolate.
Colton leaned in, hovered over her lips for a heartbeat. “I want to kiss you again.”
“And I want you to kiss me.”
“If we do this,” he said, moving closer until his words danced across her mouth, “it might change things. One kiss can be an accident. Two is...more.”
She drew in a breath. “Do you want more?”
“I don’t know,” he said, but his gaze never left hers, those blue eyes looking like dark pools.
“That’s okay,” she whispered, “because I don’t know, either.”
She saw the flash of his smile, then he kissed her. This one was faster, harder, more insistent than the first. The kind of kiss that ignited her veins, had her surging into him, made her wonder if there was a floor in this house sturdy enough to make love on. His hands roamed down the silky fabric of her dress, sliding down her back, over the curve of her buttocks, lingering at her waist, then down again.
It was sweet, it was hot, it was one of the best kisses she’d ever had. And she never wanted it to end. But then the wind started up outside, and the house began to creak, and Colton drew back. “I think old Gareth is making his presence known. Maybe we should get out of here.”
“There’s still some things to see on the tour,” she said.
“I can’t wait.” He grinned, then he took her hand and they darted out of the house just as the walls began to shiver and the wind kicked up, blowing leaves and branches around in the yard.
A wicked storm moved in as they got in the car, canceling the rest of the tour. The rain hit the windshield faster than the wipers could keep up, and Colton drove her back at a snail’s pace. It wasn’t until they pulled up in front of her building that Rachel glanced at the time.
Nearly eleven. She’d spent four hours with this man, and it had passed as quickly as four minutes. She wanted more, but it would all have to wait.
Turning to say good-night, she suddenly felt shy. “I...I have to go. I have work to do before I go to bed.”
He ran a finger along her cheek, and she resisted the almost overpowering urge to lean into his touch. Because she knew if she did, she’d kiss him again, and then she’d never get out of this car. Never get back to the responsibilities she had temporarily ignored. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
She caught his finger in her palm. “I don’t have time in my life for this, Colton.”
“Neither do I. So let’s just have one more date and then call it quits.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously?”
“One more date, Rachel.”
She smirked. “One. No more.”
“Nope. Because I’m sure you will figure out after one more date with me that I’m not such a good catch, after all. That I have numerous bad habits...”
“Name one.”
He pretended to think it over. “I hate doing the dishes. I’d rather eat out of a take-out container than wash a plate.”
She laughed again. When had she laughed this much? With anyone? It was so wonderful, so energizing, so addictive. “That’s why God invented dishwashers.”
“And I can’t dance. What kind of Southern man can’t dance?”
“One who lets the girl lead,” she said then pressed a quick kiss to his lips and dashed out of the car before she was tempted to stay much, much longer.
Chapter Six
Bobby Barlow stared at his two sons, who were standing in his kitchen with their arms crossed over their chests. They’d shown up at the house late this afternoon, ostensibly to say hello to their mother, but after Della left for bridge with the girls, Luke and Mac had stayed behind and given him the silent treatment staredown. “What?”
“You need to see Colton,” Luke said. “He’s only in town for a few days.”
“I did see Colton.” Bobby scowled. “At Jack’s wedding, and I ran into him at the Sea Shanty the other night.”
Well, ran into him but barely talked to him. He had seen the disappointment on Colton’s face, the disapproval on Della’s face and still sat there at the table with Jerry and Stella Norton and talked about the Steelers’ chances of making it to the Super Bowl. The whole way home, Della had given him The Eye—the one that said she wasn’t pleased with what he had done, but wasn’t going to say anything. She didn’t have to. He’d been married to her for nearly thirty-five years, and he knew when she was mad, and what she was mad about.
This time, it was him. And his struggle with making his fourth son part of the family.
&nb
sp; “Family dinner is on Sunday, and I think he’s staying in town at least through the weekend,” Mac said. “Invite Colton.”
“So we can tease him,” Luke added. “And so somebody else can do the dishes afterward.”
“Great idea,” Mac whispered to his brother. “Maybe we’ll even tell him it’s customary for him to bring dessert.”
“And a case of beer.” Luke grinned.
Bobby put up his hands. He had to admire his boys for being so stubborn. He wanted to ask where they got that from, but all he had to do was look in the mirror. After all, his mother had always told him to be careful or his kids would turn out just like him. They were—but a better, stronger version of himself. “All right, all right. I’ll call him. You two don’t have to badger me about it.”
“Yeah, we do, Dad.” Mac dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. “Listen, we get that it’s hard to explain where Colton came from—”
“And the fact that you can’t say the stork dropped him off on the doorstep, because that would have to be one hell of a big stork,” Luke added.
“But he’s a good guy,” Mac went on. “And he’s part of this family now, so everyone needs to treat him as such.”
Bobby pulled three beers out of the fridge and tossed two to his sons. He unscrewed the cap, then sent it sailing into the trash. “It’s not that easy.”
“What’s not easy? You say, ‘This is Colton, he’s my son,’ end of subject.” Mac spun the beer between his palms and kept his gaze on the bottle. “People make mistakes, Dad. Your friends are going to understand that. Plus, it was more than thirty years ago.”
Bobby shook his head. “That’s not it.”
“Are you embarrassed by having Colton here?” Luke said. “Because he’s a good guy, Dad, and you need to get over that.”
Bobby could see his other two sons liked their half brother, and were ready to do whatever it took to include him in the family. They were good kids, he realized, kids that he had helped raise. Though most of the credit should go to Della, because she was the one who had kept this family running when he was busy with the shop or doing the rest of his own growing up—being that Bobby was a man like many other men, who took their sweet time settling into marriage. Without his wife, he knew he wouldn’t have been half the man he’d turned out to be, and wouldn’t have half the incredible family he had.
“I’m not embarrassed by Colton’s presence,” Bobby said. “I mean, yeah, I have to do some explaining to folks, but hell, at my age, I don’t give a rat’s ass if people like me or not. That’s not why I’m hesitating.”
Luke leaned against the fridge and crossed his arms over his chest. “Then what is it?”
Bobby sighed and ran a hand through his head. One thing about Colton appearing in his life—it was forcing him to open up. For a man who rarely talked about anything more emotional than the crushing defeat of his favorite football team, this stuff was hard. “It’s your mother.”
“What? Mom is fine with Colton. She’s been warmer than you to him, in fact.” Mac shook his head. “Don’t blame this on her.”
“I’m not.” Bobby took a swig of the beer but it didn’t do anything except delay the next sentence. He wasn’t going to tell the boys about how distant Della had been the last few days. How it seemed there was something on her mind, and how he’d avoided asking about it because he was pretty sure the topic would include the words affair, betrayal, child. He loved his wife, and if there was one thing he regretted, it was how much all of this had hurt the amazing woman who had stuck by him, even when he was being a total moron. But here she was, paying the price right alongside him. “I’m trying to keep this whole thing with Colton under wraps because I don’t want people to look badly at your mother.”
“Why would they do that?” Luke asked. Then he thought a second. “Oh...because she stayed with you through all this.”
“Yeah.” Bobby let out a sigh. He should have dealt with this years ago, so that it wouldn’t have the impact it was having now. Della deserved better than that. She probably deserved better than him, better than how casually he had treated their marriage in the early years. “People in this town love your mother. I don’t want anyone to look at her sideways because of a mistake I made.”
“They won’t, Dad, if you lead by example.” Mac put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “And Mom is stronger than you think.”
“Stronger than me,” Bobby said. And maybe it was time he changed that.
* * *
Rachel was humming when she walked into her father’s house the next morning. She’d hummed that night when she went to bed, and woke up humming. While she got ready for the day, she thought about Colton’s kiss. When she drove across town to her father’s house, she thought about Colton’s smile. And most of all, she thought about seeing Colton again tonight.
She hummed on her way into the house, the light mood lingering, even though she knew she had a huge stack of work to do, and a dying store to try to resurrect. “Good morning, Dad.”
There was no answer when she entered the house. She called out again and ducked into the kitchen, expecting to find her father in his customary seat.
But he wasn’t there. The song she’d been humming died in her throat. She turned down the hall, worry mushrooming in her chest, and stopped at her father’s room. “Dad?”
No answer.
She turned the knob and poked her head inside. Her father was lying in his bed, the shades still drawn. “Dad?”
He cleared his throat. Roused. “Sorry, honey. Not feeling well.”
She rushed over and dropped onto the side of the bed. She pressed a hand to his forehead, as if he was the child and she was the parent, but his temples were cool and dry. “What’s wrong? Did you take your heart medicine yesterday?”
He thought a minute, his brow furrowed. “I don’t remember.”
She never should have gone out last night. Never should have left before she was sure her father was okay. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back.”
Rachel chided herself the whole way into the kitchen. She fixed her father some eggs, a slice of wheat toast, then poured him a glass of orange juice and grabbed his medicine. If she had stayed last night instead of going on that date, she would have made sure her father took his medication. Would have known if he had eaten before he went to bed. She saw no new dirty dishes in the sink, which meant her father had likely gone into his room to watch TV and had fallen asleep on an empty stomach.
This was all her fault. She never should have left him. Damn it.
After her father ate and took his medication, Rachel threw in some laundry and vacuumed while Ernie washed up and got dressed for the day. She tidied the kitchen, assembled a sandwich and some grapes then set the plate in the fridge for lunch. “I’ll be back for dinner, Dad,” she said, knowing there was no way she was going out with Colton tonight. “How about I fix Mom’s meat loaf recipe?”
A soft, sad smile curved across her father’s face. “That would be nice, sweetheart. Really nice.”
She took off her apron and hung it on the hook inside the pantry. “Do you need anything else before I run over to the shop?”
“I’ve got coffee and my paper. That’s all I need.” He smiled at her. “I’m sorry you had to do all this. I don’t mean to forget, to lose track. To—” his smile faded “—rely on you so much.”
“You don’t, Dad. It’s fine, really.”
“No, it’s not.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes misty. “Sometimes I just miss her so much it hurts, and I just—”
“I understand, Dad.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.” They held gazes for a moment, then the mood lightened.
“Okay. I’ll be back later.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Just before she put her hand on the knob, her dad sp
oke up.
“Did you order the new lures for fall? Folks will be coming in soon, looking for those fancy ones I showed you in the catalog.”
It was the first time in a long time that her father had given her input about the store. “Yes, I ordered them. I only got three dozen. Do you think that’s enough?”
Her father thought a second. “Sounds about right. Tell Billy to increase his delivery of fresh bait. Once the kids go back to school, fishing picks up. It’s not so hot out there, and all those grandpas who were stuck inside with the grandkids are itching to get out on the water.”
“Sounds good, Dad.” She smiled, and the urge to hum returned again. “Sounds really good.”
* * *
Colton told himself he wasn’t going to be overly anxious. But after spending the morning at the garage helping Luke change out a transmission, then the afternoon with Mac enjoying a leisurely lunch on the water with him and his fiancée, Savannah, Colton was feeling antsy.
He called his mom and sister back in Atlanta, but changed the subject when they asked when he was coming home. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure. He’d come down to Stone Gap sure that he wouldn’t stay more than a few days, just long enough to meet his brothers and father. But as one day stretched into two, three, four, the urge to leave lessened. Maybe it had something to do with Rachel.
That’s why he wandered down to the hardware store a little after three that afternoon. He could see her car parked out back, and that made his steps quicken, his heart leap. He ducked into the shop, and like the first time, took a second to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. There was one other customer at the counter, finishing up a transaction for a new tackle box. “Here you go, Mr. Allen,” Rachel was saying. “Enjoy. And catch a record-breaker, will you?”
“I’m going to try,” the customer said. “But I doubt anyone is ever going to break your dad’s record. He’s a hell of a fisherman. I sure miss seeing him around here.”
