His-And-Hers Family

by Helen Lacey

  She looked at Cecily and managed a smile. Her precious daughter wouldn’t be tainted by the brutality and shame of her conception. Fiona would see to that with ever fiber of her being. “I was young and didn’t have a lot of support at home. But if I hadn’t met him, you wouldn’t be here...and I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

  Cecily’s eyes glistened and she hugged the dog close. “I’m going to miss Muffin when I have to leave. Pop’s got working dogs for the cattle and they’re too big to pick up.”

  “I’m sure she’ll miss you, too.” Like I will. Fiona didn’t dare let herself think about the day she would have to let her daughter go.

  “You could come visit us at Waradoon.”

  She nodded, but in her heart she knew it wasn’t likely. Her life was in Crystal Point. Cecily’s life was at Waradoon. She would have to make do with school-vacation time to see her daughter. It would have to be enough.

  * * *

  Wyatt flipped his cell phone into his top pocket once he finished a call to his office. He and Cecily were due at Fiona’s in an hour. He tried to ignore the anxiety filling his chest. He hadn’t seen Fiona all week—at her request. He respected her wishes and didn’t push the issue. Her impassioned words that morning were imprinted in his mind. She didn’t want recriminations. She didn’t want to discuss it. End of story.

  But tonight was their Christmas-in-July celebration, and he didn’t want to disappoint Cecily. Wyatt pushed past his battered ego and agreed they would spend the evening together.

  It was near half past six when he stopped the rental car in her driveway behind her zippy Mazda. The porch light flickered and she opened the door as Cecily jumped out of the passenger seat. His niece was across the yard and up the three steps within seconds, and he watched as they embraced and Fiona dropped her head back as she laughed. His stomach rolled over. Great start.

  He grabbed the bag from the backseat and headed for the two redheads in his life.

  Cecily quickly disappeared inside, and to her credit, Fiona managed a smile as he approached. “Hi. Welcome.”

  “Thanks.” He followed her across the threshold and closed the screen door. “Interesting tree,” he said once they moved into the living room.

  She shifted on her heels and her dress moved around her legs. “It’s fiber-optic,” she explained. “Cecily insisted.”

  “Saves having to store the decorations, I guess,” he said and passed her the brown bag he carried. “From the organic deli in town.”

  She peered into the bag and bit her bottom lip as she examined the contents of Brie and crackers and antipasto ingredients. “Great, that’s my favorite spot.”

  “I know,” he replied. “Evie mentioned something.”

  She looked nervous all of a sudden. “Wyatt, I want to—”

  “Hey, guys,” Cecily announced as she bounced back into the room with Muffin in her arms. “Can we watch a Christmas DVD?”

  Fiona sucked in a long breath. “Good idea. You pick a movie, and I’ll get the drinks and snacks started.”

  She took off and Wyatt dropped into the love seat. He certainly had no intention of going anywhere near the sofa. He doubted he’d ever be able to look at the paisley print again without seeing Fiona stretched out in seductive invitation. And he wished she’d stop wearing that sexy perfume. Damn scent hit him with the force of a sledgehammer every time she came near him.

  It was close to ten minutes before she came back into the room. She did three trips and placed trays of food on the coffee table and drinks on the buffet nearby. He offered to help but she insisted she had it under control. She poured three glasses of something he couldn’t distinguish, but which looked as if it had clumps of fruit in it, and placed them on the coffee table. When she was done, she sat in one corner of the sofa. Cecily sat in the middle and demanded he sit on the other side.

  “You won’t see the television from there,” his niece complained. “I know how much you looove Christmas movies.”

  Wyatt looked toward Fiona. She smiled and flicked her gaze to the other end of the sofa. Get a grip. He moved and sat down, feeling light-years away from her.

  “Not a fan, huh?” she asked and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Cecily’s lap.

  “You could say that.”

  “Me, either,” she admitted as the movie credits began to roll.

  Cecily shushed them both and sat forward to pocket some chocolate. Then she slid off the edge, sat lotus-style in between the sofa and table, and began to graze on the selection of fruit and cheese and assorted food spread out in front of her.

  Wyatt looked at Fiona. Being with her seemed incredibly normal. That was what struck him so hard. And so unexpectedly. She was easy to be with. Easy to like. What had started as physical attraction had morphed into something else. And the feelings were alien to him. He was somehow vulnerable.

  Was that what mind-blowing sex did to a man’s brain?

  He reached across the back of the sofa and lightly touched her shoulder. She smiled as only she could. Wyatt wished he knew her better. He also wished he wasn’t cynical and could trust what he was feeling. But he didn’t. And he suspected Fiona knew as much.

  Chapter Nine

  Family.

  That’s what this feels like.

  A mother, a father, a cheerful teenager plonked between them downing popcorn and laughing at a silly movie. Fiona knew it was a fantasy. But in that moment, it was real. And it was hers.

  Wyatt’s touch was mesmerizing. His hand stayed at her shoulder for a while, and he drew tiny circles with his thumb. She knew she shouldn’t allow it. But it seemed right, somehow. When she moved to take her drink off the table, he pulled back.

  Once the movie was over, Cecily insisted on opening a gift. Just one, she said, to tide them over until the following day. Her daughter’s insistence that they follow the traditional Christmas protocol made her smile. Fiona sat on the love seat and summoned the heart to enjoy the celebration. Wyatt took a spot on an old chair next to the tree, and her daughter dropped onto the floor. Cecily opened one of the gifts Fiona gave her—a silver pendant in the shape of a dazzling unicorn. She adored it, thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  “It’s one of a kind,” Fiona explained. “My friend Mary-Jayne is a silversmith.”

  “A talented lady,” Wyatt said and admired the piece.

  “She’s Evie’s little sister. I’ll get her to craft a pair of matching earrings,” she told Cecily. “For your birthday.”

  Cecily groaned. “But that’s ages away.”

  Fiona looked at Wyatt. “I know the date,” she said and quickly changed the subject. “So, who’s next?”

  Cecily grabbed a gift from beneath the tree and tossed it toward her uncle. He squeezed the package. “Socks?”

  Cecily laughed. “Nope. Fiona said they were off the list this year.”

  He mouthed a silent thank-you and tore open the gift. Not socks but a soft blue T-shirt she knew would look great on him.

  “Now you,” Cecily insisted and dragged the square package that was leaning against the wall.

  Fiona rested the gift against her knees. They were both watching her—the child she loved and the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with.

  The gift was from Wyatt, and as she pulled off the paper and realized what he’d given her, Fiona’s eyes welled with tears. The portrait of Cecily was an exact likeness, framed in polished oak. “Oh...it’s so...” She looked at Wyatt. “It’s perfect. How did you—”

  “Ellen,” he explained. “My sister is the artist. She did this piece a few months back. I thought you might like it.”

  “I love it,” she said quickly. I love you. “Thank you. It’s more than I ever expected.”

  “Gosh, I look like you,” C
ecily said as she came behind Fiona and peered at the portrait. “Don’t I, Uncle Wyatt?”

  He kept his gaze locked with hers. “Yes. Double trouble.”

  Cecily laughed. It was such a heart-wrenching moment, and Fiona wanted to bottle up the memories. For another day, another time, when she was alone again.

  “Who’s up for supper?” she asked and blinked at the tears in her eyes.

  “Not me,” Cecily groaned out as she patted her full tummy. “Too much punch and popcorn. I think I’m going to crash for a while in the spare room.”

  She left with a hug for them both and took off down the short hallway.

  “She exhausts me,” Fiona declared as she slumped back in the love seat.

  He grinned and checked his watch. “Nine-thirty,” he commented. “And now we have no chaperone. Would you like me to leave?”

  “No,” she said in a rush and then exhaled. “I mean, we hardly need a chaperone.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not so sure.”

  Fiona did her best to ignore the simmering heat low in her belly. But in low-rise jeans and a black Henley shirt, he looked so good, so handsome, it was impossible to forget how passionately they’d made love only days earlier.

  “I told you why I can’t do this,” she said quietly.

  Wyatt stood up. “I know what you said. I’m just not entirely sure that’s how you feel.”

  Fiona sucked in a sharp breath. Did he know she had fallen in love with him? Am I that transparent? “I have to put Cecily first. Not myself.”

  “So you said.”

  “You’re leaving in ten days, Wyatt. I might come across as independent and self-sufficient, but the truth is I’m not the kind of woman who thinks it’s okay to sleep with someone casually.”

  His expression narrowed. “I’m not indiscriminate, either, Fiona. I’ve had one brief relationship since I broke up with Yvette. I don’t sleep around.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you—”

  “I have no intention of ignoring you for the next ten days,” he said quietly. “I’d like it if you showed me the same courtesy.”

  Shame weighed down her shoulders. He was right. She had been ignoring him. “I’m sorry. My only excuse is I’m afraid of messing things up with Cecily.”

  “You won’t,” he assured her. “Have some faith in yourself, Fiona. And trust Cecily.”

  “I’ve never been very good at trusting people.”

  Wyatt moved across the room and dropped onto the sofa. “Not surprising.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose. I did try to love my mother. But I didn’t trust her to make the right choices.” She gave a brittle laugh. “And she rarely let me down. I can’t remember how many times I was dragged out of hotel rooms at dawn because she didn’t have the money to pay the bill. Or how many cowboys she rolled over while they were asleep. I used to watch her steal money from their pockets and she’d tell me to be quiet when I begged her not to do it. Bad hotel rooms, short spells in one school or another... I never had the opportunity to make friends. And there was no point when we moved around so much. When she died, I think a part of me was...was...”

  “Relieved?”

  Fiona nodded and marveled at how easy it was to tell him things she’d always kept to herself. Not even Callie and Evie knew so much about her childhood.

  This is it. This is trust. This is love.

  “I’m not proud to think like that, but it’s true. My uncle...well, he tried. He did the best he could, the best he knew how, I suppose. That’s why it’s so important I make the right choices now. I want Cecily to know I’m not a screwup.”

  “Acting on our mutual attraction doesn’t make you a screwup, Fiona.”

  “Maybe,” she said in a halfhearted sort of agreement. “All I know is that I am determined to be a good role model. I know in my heart your sister will always be her mother. I only hope I can be Cecily’s friend, the woman she goes to when she needs guidance. Soon she’ll be thinking about boys and love and sex. When she asks those questions, I want to be able to tell her that making love should be special...should be shared between two people who are in love.”

  Fiona looked at him, hoping, dreaming and wishing for some sign that he thought that, too. She’d made love with him because she loved him. Clearly for Wyatt it was little more than attraction. Mutual attraction, he’d called it. Not love. Only sex.

  “You’re right, of course,” he said after a moment, and Fiona wished she knew what his impassive, locked-out expression meant. “And she should talk to you about that stuff.”

  “As long as I steer her in the right direction?”

  His mouth twisted. “I want her to realize her potential. Be whoever she’s meant to be.”

  “I want that, too. And again, I apologize for being shut down this week. We were both part of what happened. I didn’t mean to make a bigger deal of it than it was. I don’t want there to be tension between us. Especially since Cecily picked up on it.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah. She doesn’t want us to fight. She doesn’t like arguing.” Fiona inhaled and met his gaze head-on. “Her parents fought in the few months before their deaths. I know you said it was nothing, but it meant something to Cecily. She’s still disturbed by it.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” he said and shifted in his seat. “So, how about that supper you promised?”

  “Hungry?”

  He glanced at the remnants of food on the coffee table. “A man cannot live by popcorn alone. Allow me into your kitchen and I’ll make you a sandwich you’ll never forget.”

  Fiona laughed and then jumped up and straightened her dress over her hips. “Deal.”

  Fifteen minutes later, after she cleared away the scraps from the living room, Wyatt had loaded a plate with sandwiches filled with thick slices of ham and sweet pickles and a few with smoked turkey breast and cranberry jelly. He popped the plate in the center of the table, and Fiona grabbed two bottles of ginger beer from the refrigerator.

  “Looks great,” she said and sat down.

  Wyatt grabbed a sandwich and devoured it in four bites.

  There was an easy camaraderie between them. She liked it. Men usually made her nervous. But she had no nerves. Not even the underlying thread of sexual desire curling around the room made her tense. He wouldn’t act on it; she knew that without question. He would respect her wishes. Wyatt oozed integrity by the bucket load.

  “I guess we should talk about contact,” she said after a few bites of her sandwich. “With Cecily. I would like to see her again on the next school vacation if that’s okay with you.”

  He grabbed another sandwich. “You can see as much of Cecily as she wants.”

  Fiona’s heart rolled. “Thank you for being so supportive. It means a lot to me.”

  “Cecily wants you in her life,” he said around a bite. “Incidentally, you are welcome to visit Waradoon anytime. My mother will want to meet you. Sooner would be better than later.”

  Now Fiona was nervous. “Will she disapprove?”

  “Of you?” He gave a lopsided grin. “Hardly.”

  Relief washed over her skin. “I’d like that.”

  Wyatt drank some ginger beer and patted his washboard-flat stomach. “I should probably check on Cecily. If she’s crashed out, she may as well stay the night.”

  “Of course.”

  He stood and scraped the chair back. “Then I’ll head off.”

  Fiona quickly got to her feet. “You could stay,” she said and saw both his brows crank upward. “I mean, the sofa’s pretty comfortable, and Cecily will want you to be here in the morning when she wakes up. And...I’d like that, too.”

  His mouth twisted and he went to say something, then stopped and took a moment. “If you’re sure.”

  �
��I’m sure,” she said quickly, before she had a chance to change her mind. “I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.”

  He flexed his arms upward and stretched. The movement pulled the T-shirt up and exposed his belly. Fiona swallowed the sudden lump that formed in her throat. She’d touched him there, kissed him and reveled in his glorious skin. Her fingers itched as the memory swept through her blood.

  Fiona took off to collect what he needed and detoured to check on Cecily. As expected, her daughter was asleep, snoring softly with Muffin curled in the crook of her arm. She called the dog, and once Muffin had jumped off the bed and shot past her feet, Fiona covered Cecily with a light blanket and flicked off the corner lamp.

  Back in the living room, Fiona faced Wyatt.

  I could so easily invite him into my bed.

  The temptation heightened her awareness. She wanted him so much she could barely breathe. She quickly dumped the pillow and blanket on the edge of the sofa. “Are you sure you’ll be—”

  “I’ll be fine. Go to bed.”

  His words had a profound effect on her senses. “But if you need—”

  “Go to bed,” he said again, deeper this time. “Before I forget my good intentions.”

  Fiona stepped back, her heart pounding. She wanted him so much. Needed him so much. Loved him so much. Denying it suddenly seemed foolish. “I want you to stay,” she whispered. “With me.”

  And within seconds she was in his arms.

  * * *

  The sofa wasn’t comfortable, as Wyatt discovered around 4:00 a.m. when he left Fiona asleep and made his way to the living room. Her big bed, with its colorful quilt and plump pillows, was a much more appealing option—especially since Fiona’s lovely arms had been wrapped around him. But he’d been struck by a burst of doing the right thing. And that meant being settled on the couch when Cecily woke up.