He nodded, acceptance and understanding clear in his eyes. “Fair enough.”
Chapter 7
“You’re moving in with him?” The shock on Lacy’s face was almost comical. Her eyes had grown as wide as a compact disc, her skin had taken on an almost deathly shade of pale, and her mouth hung open so wide it could have fit around a watermelon. Okay, maybe not a watermelon but definitely a cantaloupe or a large grapefruit.
“Yep,” Veronica answered simply, hefting a large suitcase into the trunk of her car.
“Are you crazy!”
“Probably.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Lacy leaned against the rear fender, crossed her arms below her breast, and pinned Veronica with a potent glare.
“Probably not.”
“What are your parents going to say?”
Of all the questions Lacy lashed out at her, the last was the only one to make her pause. “I have no idea what Mom will say. Dad, on the other hand, will have puppies.” She slammed the truck, propped her elbows on the warm metal, and rested her chin on her fists. “Maybe they will be cute ones. I wonder what the pet deposit is at the condos. Do they even allow pets?”
“Ve-ron-ica!” Lacy growled through clinched teeth.
“Okay, okay.” Veronica laughed, straightened and held up a hand in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “I know it’s a little sudden—”
“A little!” Lacy all but screeched the words.
“Very sudden,” Veronica amended, because it definitely was. Moving in with Dean Wolcott was a quick, impulsive decision that she had given very little thought. She wasn’t allowing herself to think, and she certainly wasn’t allowing herself to feel. She had grown afraid of what she might discover if she did.
“I know you don’t want to stay here with your parents, and I completely understand why. But is moving in with Dean—or any man for crying out loud—really the answer? Your parents aren’t moving back to town. They are only returning for a visit.”
“A visit that has no time limit,” Veronica reminded and stepped around the back end of the car, then began walking up the pathway to the front door of the house.
“But you can have your own condo in a month,” Lacy continued to object as she followed closely at Veronica’s heels. “One month isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things.”
“Under my parents’ roof, one month will be like a lifetime sentence to death!”
“And you think one month under Dean’s roof isn’t going to be a lifetime sentence to something?”
Veronica stopped in the entryway, turned back to face her friend. “It’s what he wants. He told me so last night.”
Lacy opened her mouth, closed it. Her mind visibly switched tracks. The shock that had been so evident in her expression was now gone, replaced by a look Veronica couldn’t name. “Is that what you want?”
She was really beginning to hate that question. First Dean, then herself, now Lacy, suddenly what she wanted seemed to be the most important thing in the world to everyone but herself. Wasn’t that odd? Wasn’t she supposed to be worried about what she wanted more than anyone or anything else? Yet, to do that, she first had to let herself feel.
Oh, she had been feeling all right. She felt the independence she had developed in her life, felt the control she now possessed over herself. And she had been feeling Dean. Ah, yes. She had definitely been feeling Dean. But she hadn’t focused on what she felt about Dean, how she felt about him.
He obviously had been. He had focused on her. He wanted her. But not just in bed, not just for sex. He wanted her for a partner, for a mate, for a wife! Getting married again wasn’t something she thought of even in the quickest of passing since losing Robert. God, there was no way she could think about that now. She couldn’t marry a man she only knew a week. Okay, scratch that. She had known Dean far longer than a week. More like most of her life. Not in the ways that she knew him now. In the short time they had been together, she now knew not only his body—every delicious, glorious contour of his body—but she was getting to know his mind and his heart as well.
And he was getting into hers, she realized. That change, she felt but quickly ignored yesterday. A chill snaked over her bringing goose pimples to the surface of her flesh. Dammit. That was why she hadn’t allowed herself to really think. She didn't want to know that he was getting to her, didn't want to deal with the way he got to her. She only wanted the lust, the sex, and the spark. She didn't want love or anything remotely close to it. Yet, that was what she got and exactly what he asked for in return.
“No,” she finally said, but the simple word didn’t feel right, didn’t even sound right to her own ears. “Maybe,” she amended. “I want him. I’ve wanted him since we were kids. Right now, I at least know that much. He’s amazing, Lacy,” she said when she saw the undisguised amusement and surprise in her friend’s eyes. “He makes me feel…I can’t describe the way he makes me feel. I’m so hot for the man I feel like a walking inferno!”
“You and Dean Wolcott.” Lacy shook her head, but she grinned from ear to ear. “Who would have ever thought?”
* * * *
“How was school today, sport?” Dean asked Timmy as he helped the boy into the truck.
“Cool!” Timmy said with undisguised excitement. “We went on a field trip to J. L. Scott. It was awesome! There was all kinds of fish and sharks, and I even got to pet a tiger shark!”
Dean stopped in the motion of closing the passenger door. The kid had petted a tiger shark? No. That couldn’t be right. He quickly searched his mind for a shark with a similar name, one that didn’t attempt to take a chuck out of someone who tried to touch it. “Do you mean a leopard shark?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it.”
Feeling a silly relief wash over him, Dean chuckled, helped the kid fasten his seatbelt, and shut the door. “Do you have any homework tonight?” he asked as he climbed in behind the wheel.
“A little. Mom will help me when she gets home.”
“Actually, you’ll be staying the night with me.”
Timmy’s head whipped around, his eyes growing wide, and he looked even more excited then he had about his field trip if that were possible. “Really? I get to spend the night with you?”
“Yep.” Dean nodded and pulled out of the school parking lot.
“But what about Mom? Why am I staying with you? Is something wrong with my mom?”
Though Dean’s eyes were glued to the road in front of him, he immediately picked up on the fear and worry in the boy’s voice. He reached over, ruffled the boy’s hair with his palm. “You’re mom is fine. She’s working late again, and then when she gets off, she has a date.”
“A date! Like, with a man.”
I hope it’s with a man , Dean thought, but he laughed and said, “Yeah, a date with a man.”
“No way. Mom doesn’t date men. She doesn’t date no one.”
“Anyone,” Dean automatically corrected. “And that’s what she told me when she called to ask if you could stay with me.” Though Timmy’s mother had insisted she wouldn’t be out all night, she didn’t know how late she would be and didn't want to get Timmy out late on a school night. She had been ready to refuse the date, but Dean insisted she go, offered to not only baby-sit Timmy for a few hours, but to keep him for the night. He would take the kid home in time to prepare for school in the morning.
“It’s a good thing, huh? Mom going on a date,” Timmy qualified. “She’s never done that, but if she’s doing it now, that means I may get a daddy. Right?”
Whoa ! Slow down there, kid. Was that why his mother never accepted dates? Because Timmy instantly became attached to men, longing to have a father figure in his life? Dean had simply thought she didn’t have time or was afraid to leave Timmy with a sitter. He really didn’t get into Tina’s private life. He was there for Timmy, to be a friend and a male figure in the boy’s life. As long as Dean knew the boy was taken care of—and it was easy to see that
despite his mom’s working hours, Timmy was well taken care of—that was all that mattered.
“It doesn’t exactly work that way,” he told the boy slowly, carefully, not yet ready to have a conversation about the workings of men and women with a seven-year-old. “Your mom will go out with this guy tonight. If things go well…If she likes him, she may go on another date with him and another and another. If they like each other well enough, then maybe months or even a year or so down the road, they may talk about getting married.”
“It’ll take that long?” Disappointment rang in Timmy’s voice.
“It could.” Dean nodded. “People don’t just meet and get married. They have to get to know one another first, see if they like each other, fall in love…That sort of stuff.”
“You know my mom. And you like her. Don’t you?”
Alarm bells louder than any Dean ever heard sounded in his head. “I do,” he said slowly, afraid to hear where the kid was going with this though he already knew.
“You’ve known her for a long, long time. Why haven’t you fallen in love with her?”
Yep. That’s exactly where Dean feared the boy was going. Now, how to make him understand? Dean sighed, hesitated for a moment too long.
“She’s not your type, huh?”
Dean looked at the kid and suddenly saw wisdom in his eyes that Dean hadn’t known he possessed at such a young age. He smiled. “You’re mom is a very nice woman. I like to think of her as a friend.”
“But you’re not hot for her?”
Dean made a sound that was a half cough and half laugh and actually struggled to keep his eyes on the road as he made the turn onto the Green Leaf Condominiums property. “Hot for her?” he repeated more to himself than to Timmy. He knew exactly what the kid meant. What surprised him was that Timmy obviously knew what Timmy meant.
“Yeah. Richie Metcaff says when a boy likes a girl, he’s got the hots for her. Richie’s big brother, Josh, is hot for this girl named Samantha.”
“Well, if Richie says that’s what it’s called, then I guess he must be right.”
“So are you?”
Still amazed by the course the conversation had taken, Dean was momentarily confused by the boy’s question. “Am I what?”
Timmy heaved a sigh, and when he spoke, it was in a tone that clearly said, ‘duh.’ “Hot for my mom?”
“No. I’m not hot for her,” Dean answered honestly.
“I wish you were. You would be pretty cool to have for a dad.”
Dean’s heart swelled so big he thought it would pop out of his chest. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. Knowing his roots, how his own father had treated him, he had often been afraid to want children, scared to his toes that he would turn out like his father. Obviously Timmy didn’t think so. Timmy thought he would make a good dad. He felt a wide smile curve his lips as he whipped the truck into the driveway in front of his condo and bet he looked as goofy as he felt inside at that moment but didn’t care.
He turned off the engine, angled his body in the seat to look at Timmy. “Who do you have the hots for?”
“Eww.” The boy wrinkled his nose as if completely disgusted by the thought. “No one. That’s gross!”
“Not into girls yet, huh, sport?” Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry. That will change in a few years.”
“No way. Not me,” Timmy shook his head vehemently.
“Ah, you say that now but, mark my words, in a few years, you’re going to see a girl and step on your tongue trying to get to her.”
“Who do you have the hots for?” Timmy asked, turning Dean’s own words around on him.
Taking the cue, Dean did the same…or attempted to at least. “Eww. No one. That’s gross!” he said in his best Timmy impersonation, both voice and expression.
“Yeah right.” Timmy rolled his eyes.
“What makes you think I’m hot for anyone?”
“You’re old. Old guys like women.”
Old? Ouch. That stung . But it was also true. Timmy would know that for certain all too soon when Veronica came over. He hadn’t talked to her since they parted ways that morning—him reporting to the station for his shift and she off to, first, her parents’ house to change and then to open the store—though it wasn’t from lack of trying. He had phoned the store twice after Timmy’s mother called the station, but each time it was Judy who answered.
Veronica had been with a customer the first time he called. He let a couple of hours pass before trying again only to have Judy tell him that Veronica just left for the day. Apparently, she felt comfortable enough with her employee to let Judy close the store. Dean then tried her parents’ house but got the answering machine. Resigned, he left a message but kept it short and sweet. They would have company—young company—tonight, he had told the machine. Be on your best behavior. In other words, don’t show up at the house wearing a trench coat covering a barely there teddy and g-string. It sounded like something Veronica would do. Not that he would mind under different circumstances…
“Her name is Veronica,” Dean told Timmy now. He got out of the truck, walked around to help the boy out then they walked to the door. “She should be home shortly.”
“She lives with you?”
He hadn’t realized exactly what he said until Timmy called him on it. But it was true. Veronica was moving in with him. This would be her home now…for the next month anyway. It would be up to him to make sure that month lasted far longer than thirty-one days.
* * * *
Veronica’s first night officially living under Dean’s roof was absolutely nothing like she expected it to be. She figured they would be alone, of course. She imagined the two of them putting something together for dinner in the kitchen, then settling at the dining room table to eat before kicking back on the sofa with a glass of wine and a romantic movie, which would be followed by hours of tangling in the sheets until they drifted off to sleep.
Well, they were putting something together for dinner in the kitchen, she mused as she sliced a cucumber for the garden salad she prepared. Only they had an extra set of hands—a set of very small, very young hands. They would eat at the dining room table, but it would be a table set for three instead of two. The movie—her ears tuned in momentarily to the soft sounds coming from the television in the living room—would obviously be one of the animated variety. As for the tangling, obviously that would not make it into the night’s agenda.
That was okay, she told herself as she moved to the sink to wash her hands. She quickly dried them on a dishtowel, snagged the salad bowl from the countertop and carried it to the dining room table, placed it in the center. She was headed back to the kitchen for the dish of mixed vegetables she prepared when a voice drifted to her from outside the opened sliding glass door. Dean and Timmy stood on the back patio grilling chicken breasts. It wasn’t the voice that made her stop to listen but the words.
“I like her,” Timmy said in a tone that told her he wasn’t the least bit concerned with being overheard. “She’s cool, and she’s got an awesome car!”
Dean chuckled and spoke a bit more softly but not too low for her to hear. “Yeah, she does.”
“Are you going to marry her?”
There was a long pause in which the rapid pounding of her heart was the only sound to fill the silence. Then Dean answered. “I hope to…one day.”
“In about a year or so?”
“If I have my way, it won’t be that long.”
“Cause you already know you like her and she likes you, huh?” Timmy said. “Next you have to fall in love before you can get married. Are you in love with her?”
Veronica’s heart tripped, nearly stopped, and then began to pound so loudly it nearly drowned out the conversation. She shouldn’t be listening anyway. Dean and Timmy were having a private talk. No matter that the talk was about her. But she couldn’t pull herself away, couldn’t make herself walk to the kitchen where she wouldn’t be able to hear them, couldn’t
make herself do anything but listen.
“Yes. I am in love with her,” Dean said.
“Then you’re going to marry her. That’s what comes next, right?”
“Not quite. First, I have to find out if she is in love with me.”
“I could ask her.”
“No!” Dean’s gasp was followed by a soft laugh. “She’ll tell me when she’s ready. I have to give her time.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know, son.”
“I hope it isn’t a long time.”
“Yeah, me too.” Dean sighed and then he said, “Looks like the chicken is ready to come off the grill.”
“What’s the brown stuff?”
Veronica didn’t stick around for the answer, figuring Timmy referred to the darkened marks as grill’s grates made on food. She forced herself to return to the kitchen, her mind reeling, her insides swarming with so many different emotions, she couldn’t separate one from another. Dean was in love with her. She didn’t know why that surprised her. He told her he wanted her.
I want exclusivity, a real relationship, a commitment, marriage, kids, the works .
But he hadn’t told her that he loved her. He had told Timmy. Because he gave her the time she asked for, she knew. He gave her time to be certain of her feelings for him.
She did have feelings for him. That much she could admit. How deeply those feelings ran, however, she couldn’t yet say. It was all happening so fast. Yet, that was her own fault, wasn’t it? She had been the one who advanced on him the first time they were together and she had continued to pursue him until she found herself here, living in his house, standing in his kitchen making the side dishes for a dinner they would share with a young child.
She had been looking for fun, excitement, spice, and sex. Well, she definitely found that, hadn’t she? But in her quest, she found so much more?
“Chicken’s done,” Timmy’s voice rang out.
Veronica turned, the dish of mixed vegetables in her hands, to find the boy standing in the kitchen doorway. But it was Dean standing beside him that she focused on. Their gazes locked, met and she could see when he realized that she had overheard the conversation, that she had heard him say he loved her.
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