“I’ll do that,” Kaitlyn said instantly. “You go on out, Grandma.”
Julie fumbled in her purse for some cash. “Call now, and Elmo’s will have the pizza ready by the time you walk past.”
“Can’t you drive me?” Kaitlyn whined. “I don’t want to walk home alone carrying a pizza on a Saturday night, like some loser.”
“You’re not a loser,” Erica said. “But I get why you don’t want to walk home alone. Julie, couldn’t we drop Kaitlyn off on our way to the restaurant? We could even hit the little Greek place up the highway, if you don’t mind a drive.”
“Perfect.” Julie was happy. And it was because she wanted to get to know Erica better and offer some consolation on an evening when the younger woman was missing her mom.
It wasn’t because she could learn more from Erica about Melvin’s new squeeze. Not much, anyway.
* * *
TREY SPENT THE next week working hard at school and in PT and trying to keep a polite distance from Erica. But by Friday afternoon, he was struggling. How long could he stay aloof when she was so incredibly appealing?
He wasn’t the only one who’d worked hard all week; so had Erica, and so had the kids, who were clearly worried about the possibility that the academy program might shut down.
Today, Erica had decided that the kids needed an art day, so she’d invited one of the local painters to come in and give a lesson. She and Trey had participated, trying to figure out how to paint a seascape. His own was pathetic, and Erica’s wasn’t much better, but a couple of the boys had shown real promise.
Now, having dismissed the kids to the school’s main area, where they joined the rest of the students for their various buses, Trey and Erica were in the classroom cleaning out paintbrushes.
“You would think that a bunch of teenagers would know better than to leave such a mess,” Erica said, but she didn’t sound really mad.
“Teenagers not leaving a mess? I think that’s what would be out of character.” His hands touched hers under the cold flowing water, and the temptation to grasp on was strong. So strong that he left her to the washing up and instead walked around the room, picking up newspaper and wiping down desks.
The trouble was, she kept tugging at his heart with her passion for her work and the kids. He’d never dated anyone who was that serious about something, that committed. Most of the women he’d known—his ex-wife included—had been mainly committed to having a good time.
In a way, that was what had drawn him to them. He was overly serious and he knew it. He thought of women as part of the fun side of life, helping a guy to lighten up and have a good time after work was done.
It had never occurred to him that a man and woman could share a passion for work. That was what was happening with Erica, and it was surprisingly satisfying. Her own strong desire to serve and help the teenagers had rubbed off on him, and he found himself more and more energized by the job.
“How did your meeting with your chief go?” Erica laid the paintbrushes out on paper towels to dry. She glanced over at him. “If you don’t mind my asking. It’s really none of my business.”
“It’s okay. I have no one else to talk to about it.” He’d lost himself in the classroom enough that he hadn’t thought about it all day. Now, when he did, worry squeezed his stomach again, the way it had most of the week. “He doesn’t think I’m going to be able to be reinstated,” he said. “Among other things, he asked me how I felt about being a small-town police officer.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, if I don’t get my old job back, maybe I could look for something less intense.”
“How do you feel about that?” Erica asked.
He opened his mouth to say that it sounded way too low-key and boring, but he stopped. Was that even true anymore? Now that he was part of a small community for the first time in his life, he was starting to understand the nuances. He could see the benefits of knowing everyone you were working with, of having a small enough jurisdiction that you could keep up with people’s histories, possibly prevent crime before it started.
So maybe he didn’t know how he felt about being a small-town cop. “He said King can’t do police work anymore.”
“Oh, no!” Erica’s eyes crinkled with immediate sympathy. “I thought he was so good at it, right?”
“Yes, but my chief thinks there’s too much risk. Cochran did a bite report.”
“Bite report?” Erica put her hands on her hips. “King didn’t bite him. He may have snarled, defending himself, but Cochran is the one who should have a report against him.”
Trey’s good mood had dissolved. He might as well tell her all of it. “One of the other things he brought up is that I might not be able to continue as a volunteer myself. I’m in trouble for basically stalking Cochran.”
“Oh, no, Trey. That was my fault!” Erica stepped closer and put a hand on his sleeve. “Can I tell him? Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” Her touch felt warm, made him want her. Which sort of proved the chief’s point.
“Why is he questioning whether you should continue?”
He smiled a little, gestured toward her hand.
“What?” She pulled it away.
“People think we’re dating,” he said.
A blush climbed her face. “What people?”
“Cochran. And your principal.”
She stared at him. “O’Neil told your chief that? What does he know?”
Trey drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Look, you and I both know that we’re not dating. But...” He met her eyes and didn’t look away. “I think we also both know that there are feelings between us. Feelings that are growing, at least on my side.”
She bit her lip and then stared at the student desk they were standing by, automatically reaching down to straighten the book and ruler that were sitting atop it.
Was she going to say anything about the feelings on her side? Trey hadn’t intended a discussion to go in this direction, but now that it had, he wanted to know. He reached out and touched her chin, causing her to look at him. “Am I misreading things here?”
Her tongue flicked across her lips and she took a step backward. Looked off to the side.
Great, so he was misreading things. Just like he had a habit of doing, just like he’d done with his wife. He’d thought she really cared about him when the truth was, he had just been a fling. He was the one who talked Michelle into getting married; she would never have done it without the pressure, because she really didn’t want to be married.
“You didn’t misread it,” she said in a voice so low he had to lean closer, and even then, he wasn’t sure whether he had heard her correctly.
He drew in a breath and, with it, the fragrance of her hair, clean and flowery. It woke him up in all kinds of ways. He almost forgot what they were talking about.
“But it’s not a good idea.” Her voice was husky and she was still looking off to the side.
“It’s not a good idea.” He let his thumb skim her cheek. So soft. He leaned closer, wanting to taste her lips. Just taste them, no more, just this once.
She lifted her hands and touched his face, both sides at once, and then her fingers tangled in his hair.
She stood on tiptoes, getting closer. Their faces were inches apart.
He knew he shouldn’t. This was just what his chief had been talking about, just what he’d pledged in his mind to avoid.
But there were some forces stronger than a human male could withstand. He pulled her close and kissed her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE MOMENT TREY’S lips touched hers, all Erica’s doubts and all of her sense of caution seemed to dissipate into the classroom’s musty, paint-scented air. His lips were warm on hers, gentle, almost careful, but from the tension of his body she could tell he was holding back.
She appreciated that, because she had the feeling that Trey holding back was about the same as any other man at full throttle.
His hands cupped her face and then slid slowly down her neck to rest on her shoulders, making a pathway of fire.
She must have made some little noise because he lifted his head and opened his eyes and looked at her. “Are you okay? Is this okay?”
She felt so out of breath. “It’s good,” she said, and rose on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his again.
A sound came from him then, something like a growl, and his fingers threaded through her hair as he pulled her closer. Now his kiss was harder, deeper, and suddenly she felt like she had been running for a long time, she was that out of breath.
But she felt safe. His passion was obvious in the movement of his lips and the tightening of his hands, but he didn’t go caveman on her, didn’t push for more.
She was soaring inside, brought to flight not only by his touch, but by the emotion in his eyes, the gentle way he held her. The tenderness suggested a kind of caring she’d never felt before from a man. She liked it. A lot.
Then, suddenly, he was stepping away, straightening the neckline of her shirt, running his hands through his hair and taking deep breaths. She felt the lack of him, the loss, and then she heard something and realized why he had pulled away.
A deep voice, right outside the classroom door.
Principal O’Neil?
With a baby?
Sure enough, there was the sound of a baby’s cry. Then a man’s irritated voice. It sounded like O’Neil. She knew he had an infant, but bringing the child to school was the last thing she would’ve expected of him.
She fingered her hair back into place, fanned herself with her hands and turned to face the door as it opened. Behind her, she could hear Trey gathering the paintbrushes into a can.
Good. Nothing to see here.
“Erica.” The principal walked in, an adorable baby clad in pink propped on his hip. The same baby, she realized, that his wife had been holding that night at the fair.
“Well, now, who is this?” she cooed, drawn to the baby as any reasonable woman, any reasonable person, would be. The little girl had blond curls clustered around her face and the most adorable rosebud lips.
“I guess you’ve never met baby Brittany,” he said, his voice going gentle, undeniable fatherly pride in the way he looked at the baby.
“Can I hold her?”
He handed the baby over readily, then looked at Trey and nodded. “Harrison,” he said.
Erica turned to make sure Trey’s face didn’t betray anything, and it didn’t. It was fixed on the little girl, lit up in a way she’d never seen it before. He strode over, held up his hands and swept the child out of Erica’s arms. He lifted her high, making her chortle.
Erica felt slammed and she didn’t even know why. She looked at the principal. She was expecting him to look upset that Trey had taken over his baby, but he didn’t. Instead, he was nodding and smiling. “Good,” he said to Erica. “I came to your classroom hoping you could take care of her for an hour while I have a meeting.”
Didn’t that just figure, Erica thought. He was looking for a babysitter, not reaching out to make a connection with one of his teachers.
“You’re a lucky man,” Trey said.
Principal O’Neil smiled a little. “I guess I am.”
“We’d be glad to watch out for this little sweetheart,” Trey said. “You have a diaper bag? Maybe we’ll take her for a little stroll.”
“In my office. Stop by.” Now that he had taken care of business, the principal was turning away, intent on his next professional activity.
Erica couldn’t focus on her annoyance, though, because she couldn’t take her eyes off Trey.
“You’re a natural,” she said.
“I love babies,” he said. “Always hoped for three or four of them of my own. Maybe more.”
His words brought reality slamming back into Erica. He kissed her like he meant it, but he didn’t know the truth about her. That she was flawed, sterile, not a whole woman.
A wave of the old familiar sense of inadequacy swept over her. Being a mother was the highest calling a woman could aspire to, and it was one that her medical problems had taken away from Erica.
Oh, in her head she knew that there were many ways to be worthwhile. She’d known many women who did amazing things in the world even though they had never borne children. She knew wonderful adoptive parents.
And that was all fine for other people, but she’d grown up hearing about that intense mother-child bond, how it was different from anything anyone else ever sensed, how it was special, spiritual, irreplaceable. A part of what it meant to be a woman.
She didn’t have that.
She wasn’t what Trey needed.
Not only that, but the man had faced a lot of losses. He’d come here desolate from his divorce and from his injury, and it had taken a while, but Pleasant Shores had worked its magic. He was improving, doing better.
The last thing he needed was a woman who not only couldn’t have children, but who might face serious medical challenges in the future.
No, the kindest thing she could do for Trey was to keep her distance.
She turned to tell him she had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, that he should take care of the baby alone. But the sight of him gently bouncing her in his arms simply took her breath away.
There was something about a big, muscular man and a baby that went straight to her heart.
“What should we do with her?” Trey asked. Gone was the businesslike police officer, the capable volunteer. Trey with a baby looked more like a delighted little boy.
That shouldn’t have been a surprise, since she’d seen his fondness for kids that evening at Goody’s. If things had been different, she would have loved it. “Well, I guess we should get the diaper bag if we’re going to take her somewhere,” she said. Because even though Trey looked comfortable and seemed happy, who knew if he was able to take care of a baby, and she didn’t want Principal O’Neil to have something else to hold against them.
In fact, she was amazed that O’Neil had even allowed Trey to hold his child, but then again, he probably didn’t see childcare as a valuable, important activity. He just wanted to get back to business himself. His wife must’ve dumped the baby on him and he’d hurried to find a teacher to dump the baby on in turn.
“She looks tired.” Trey shifted her expertly and studied her sweet little face. “Let’s just get her things and a blanket and go sit under the apple tree at the side of the school. It will be quiet, and she can nap.”
“Okay.” So he did know how to take care of a baby. Even more torturous.
They went outside with little Brittany, grabbing the diaper bag on the way. Trey got a blanket from the back of his car and they lay on it, the baby in between.
Could Erica be blamed for pretending, just a little, that the baby was hers? Hers and Trey’s?
But she knew the answer to that. Even though it made sense that she’d think that way, she shouldn’t. Shouldn’t let herself imagine it, even for a minute. “When did you learn how to take care of babies?” she asked him.
Trey lay on his side, dangling a plush toy in front of the sweet child. “I was the oldest in the foster family I lived with some of the time. I did a lot of babysitting.”
“Nice.”
“It was.” He sighed and looked away. “Until they got taken away to be adopted or sent back to their parents. Broke my heart every time, so I want to do it differently myself. Just have our own babies to raise, rather than someone else’s who get taken away.”
That was a lot to process. “Our own babies, huh?”
He actually blushed. “I mean...that’s all theoretical. I don’t know if I’ll even get to that point. I rus
hed into it with my marriage and that was a mistake.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
She wouldn’t be bearing Trey’s children. If she did want to be a mother, it would no doubt be through the foster care system. The couple of adoption agencies she’d contacted had expressed doubts about potential parents with serious health issues in their backgrounds.
And if they were okay with it, one of the adoption counselors had explained, the birth parents usually weren’t. Why should they be, when there were way more people wanting to adopt infants than there were infants to adopt?
Thinking about it made her throat tighten. She needed to get out of here. “Look,” she said, “would you be comfortable taking care of the baby until Principal O’Neil is done with his meeting? I have...” She was really choking up now. “I have to get some things done, and I’m not feeling well.”
“No problem, if you think he’ll be okay with it.” He dug around in the diaper bag, found a pacifier and popped it into the baby’s mouth. “Listen, this isn’t because of what happened before, is it?”
“What? Oh...” He must mean the kiss, and that made her cheeks feel hot. “No, no, that’s not it. Although...” She hesitated, thinking about kisses and babies and lost opportunities, then plunged ahead. “I think we both know we don’t want to go there, so we should probably avoid any more opportunities to, you know, be too close. In the future.”
He was looking at her with his forehead wrinkled, like he was trying to figure out what she was saying. “We don’t want to go there,” he echoed.
“Right, for all the reasons...” She trailed off, because she didn’t want to tell him her real reason and experience his pity. “You know, like how O’Neil wouldn’t like it. And how it would hurt your career. How you want to try to get back on the force and...and leave.”
Cottage at the Beach (The Off Season) Page 15
