by Teri Wilson
Ryan snapped pictures for the paper and jotted down details in his notepad in case Jonah missed something, but mostly spent the time trying his best to make sense of the almost-kiss with Amanda. The memory of it floated between them, electrifying the air. Whenever Amanda’s arm brushed against his and whenever he unexpectedly caught the sound of her laughter above the din of the crowd at the Granary, a shift took place deep in his chest.
He had feelings for her.
There, he’d admitted it. Not aloud, obviously. Only to himself, because he still wasn’t in any kind of place to enter into a relationship. The fact that Dillon had nearly walked in on him kissing Amanda had been a wake-up call. A big one. He was supposed to be concentrating on fatherhood. He owed Dillon that much.
But that didn’t stop Ryan from thinking about what might have happened if Dillon hadn’t stumbled upon them earlier in the foyer. Or how nice it felt to walk beside her as she greeted friends at the fundraiser. Or how she shivered every time he touched her. So sensitive. So responsive.
He took a deep breath and reminded himself he was there to supervise Jonah’s coverage of the event, and as the judge of the cook-off, not as Amanda’s escort. But he couldn’t seem to tear himself away, so an hour after the fundraiser officially started, she was still just an arm’s length away, beaming at him as she introduced him to various members of the community. And feeding him barbecue.
So. Much. Barbecue.
“We should stop by the Furever Paws adoption tent,” she said after Ryan had eaten his fifth plate of pulled pork. It was his job, after all.
He eyed her as he tossed his napkin in the trash. “If you’re trying to get me to adopt that llama, the answer is no.”
“For the record, Llama Bean is in the petting zoo, not the adoption tent. But we can certainly head over there next if you miss her that badly.”
“Can’t wait,” he said dryly. But he’d promised Dillon he could feed the pygmy goats, so a visit to the petting zoo loomed. Oh boy.
Predictably, the adoption tent was packed. Ryan recognized a lot of the dogs from his recent visit to the shelter, but there were several he’d never seen before. Amanda explained that the shelter only housed pets that didn’t have a foster home. She’d invited a lot of the foster families to bring their adoptable pets to the barbecue event, which had apparently been an ace idea. There wasn’t a dog in the tent that wasn’t currently being oohed and ahhed over.
Ryan nodded toward Tucker trotting at the end of the red leash in Dillon’s hand. “Do you think Tucker recognizes any of his friends from his shelter days?”
Amanda shook her head. “Doubtful. Tucker isn’t exactly a social butterfly. He likes Dillon and nobody else.” A flush crept up her face and she looked away. “Except you.”
Ryan didn’t know why the odd little dog had chosen the two of them to attach himself to, but he was grateful. So damned grateful...every day. “It’s because of you. I haven’t forgotten that you’re the one who brought Dillon and Tucker together. I won’t forget that. Ever.”
She turned to face him again and when their eyes met, everything around them seemed to fade away. They could have been standing alone together in his foyer again, on the verge of kissing, for all the attention he paid to the people and animals around them. The urge to touch her was almost overwhelming. What was happening to him?
Her... Amanda. She was happening to him, and trying to ignore the very nonfriendly feelings he had for her was becoming more difficult with each passing day. Case in point: a well-built guy was currently heading her way with a smile on his face as Ryan’s gut tightened into a hard knot.
Who was this guy? More important, since when did Ryan get jealous?
“Amanda, congratulations.” The mystery guy gave her a one-armed hug that didn’t seem intimate in any way. Still, the knot in Ryan’s stomach showed no signs of dissipating. What the hell was wrong with him?
“This is incredible,” he continued. “Everyone in town is here. Birdie and Bunny have got to be thrilled with what you’ve done here.”
“We’ll see. I’m still kind of a nervous wreck, and I don’t see that changing until we count the proceeds later this afternoon.” Amanda glanced back and forth between him and Ryan. “I don’t think you two have met, have you? Ryan, this is Daniel Sutton. His law office is just down the street. Daniel, this is Ryan Carter, the new owner and editor-in-chief at the Chronicle.”
“Hey, man. Nice to meet you.” Daniel offered his hand.
Ryan shook it, relaxing a little. He was getting a definite friend vibe between Amanda and Daniel. Not that it was any of his business. “Same.”
Daniel grinned at Dillon, spinning in circles to free himself from Tucker’s leash, which had somehow gotten wrapped around his legs. “Is this your boy?”
“Yes. Dillon.” Ryan shook his head. “As you can probably tell, we’re new dog owners. Neither Dillon nor Tucker has quite mastered the leash yet.”
“Give it time.” Amanda rested her hand on his forearm before pointing to a trio of little girls busy petting a big brown gentle giant of a dog wearing an Adopt Me vest. “Those are Daniel’s daughters, Paris, Penny and Pippa.”
Ryan stifled a grin. “Uh-oh. I recognize that look on their faces. It’s the same expression Dillon had when he first spotted Tucker. You might be taking that huge dog home with you.”
Daniel shook his head. “My housekeeper would murder me. Or worse, she’d quit. And we need her. Truthfully, we need a cook and a nanny too. But most days, I manage on my own. We’re always teetering on the verge of chaos, though, and I’m fairly certain adding a one-hundred-pound animal to the mix would mean the end of my sanity.”
Ryan laughed. “I hear you.”
So Daniel was a single father, too. Interesting. He wasn’t sure which seemed more challenging—trying to bond with one withdrawn six-year-old boy or navigating a household of three boisterous little girls. They seemed to be competing to see who could lavish the most attention on the dog they were petting. At least they wouldn’t be able to sneak up on their father kissing anyone. Daniel could probably hear them coming a mile away.
Ryan glanced at Amanda again, gaze lingering on the tempting pink swell of her lower lip. What had that near-kiss been about, anyway? He was desperate to know. Then again, this wasn’t exactly the time or place to figure it out.
He forced his attention back to Daniel, who’d launched into an amusing story about his youngest, Pippa, “borrowing” her classroom’s hamster a few weeks ago.
“Long story short—she didn’t borrow the thing at all. She stole the furry little guy and was keeping him in a plastic carrier under her bed. It was a straight-up kidnapping.” He rolled his eyes.
Ryan smirked. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re a lawyer.”
And maybe he and Daniel needed to be friends. It might be nice to have someone he could talk to about the struggles of parenthood...someone he didn’t end up kissing at every turn. Ryan suggested they get a beer together sometime and after Daniel agreed, he rounded up his daughters so he could get back to the Sutton Legal Services tent.
“Well, look at you.” Amanda grinned up at Ryan. “Mingling with the community and making friends. Something tells me you and Dillon might end up feeling at home here sooner than you thought you would.”
A rush of warmth came over him, aching and sweet. Why was he fighting this? He wanted her. Not just her body, but also her heart. Even if all he could capture was a little piece of it...just enough to make him believe in the hope that glittered in her gaze when she looked at him. He could live a long time on that hope—perhaps even long enough to build a life here. Long enough to stay.
“Maybe we already do,” he whispered, brushing his fingertips along the inside of her elbow and reveling in the rush of goose bumps that cascaded over her warm skin.
Then, at last, he gave up the fight. He took
her hand in his, lifted it to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her fingertips right there in the center of Main Street. He was a father but he was also a man. He’d been so sure that going it alone was the right thing to do. In a way, he’d been doing it his whole adult life—even in his marriage. Back then he’d been focused on his career, pushing toward success. Now he was focused on Dillon, and building a connection with his son. They weren’t bad goals. But his lone wolf attitude was making everything harder than it needed to be, and he didn’t think he could do it anymore. What was he teaching his son by isolating himself from good people?
Let Dillon see that it was okay to need someone.
Let him see his daddy was human.
Let them all see.
“Amanda, I...” He took a ragged inhale.
I’m an idiot. I don’t want to be your friend. I want...more.
He might even want everything.
“I know,” she murmured, gazing up at him as if she could read his mind. “Me too.”
And for a brief, blissful moment, he felt whole again. Healed in a way he hadn’t even realized was possible. But the moment ended almost as soon as it had begun when Dillon broke away from the group of kids gathered around the puppy pen and ran toward an older couple picking their way through the crowd and approaching the adoption tent with an unmistakable look of shock on their pale faces. Ryan watched in confusion as his son threw his little arms around their legs, until the awful truth sank in.
Maggie’s parents had just shown up unannounced.
* * *
Ryan’s hand squeezed Amanda’s with a sudden death grip and then he released it, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. She felt unmoored for a moment, head spinning with the unmistakable notion that she’d been tossed aside right on the heels of what she thought had been some kind of breakthrough.
Had she only been imagining that look in Ryan’s eyes—the one she never thought she’d see? Impossible. She’d seen it...she’d felt it, all the way down to her toes. The brooding man who’d swept into her life dressed in a three-piece suit and armor of regret had finally exhaled. Slowly but surely, he’d been vanishing right before her eyes...all this time, all these torturous weeks. And in his place there’d been someone who wanted her too much to pretend otherwise.
Or so she’d thought.
“Annabelle. Finch.” Ryan’s voice sounded wooden as his gaze swiveled back and forth between the two strangers walking toward them. Dillon trailed after them with Tucker nipping at his heels. “What are you doing here?”
The names sounded familiar, but Amanda couldn’t quite place them until the older woman rested a hand on Dillon’s shoulder. He looked up at her and smiled in a way that Amanda hadn’t seem him do with strangers before. That tiny expression of familiarity was all it took for the significance of what was happening to come crashing down with frightening certainty.
These were Ryan’s former in-laws, the Brewsters. They were the source of all the stressful phone calls and the anxiety over their impending visit at the end of the month.
Except they hadn’t waited until then, as previously planned. They were right here, right now, and they were looking at Ryan as if he were some kind of monster.
“We thought it best to come right away,” Mr. Brewster said. His gaze swept the festival, and then he looked Ryan up and down. “As you know, we’ve been worried about what kind of environment you’ve chosen for our grandson. And it appears our concerns were justified. What kind of place is this? Some kind of mangy-looking camel just spit on Annabelle.”
It had to have been Llama Bean, although she normally didn’t spit at people. Most llamas didn’t unless they were feeling particularly threatened. Then again, maybe Llama Bean somehow sensed Annabelle Brewster’s hostility toward Ryan and stood up for him the only way she knew how.
Amanda had never related so much to a llama in her life. She cleared her throat. “Actually, it was probably a llama. They’re related to camels, though. So, good guess.”
Finch and Annabelle both looked at her as if she’d just sprouted two heads. Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as if he wanted to disappear.
“Um.” Why, oh why, had she opened her big mouth? “We don’t normally have farm animals in the center of town, I assure you. This is a special occasion.”
Mrs. Brewster rolled her eyes, while her husband narrowed his gaze at Amanda. “And you are?”
“Amanda Sylvester. You’re Dillon’s grandparents, right? It’s wonderful to meet you both.” She smiled as wide as she could manage. Maybe Dillon’s grandparents simply needed a big dose of Southern charm.
Or maybe not.
Neither of them returned the greeting, opting to study her as if she were a science experiment instead.
Ryan’s hand moved to the small of her back, but the gesture felt stiff all of sudden. Cold. “Amanda has been helping us out with our new dog. She volunteers at the animal shelter. She’s a good friend.”
A weight settled instantly on her heart, even though she knew she had no real reason to be upset. Ryan had warned her that the Brewsters were difficult people. They clearly didn’t trust Ryan with his own son, much less a stranger who’d just entered their lives—a stranger who they probably suspected might be interested in taking over their late daughter’s role in Dillon’s life.
But that was ridiculous. Amanda had no intention of replacing Maggie, either as Ryan’s wife or Dillon’s mother.
Then why does that friend label sting so much?
“I like Amanda. She’s nice,” Dillon said.
“I like you too.” Amanda grinned. Even though he’d been talking on a daily basis since bringing Tucker home, she knew Ryan still tried to praise or encourage him in some way every time he spoke.
Finch and Annabelle clearly weren’t the warm and fuzzy type, but she half expected them to do the same. After all, as far as she knew, they hadn’t heard their grandson speak in months.
They didn’t, though. Instead, Annabelle reached into her purse for a tissue and tried to clean the barbecue sauce off Dillon’s face.
“You’re a mess, child.” She cut her gaze to Ryan, and the set of his jaw hardened into stone. “Honestly, Ryan. You let him run around like this?”
Finch huffed out a sigh. “Were you even aware he needed cleaning up? You weren’t keeping an eye on him at all just now. He could have been running around wild for all the attention you were paying to him.”
Why wasn’t Ryan defending himself? These people were being so unfair.
It’s not your business. Stay out of it.
She couldn’t, though. She cared too much about Ryan and Dillon to stand there and listen to the Brewsters say things that weren’t true. She wished Dan Sutton was still there to jump to Ryan’s defense. He was a lawyer, after all. Even Birdie and Bunny would have been helpful at the moment. Anyone.
But the last time she’d spotted the Whitaker sisters had been back at Doc J’s microchip clinic, and from the look of things they’d been enjoying the vet’s company far too much to wander elsewhere. Bottom line—there was no one else who could defend Ryan. Everyone else in the tent was fawning over a dog, oblivious to the family drama unfolding in their midst. If anyone was going to speak up, it would have to be her.
“But Dillon was right there at the puppy pen.” Amanda waved toward the corner of the tent where most of the small children had gathered to watch the youngest adoptable pups romp and play. “Ryan was watching him. I was too.”
“Amanda, it’s okay,” Ryan said. “You don’t have to say anything. Finch and Annabelle can come back to the house, and we can get this sorted out.”
“Amanda can come home too,” Dillon chimed in. “She can make us breakfast tomorrow, like she always does.”
All the breath left Amanda’s body in one rapid whoosh. Oh God. Why did her little breakfast
routine sound so scandalous all of a sudden?
Probably because it makes it sound like I’m living at Ryan’s house instead of stopping by every day before school.
The Brewsters both glared at her. Yep, that’s exactly what they thought. They were probably picturing her frying up eggs in a satin negligee instead of ringing the doorbell at seven in the morning wearing jeans and her Main Street Grille T-shirt.
Finch lifted an accusatory brow. “Is this true, Ryan?”
Amanda shook her head. “It’s not quite how it sounds.”
Ryan’s eyes went dark—darker than she’d ever seen them before. “My relationship with Amanda isn’t any of your business, Finch.”
Mr. Brewster’s mouth hung open for a second before finally closing. Amanda’s legs turned to water. What was Ryan doing? He’d just told them they were friends. Good friends, but still. That wasn’t quite the same thing as letting them believe she regularly slept over at his house.
Especially since she’d never spent the night with Ryan before.
For reasons she couldn’t quite identify, she had the definite feeling that she never, ever would. Even more puzzling, that realization left her suddenly heartsick.
“I’m sorry, but I need to check on a few things.” Amanda turned toward Finch and Annabelle. “Again, it was lovely meeting you. I hope you enjoy your time in Spring Forest.”
Ryan’s gaze fixed with hers, pleading with her. Begging her not to leave.
She shook her head. I can’t be here. This discussion had nothing to do with her. Whatever was going on between Ryan and his in-laws was personal family business. And as she was so painfully aware, she and Ryan weren’t family.
She wasn’t sure what they were at all anymore.
Chapter Ten
“Are you okay?” Mollie McFadden caught Amanda by the sleeve as she hustled past the Best Friends Dog Training booth.
She stopped, glanced over her shoulder and took a breath.
When she’d left Ryan, Dillon and the Brewsters behind at the adoption tent, she hadn’t been headed anywhere in particular. The line she’d given them about announcing the winner of the cook-off had been a white lie. As the event judge, Ryan had already made his decision, but Amanda wasn’t scheduled to present the winner with the trophy for another forty-five minutes. She’d just needed to get away, and since Mollie’s dog training stall was clear on the other side of the Granary, it seemed as good a place to stop as any.
