Driftwood Cottage. Sherryl Woods
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“A half hour,” Mick said. “Then we’re all going to take naps, right, boys?”
Henry regarded him with a serious look that puckered his brow. “I don’t take naps anymore, Grandpa Mick.”
“Me, either,” Davy chimed in.
“Well, I do,” Mick said.
“So does your cousin,” Connor told the boys. “If you’re not sleepy after lunch, I’ll play a game with you, okay?”
“Henry’ll beat you,” Davy boasted of his older stepbrother. “He’s good at games.”
Connor laughed. “Then I’ll need to be very careful which game I pick to play. I hold the record at some of them.”
Mick shook his head. “Are you still that competitive kid who hated having anyone beat you at anything?” he asked Connor.
“Sure am,” Connor replied, giving him a wink. “See you at the house.”
An hour later Connor had fed the kids, then sent both his son and Mick off for naps before settling down in the den with Davy and Henry. Despite his protests, Davy fell asleep before he could even get the video system set up. Connor carried him upstairs, returned, then turned to Henry.
“You sure you wouldn’t rather rest for a while?” he asked him.
Henry regarded him eagerly. “I’d rather play,” he said at once. “Davy’s not much competition, and Grandpa Mick and Kevin don’t really understand how the game works.”
Connor made a big show of sizing him up. “You any good?”
“Really good,” Henry said in a rare show of confidence from a boy just starting to find his place in his new family.
“Want to place a little bet on the outcome?” Connor taunted. “You win, I’ll take you into town for ice cream. I win, you treat.”
“Don’t do it,” Kevin said, wandering in with a handful of cookies just in time to overhear. “Your uncle Connor cheats.”
Connor turned on his brother indignantly. “I most certainly do not. If anyone cheats, it’s you, big brother.”
“Since when?” Kevin said, snatching up the remote.
Behind them Henry giggled. “You guys are crazy.”
Kevin grinned at his stepson. “You are not the first to notice that, my boy. How about you and me team up against this hotshot? I think we can take him.”
Henry nodded eagerly. “Awesome!”
“That doesn’t strike me as fair,” Connor said, “but bring it on.”
An hour later, he’d destroyed the two of them. He regarded Kevin with satisfaction. “Who’s crying now? I see a double hot fudge sundae in my future.”
“Okay, okay, we bow to your superior expertise,” Kevin said, winking at Henry. “Why don’t you run upstairs and see if Davy’s awake? We should probably get home.” He glanced at Connor. “I was supposed to take little Mick back to Heather, but I assume you’d rather do that yourself.” He studied him pointedly. “Or am I wrong?”
“I’ll take him,” Connor said, his voice suddenly tight as he scowled at his brother. “So, you knew when you came to Baltimore the other night that Heather and little Mick were living here in town?”
“Guilty,” Kevin said.
“Yet you saw no need to mention it,” Connor said accusingly.
“Hey, all of this is between the two of you. The rest of us are innocent bystanders.”
“Innocent, my behind,” Connor said. “Since when has any O’Brien ever stood on the sidelines when it comes to stuff like this? You’re all a bunch of meddlers.”
Kevin didn’t even attempt to deny it. “You know now—isn’t that what counts? Well, that and what you’re going to do about it. Any idea about that?”
Connor sighed. “Not a clue.”
Kevin’s expression brightened. “I have a thought or two.”
“Says the man who was not meddling,” Connor said. “Forget it, big brother. Keep your ideas to yourself. If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. You might circulate that message to the rest of the family, as well.”
Kevin laughed. “You have to be kidding. You said it yourself, meddling is the family hobby. The only way you’re going to deal with Heather in private is if the two of you move cross-country.”
Connor thought of the shop Heather had just opened. It was as cozy and welcoming as their home had once been. He doubted she’d be open to abandoning it, and he was in no position to make such a suggestion anyway. What could he offer her except more of the same? Sadly, all of his vows came with conditions, conditions she could no longer accept.
And that meant they were at a stalemate, with no obvious solution in sight.
3
At six o’clock, with the last customer gone, Heather locked the shop’s front door and began counting her receipts for the day. Sales had been decent for this early in the season, but things were going to have to get a whole lot better if she was to pay the bills and support herself with this business.
At a tap on the front door, she looked up, expecting to see Shanna with the boys, but it was Connor who stood there, their son in his arms.
“Shanna got held up at the store, so Kevin picked up Davy and Henry. I said I’d bring little Mick to you.” He set his son down on the shiny wood floor.
Though he’d started walking weeks ago, when he wanted to move fast, Mick had reverted to crawling. Now he fell to all fours and shot across the room to grab on to her leg.
“Hi, big boy,” Heather said, scooping him up, then meeting Connor’s gaze. “Thanks. Anything else?”
“I thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat,” Connor said, hands shoved into his back pockets. He looked surprisingly vulnerable for a man who could command a courtroom and sway juror opinions.
“Why?” she asked.
“To catch up?”
It was more of a question than an answer, which again showed just how ill-at-ease he was. Heather smiled despite her determination to keep him at arm’s length. It would be way too easy to forget all about her resolve and drift back into a relationship with this man, a relationship that would go nowhere, not because they didn’t love each other but because he wouldn’t allow it. No matter how much it hurt, she had to keep reminding herself that what he was able to give wasn’t enough.
“Thanks, but I don’t think so,” she said softly.
“It’s