yellow frame house was trimmed in white with hunter green shutters and a tidy small yard. Elle had always loved it. Especially now that it was where she was raising her daughter.
“Thank you. And thanks for the ride.”
Shane half turned in his seat to look at her. He drew a deep breath, and she had the feeling he was bolstering his courage. The possibility that he was getting up the nerve to ask her out flitted through her mind, but why would he need to brace himself for that, even with the possibility that she would turn him down? Not that she would, but she supposed he couldn’t be sure of that.
“Elle, there’s something—” He broke off with a sigh when her phone beeped with another incoming text. “I know you need to check that.”
With an apologetic half smile, she drew out the phone and read the screen. “Mom says she’s sorry to interrupt, but she can’t find the antacids. I knew she’d regret that second piece of fried chicken.”
He unbuckled his seat belt. “You should go in to her. I’ll walk you to the door.”
She rested a hand lightly on his arm. “Don’t bother getting out. I’m sure Mom’s fine, but I’ll go in and check on her. I have to be at the shop early tomorrow, anyway. I have chocolate-filled doughnuts to make,” she added with a wink.
He nodded, his answering smile looking a little strained as he covered her hand with his. “Do me a favor, okay? Put one of those aside for me. I’m having a breakfast meeting with a potential client in the morning, so it could be midafternoon before I get a chance to come in.”
The warmth from their linked hands flooded pleasantly through her. She’d thought the two glasses of wine she’d imbibed earlier had mostly worn off, but maybe not entirely. “I’ll save you one, all wrapped up so it will stay fresh until you get there.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate that.”
“So...I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You’ll see me tomorrow.”
They sat there for another long moment, hands joined, gazes locked. His eyes glittered in the shadowed car, and she was sure he was thinking about kissing her. Or was she projecting her own curiosity?
Because she wasn’t the kind of woman who coyly waited for a man to make the first move, she leaned forward and took hold of the soft leather lapel of his jacket. She wasn’t even going to blame it on the wine. “Let’s chalk this up to curiosity,” she murmured, then pressed her lips to his.
His startled chuckle was smothered by the kiss that he returned with satisfying enthusiasm after only a heartbeat’s hesitation.
She’d intended the kiss to be brief. Lightly teasing. As she’d said, it had been motivated as much by curiosity as by the attraction she’d felt for him from the start. But what had started as a friendly gesture quickly flared into more. Her fingers tightened on his jacket when his left arm went around her to hold her closer.
Their lips softened, parted, molded together. She felt the slight roughness of evening beard, the heat radiating off him, the strength of the arm holding her. And she was so very tempted to allow the kiss to deepen, to dive in for an even more thorough taste of him. She was only human, and it had been much too long since she’d felt like this...
Shane came to his senses before she did. Drawing back into his seat, he disentangled her hand gently from his coat. “Good night, Elle. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She blinked a couple of times, bringing his face into focus. He wore a faint smile, but his eyes were too shadowed for her to see if the smile spread that far. She honestly had no idea how he felt about her kissing him.
“Good night, Shane.” Rather shaken by the unexpected intensity of what she’d started, she climbed out of the car and walked briskly toward her door, digging in her bag for her keys. She knew she’d recall the taste and feel of him long into the night ahead.
Shane didn’t back out of the driveway until she had her front door open. He lifted a hand in a wave as he drove away. She stood in the open doorway until his red taillights had faded out of sight. Only then did she close the door with a sigh that sounded wistful even to her own ears.
* * *
“WHEN ARE YOU coming home, Shane? You don’t have any more meetings lined up for this weekend, do you?”
“No, there’s nothing scheduled,” Shane told his uncle during a Saturday afternoon phone conversation. Shane sat in his car outside The Perkery, having parked just as his phone rang. He’d already given his uncle a report on the seemingly successful sales pitch that morning, and he was getting impatient to head inside for coffee and the promised chocolate doughnut. “I’d just like to spend a little more time here. I’ll call you when I get back in town. I’ll probably stop by your place on my way home to see Dottie. And I’ll be at the office all day Monday.”
“Guess I can’t blame you for wanting a little time to yourself,” Raymond Scanlon conceded. “You haven’t had more than a handful of days off since you got out of the army, have you?”
Shane wasn’t sure he’d had even that many, not if he counted all the days he’d felt compelled to handle family issues in addition to his work obligations. Which was most days. “Everything’s okay there, right?”
“Oh, sure. We’ll get by until you’re back.”
Shane wished his uncle could sound more confident. “How’s Dottie?” he asked, using the nickname everyone, even her grandchildren, called his grandmother, Dorothy Scanlon.
“She’s feeling better today, I think. She’s been barking orders all morning. You know. The usual.”
“And Parker?”
His uncle’s sigh sounded clearly enough through their connection. “She’s still fretting about anything and everything, but I keep telling her it will all be okay. Still, she’ll feel more relaxed when you’re back. You’ve always had a knack for reassuring her.”
Raymond’s daughter, Parker, worked for the family business and was a part-time dance instructor with plans to open her own studio eventually. She and her musician husband, Adrian Mendel, were the parents of a six-month-old boy, Aubrey. They’d recently moved into their first house, which was in need of a few repairs. Shane acknowledged ruefully that he and his younger cousin shared the bad habit of taking on too much and then worrying about how to get it done.
Shane hadn’t yet told his family that he’d located Charlie’s daughter. When he got home, he’d have to figure out a way to let them know that the child was healthy and seemed happy, though he doubted it would be easy to convince them they had no place in the life she had now. Parker and Adrian were still openly disappointed that Brittany hadn’t given them the chance to raise Charlotte as their own. Had that happened, they’d lamented, she’d have grown up knowing her great-grandmother, her uncles, her biological family history.
As loving as Elle and Janet were toward the child, as much as she belonged with them now, the fact was that Charlotte had been born a Scanlon. That meant something to Shane’s family. And, he had to admit, to him. He accepted that Elle was Charlotte’s mother, but he couldn’t help thinking occasionally of what might have been, had Charlie lived or Brittany made different choices.
Putting those
