He tapped the brakes on his thoughts and the SUV slowed almost to a stop at the entrance to Cloverville Park. “Look there, Abby. Not everything’s changed. They still haven’t managed to fix the colonel.”
Her head turned to where the bronze statue of the town founder, Civil War hero Colonel Clover, stood among the ornamental trees and flowers. His hat was dented, his left ear mangled, his neck at an odd angle with a crude welding job only just holding his head in place, as well as his arms and legs. Her breath hissed out again. “Can’t the damn town hire someone to fix him properly? It’s been eight years.”
Eight years since she’d been expelled from high school for vandalizing the town park by plowing her car across it and knocking over Colonel Clover. She’d been lucky to come out of the crash without even a scratch. His younger sister, Colleen, who’d been in the car, too, had been hurt however. Her face had been cut by the broken windshield and her ribs bruised.
The harsh words he’d said to Abby that night rolled through his mind. “Troublemaker” had been the nicest thing he’d called her. God, if Colleen had been hurt any worse…With his father dying, his family hadn’t been able to handle any more tragedy.
He glanced to the backseat, to the little girl who was dependent on Abby alone. Poor kid. That was what his father had called Abby, when he’d told Clayton to go easy on her, to give her a chance since she was a remarkable young lady. That was one of the last things his father had ever said to him, because he’d died just a few days later.
Clayton blinked. He should have listened to his dad and been easier on her then. She’d only been a kid. Now, sitting next to him, staring wide-eyed at the park, she didn’t look a lot older despite the eight years that had passed and motherhood.
“I guess it’s true what they say,” Abby said, her voice soft. “You can’t come home again.”
When she turned to him, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears, his guts twisted with regret over how she’d left town, and with anxiety over her return. Although Abby Hamilton had grown up, he had no doubt she would still cause trouble.
For him.
Chapter Two
Abby leaned into the backseat, brushing the tangle of damp curls from Lara’s sleeping face before unclasping her safety belt. Strong hands gripped Abby’s waist, the heat of his palms burning through the thin cotton of her tank top. Her heart jumped. Startled, she lifted her head, smacking it against the roof as he gently tugged her out of the doorway.
“I’ll get her,” Clayton said, pushing Abby aside.
Some things never changed. She brushed a hand over her scalp, checking for a bump as she glared at him. But he’d already turned away to lift out her daughter, settling her sleeping head against his broad shoulder. Abby’s heart shifted again at how right Clayton looked with a child in his arms. Her child.
“You’re going to hurt yourself lifting her. She’s nearly as big as you are,” he murmured, staring over Lara’s head at Abby. “You never grew.”
Maybe not physically. But emotionally she had. She knew better than to ever expect a man such as Clayton to be interested in her. She didn’t attract the responsible kind. She only attracted the ones who wanted to use her, not love her. But then, maybe the men weren’t the problem. If her parents were any indication, she was simply unlovable.
“Abby!” a voice squealed as a group of women rushed off the wide front porch of the Kellys’ Victorian. The yellow structure, with its brightly painted teal-and-purple trim, resembled the gingerbread houses the Kelly family baked for their customers every Christmas.
The trio of women enveloped Abby, their voices raised with excitement. She’d always had that effect on Brenna Kelly and Clayton’s two sisters. Molly and Colleen had been studious and mature beyond their years until Abby had arrived on the scene with her boundless energy and enthusiasm. While Clayton had worried about her influence on his siblings, his father had said they needed her to lift their spirits and show them how to have fun. Dad had even gone so far as to suggest that Clayton could benefit from her company, too. But Clayton didn’t need any more responsibilities.
Roused by the babble of voices, Lara opened her eyes, blinking her long, thick lashes before gazing blearily up at Clayton. He tensed, expecting a fearful outburst of tears. After all, he was a stranger, and the little girl had been shy back at the airport. But her rosebud lips formed themselves into a smile, and she settled against his shoulder with a contented sigh. His heart clenched, as if someone had just wrapped a small hand around it.
“If Mom gets a load of you like that, you’re in trouble,” Colleen teased, her brown eyes alight with mischief as she stepped back from the huddle around Abby and stared at him.
“For what?” Abby asked, her brow puckered in confusion as her attention shifted back to Clayton and her daughter.
“For hogging her baby,” Molly said, reaching out to run her fingers gently over Lara’s head. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured.
Colleen’s mouth lifted in a wide smile. “Mom’s been nagging Clayton for grandchildren. If she sees him looking so natural with a child in his arms…”
“I like kids,” Clayton assured the women and the little girl who stared up at him again, her blue eyes wide with interest in the conversation. “Other people’s kids.”
“You obviously haven’t met Josh’s twins yet,” Colleen murmured with a weary sigh.
“They’re good boys,” Brenna said, the redhead jumping to the defense of the groom’s children while Molly remained silent, her face pale and unreadable.
Was Abby right? Had Molly accepted this proposal too soon? Clayton needed to get his sister alone for a serious conversation. Since she’d come home from med school just two short weeks ago, he hadn’t had many opportunities to talk to her. At the time he’d thought she was simply busy with wedding plans, but now he suspected Molly might have been avoiding him.
She turned, leading the way across the lawn and back toward the front porch. “We’ve been holding dinner for you,” she said over her shoulder as she climbed the wide steps.
“I’m sorry we missed the rehearsal,” Abby apologized to her friends. “I should have taken an earlier flight.”
“You couldn’t predict the delays at O’Hare,” Brenna insisted.
Abby laughed, the musical tinkle raising the hairs on Clayton’s arms. “This isn’t my first trip,” she said, refusing to relinquish responsibility. “I should have factored in the possibilities of technical difficulties.”
The old man had spoken the truth at the airport. Regret, over misjudging her, knotted Clayton’s stomach. She hadn’t caused problems on purpose. This time.
“Is the rest of the wedding party here?” Abby asked.
Molly shook her head, tumbling her brown curls around her shoulders. “Eric…left me a voice mail. He can’t come.”
“Tonight?” Abby sighed. “Well, I’ll get to talk to him tomorrow. We can catch up then.”
“He’s not coming tomorrow, either,” Molly said, her voice ragged
