last night she had been with Connor, he had given her the snow-white bud. Her first flower from a boy. Her hands had trembled, and she’d pricked her finger. He had cupped her hand, sucking gently on the drop of blood, his mouth warm and tantalizing against her skin.
Nora closed her eyes and clamped down on her rioting emotions. No, she would not let his spontaneous gesture of picking a flower weaken her resolve. She lifted her head, opened her eyes.
Connor shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Ed and his wife never had any kids of their own, and none of his relatives cared about the farm. He used to complain about that while we were out in the field.” For a moment he smiled with the memory. Then his expression became remote. “Anyway, after Ed passed away, Barnett contacted me and said the old man had left everything in my trust.”
Nora took a deep calming breath. Perhaps he’d only returned to sell the spread. “But there’s barely any money with the estate, just the land. How are you going to pay the property taxes? Or are you selling it as soon as you can?”
Anger flaring in his eyes, Connor went from relaxed to battle alert. Nora took a half step back before stopping herself.
“You sure have changed, haven’t you, Nora? Prepared to think the worst of me like everyone else in this town.” She heard the pain rippling beneath the ice in his voice.
She had hurt him. Funny, she’d always thought no one could penetrate Connor’s armor. The boy she hadn’t understood was now a man she didn’t know. She flushed and gestured, indicating the farm. “But it’s 165 acres.”
Connor hitched his shoulders slightly. “So?” His tone was belligerent. “Do you think I can’t afford it? Pastor Devlin’s no-account son ran off to be a failure?”
His accusation hit Nora squarely. He was right. Part of her wanted to believe the worst about him. How else could she reconcile the cold truth that he hadn’t told her he was leaving, hadn’t contacted her in all this time?
She narrowed her eyes. “How should I know? How would I know anything about you? You left this town and didn’t look back, remember?” He hadn’t been there for her during those moments of terrifying need. Pain may have lost its sharp edge, but resentment could still carve deep.
She drew in a steadying breath before continuing. “You didn’t write, you didn’t call. For all I knew, you were dead.”
Liar, her inner voice whispered. If something had happened to him, you would have felt it.
Surprise flickered in his eyes. His smile mocked her. “I’m sure my mother would have broadcast the glad tidings of my death.” He paused, his face hardening. “Besides, wouldn’t it have been awkward if I called? The husband you snagged the moment I left might have objected.”
Nora blinked. That wasn’t the tale she and Aunt Abigail had molded. When had the lie of a college misadventure transmuted into one of marriage? Like a kaleidoscope, the fragments of her life shifted and formed a new realization. She almost staggered under its weight.
There was not going to be any escape from this quandary. She was going to have to tell him the truth. Then the town would hear. And…
Abby. Oh, God, what would the news do to her daughter? When Abby had been old enough to ask questions, Nora had spun the story of an ill-fated college romance and her decision to have the baby. If told the truth, would Connor disappear again? What would that do to Abby?
No. She needed more time to assess the man standing before her. Her daughter’s future was at stake.
She drew herself up, summoned her reserve of calm and looked straight at him. “You’re mistaken. I was never married.”
“But she told me…” His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Your daughter, Abby,” he said carefully. “Is she…?”
Her heart hammered so loudly she feared he would hear it. She affected a nonchalant shrug. “The result of a failed romance. I met this boy and fell in love, but he wasn’t ready to become a man. He left me, and I’ve never heard from him since.”
God help her, she couldn’t resist the taunt that hissed up from her turbulent emotions. “Leaving town rather than facing responsibility seems to be a male proclivity.”
Connor’s expression darkened. His hands lashed out and yanked her against his body, his fingers digging into her shoulders.
“How dare you compare me to him!” His arms slid around her like a vise. “Didn’t what we shared mean anything to you?”
It had meant everything to her. “No.”
He drew her closer. They were flesh to flesh. Her senses overflowed with him. He was earth and sweat, muscle and power. Heat. Roaring, incendiary heat. She couldn’t inhale without breathing in his scent.
“No?” He lowered his head. “Then it won’t mean anything if you kiss me.”
“Cut it out.” She spread her hands against his muscled chest.
“Why?” His breath fanned her face. “It’s only a kiss.”
An image flashed into her mind, of her intoxicated mother giggling as she tussled with her latest leering paramour. He had pawed her mother, saying, “Give me a kiss, Tess.” After a few coy protests, her mother had lustily complied. “Get rid of the kids,” the man had ordered as he staggered into their mother’s bedroom. Tess had dragged the girls into their room, with Nora fighting all the way because they hadn’t eaten.
The snick of the closet-door lock. The taste of fear.
“Nora, take it easy. Look at me.”
With a start, Nora realized she was struggling in his arms.
“Breathe,” he ordered.
Shame smothered her panic and she stilled.
“Are you okay?” He eased his grip. She fought to take a normal breath. With a light touch, he ran his hands up and down her arms. Her tension ebbed with each stroke; in its place drifted comfort and something else…a stirring of the blood. She sighed.
“Nora?” Connor bent down and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, honey.”
Flustered, Nora stepped back. Too many secrets prevented even this closeness. “Thanks. I’m fine.”
Connor dropped his hands. “All right.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look. I’m…sorry for what I said about Abby’s father.” Nora almost smiled. She didn’t recall him ever apologizing, let alone twice in one conversation.
“What’s done is done. I have no business prying.” He bent down, picked up her briefcase and handed it to her. His fingertips brushed hers, sending another ripple of warmth through her.
The dog appeared at his side, and Connor absently ruffled his head.
Nora eyed the beast. “Big dog.”
“He’s a Newfoundland. Bran—” he gestured at her “—I want you to meet Nora.”
On cue, the dog lifted his right paw. Nora
