Cara O'Shea's Return (9 page)

“Looks good.” Ryan’s voice echoed in the empty room, along with the clank of the tools he replaced in his toolbox.

“Good?” Busy angling the newly installed wooden shutters at the front of the room, Cara turned to gawk at him. “It’s gorgeous!”

“It will be.” Finn spoke in a distracted tone as he studied the back wall.

The front door opening prevented Cara from commenting. She stiffened when she found Tom standing just inside the door. The lengthening silence was deafening as father and daughter stared at each other across the small space.

“Good morning, Tom.” Finn’s deep voice cut through the tension.

“Finn.” Tom nodded a greeting. The smile he offered Ryan was strained. “Hello, Ryan. I hear Erin is already planning the second honeymoon.”

Ryan laughed and crossed the floor to shake his new father-in-law’s hand. “That works for me, especially if I don’t have to do any heavy lifting.” He winked at Cara.

She gave him a weak smile. “I appreciate your help this morning.”

“Anytime.” He hefted the toolbox from the counter and looked at Finn. “Let me know when you’re ready to yank the stairwell.”

Finn nodded and checked his watch. “We have an appointment to see the spiral stairs in a couple of hours. I’ll have a better idea on when we’ll be ready after we meet with the manufacturer.”

Cara shot Finn a glance. This was the first she’d heard of the appointment, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She wasn’t ready to talk to Daddy, though it seemed he was going to force the issue. She’d take the excuse of meeting with the manufacturer today, even if it meant having to spend time alone with Finn.

Tom waited until Ryan left before turning to her. “We need to talk, Cara.”

“Now isn’t a good time.”

He proved he could be just as stubborn as she. “When is?”

Cara’s gaze flicked to Finn, who was watching their little family drama with interest. He stood with his arms crossed, his face expectant, as though he were waiting for her answer himself.

“What time is this appointment?”

He didn’t react to her hostile tone, answering easily. “A couple of hours. We should be done by three.”

She turned back to Tom. “Since you’re obviously not going to let this go, I’ll meet you in the park across from your office at four.”

She wasn’t interested in having the coming confrontation in a restaurant where inquiring ears would surely be tuned in to pick up details for the grapevine, but neither did she want to meet him at his home or office with Hannah present. The park would have to do.

Her stomach muscles clenched at the soft smile spreading over his face.

“Thank you.”

“I said I’d meet you,” she informed him coolly. “I’m not promising anything else.”

His smile dimmed and he lifted his hand toward her face. He quickly dropped his arm to his side when she stiffened. He sighed.

“I’ll see you at four, Cara mine. Finn.” He offered Finn a smile before leaving.

The moment the door closed behind him, Cara let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. She dropped her head forward and squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her forehead with stiff fingers.

She didn’t hear Finn approach, and flinched when he rested his hands on her shoulders. He stood close behind her. She could actually feel the warmth of his body along her back, and was shocked at how much she wanted to lean against him, to let him hold her for just a few minutes.

But resting in Finn’s arms was a luxury she couldn’t allow herself. She didn’t lean back as she wanted, but she couldn’t step away either.

“He did that on purpose,” she complained.

“What?” His fingers flexed on her taut shoulder muscles in a gentle massage.

“Came here when he knew I wasn’t alone.”

“Would you have talked to him if you’d been alone?”

She shifted her shoulders under his hands in a shrug. “I don’t know, maybe. Probably not.”

She would have to talk to her father eventually, now that she was back. Her mother and sisters had long since come to terms with the situation, and wanted her to as well. She’d try, if only to ease her mother’s mind.

“What has you so upset? He’s your father, Cara, not a firing squad.”

She shot him an annoyed scowl over her shoulder and shrugged out from under his soothing hands. She had no interest in discussing her estrangement with her father. It was uncomfortable enough to think about, never mind share with a man she should be doing her best to avoid.

“It’s complicated,” she said finally.

“You haven’t spoken to him since he married Hannah. That’s a long time to go without talking to your father.”

She hadn’t spoken to Daddy for much longer than that, but Finn’s blunt statement made her jaw drop.

“Everyone in town knows you refuse to speak to him.” He arched his eyebrows as if to say she shouldn’t be surprised her personal business was common knowledge around town.

She shouldn’t be, but she was. And the realization made her bitter. “I guess when the town manager leaves his wife and children for another woman, it makes the town grapevine.”

He was silent for a moment. “I have some experience with being the topic of gossip around town, around the country for that matter. It’s obvious you don’t like it any more than I do, and like me, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Since he was right, she said nothing.

“He didn’t leave you, Cara. He left Mary.”

It sure hurt like he’d left her. “Please don’t defend him.”

“I’m not defending what he did. I’m just stating the facts.” She glared at him and he chuckled. “Now that you’re mad at me again, instead of stressing over something you’ve agreed to do anyway, why don’t we get going?”

As they pulled away from the curb in his big pick-up, Finn lifted a manila envelope from the seat next to him and dropped it in her lap.

“What’s this?”

“My bid.” He shrugged a shoulder. “We should be able to do everything you want, and stay within the budget you mentioned.”

She slid a fingertip under the fold and pulled out the stack of papers. She read the detailed list of supplies on the top page.

“There are two options in there for the back wall.” He glanced her way before returning his attention to the road. “I got to thinking, instead of the windows you want, why not put in a wall of French doors? A couple of doors would give you the light you want, and you have enough level ground off the back of the building to lay out a small patio. You’d have a quiet place to enjoy that view you’re so excited about.”

She darted a glance at him. If he was trying to remind her of what happened between them when she showed him that view, he wasn’t being blatant about it.

As if she needed to be reminded about that kiss. That kiss hadn’t been far from her mind for days.

She studied his strong profile for a moment, before glancing back at the papers in her hand. Oh, she was in big trouble. She’d known working with him would be a huge mistake, and she was right. Here it was only the first day and she already had to fight the overwhelming urge to fall into his arms and accept all he wanted to give her. Her heart would be broken before they were finished, and if that scene in the studio a few minutes earlier were any indication, she wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping it from happening.

She concentrated on the papers. Flipping through the pages, she paused when she came to a sketched drawing laying out his vision for the back wall. Her eyebrows rose in silent appreciation. The simple pencil sketch depicted the aged brick of the back wall as a backdrop for an elegantly simple, spiral staircase. To the left of the stairs were three double-hinged wooden doors, open to reveal a cozy seating area, complete with bistro table and chair.

“You drew this?”

She glanced at him and his gaze dropped to the pages she held. He shrugged and turned back to the road. “It helps when I can see the finished look I’m shooting for. There’s a sketch in there with windows if you don’t like the idea of the doors. Like I said, it’s just an option.”

“It’s a good option. I love it.” She flipped to the second sketch, silently appreciating it for its artistic value for several moments. Having already decided on the doors, or nothing, she returned the stack of papers to the envelope. She shook her head. “You keep surprising me, Finnegan.”

His gaze tangled with hers. “Why is that, O’Shea?”

“As an artist, I recognize talent when I see it. These sketches…” She tapped a finger to the envelope in her lap. “They’re good. Is there anything you can’t do?”

Amusement darkened his eyes. “I can’t cook.”

She snorted a quiet laugh. “Neither can I. That’s Meggy’s and Shan’s department.”

“I was just kidding.” He grinned. “You can’t cook?”

“You can?”

“Of course I can. Everyone can cook.”

“I beg to differ.” She sniffed to suppress the smile that threatened. “In fact, the last time Meggy came to stay with me in New York, she complained about having to dust the oven before she could use it. Basically, I have a kitchen because one comes with every apartment.”

His deep bark of laughter filled the cab of the truck, and she went warm and jittery at the same time.

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself, O’Shea. Everyone can cook, even if it’s just toasting bread or heating a can of soup.”

She snorted dismissively. “If that’s what qualifies as cooking in your mind, then maybe you’re being too generous with yourself!”

He shrugged unapologetically. “Hey, cooking’s cooking.”

She bared her teeth in a taunting grin. “I can throw a football. By your standards, that makes me a quarterback.”

He shook his head and chuckled, slipping into a thick, Boston accent. “Well, now. Yawh wicked clevah, O’Shea. Explaining things in a way a jauck like me can undastand.”

She preened shamelessly, batting her eyelashes. “I try.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked several moments later. “Living in New York City?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t been home very long yet, but, no. I don’t miss it. I miss the friends I made there, but New York was never home. What about you?” She shifted on the seat and bent her leg to fold her ankle under her other knee, facing him more completely. “Do you miss the football life?”

He shot her a quick glance before answering. “Sometimes. I miss the rush of playing in a big game. Football was such a huge part of my life for so long, it was tough to walk away. Ultimately, the decision to retire was made for me. After the second knee surgery, walking at all was my main concern.”

“You seem to have recovered. You’re still young enough. Do you ever think about going back?”

“I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t. But even though the surgery was a success, I don’t have full range of motion in my left knee and never will. I was lucky enough to have kept my foot in the door on the broadcasting side of the sport.”

She nodded, smiling slightly. “I saw your interview during the game last week. You held your own.”

His smile turned wolfish. “You watched me, huh?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Did you ever see me play?”

She studied her fingernails. “I may have caught a game or two.”

She hadn’t missed a game in high school and dragged Meggy with her to see him play at BC several times during his college years. She even caught a few Tampa games after she’d gone to New York, telling herself she was only watching because it happened to be the only game on TV. She had been glued to her set the day he won his Super Bowl ring.

He would never know any of that, though.

Finn slowed the truck on the country road and turned onto a dirt pathway leading into the pines. Passing beneath an iron archway announcing their welcome to the North Shore Boys Ranch, Cara glanced around at the scattered buildings.

A large glass and log structure sat at the center of a clearing. Several smaller cabins climbed the slope into the trees. To the right, a small lake sparkled in the summer sunlight. A football field off to the left teamed with activity as several men put dozens of teenage boys through their paces, despite the warm June day.

She shot him a smirk. “I should have known it was a football camp.”

He pulled the truck to a stop next to the main building and cut the engine. “It’s not just a football camp.” He opened the door and climbed out. She followed. “Football teaches discipline and teamwork,” he explained, “but it’s just one of the activities the kids participate in while they’re here.”

A thin, scholarly looking man in khakis and a short-sleeved dress shirt met them on the front deck of the main building. A wide smile creased his lined face.

“Who have you brought me, Finn?”

A foot and a half shorter than the six-five Finn, the older man grinned slyly as he shook Finn’s hand, his gaze remaining on Cara.

Finn laughed. “Cara, this old reprobate is the boss around here, Doc Windham. Doc, this is Cara O’Shea. She’s the artist who donated those shelves I called you about.”

“What an impressive place you have here.” Cara shook Doc’s offered hand. She was charmed when he brought her fingers to his lips for an old-world kiss on her knuckles.

His gray eyes twinkled merrily. “I’ll give you a tour while Finn sees about getting those shelves unloaded.” He dropped her hand. “We appreciate your thinking of us, Miss O’Shea. Our library has outgrown itself over the last couple of years. We’ll put your gift to good use.”

She opened her mouth to say the idea had been Finn’s, when he spoke. “Don’t let him talk your ear off. Doc gets caught up in his excitement over the camp’s program when he has a new victim to listen to him.”

Genuine affection colored Finn’s tone. Doc proved the feeling was mutual, calling over his shoulders as he led Cara inside, “Put that oversized back of yours to good use and unload those shelves. I’ll make sure Miss O’Shea’s ears are entertained.”

“Please, call me Cara.” She followed him inside the combination seating and game room. Ping pong tables, dart boards, and game tables shared the space with several long, comfortable couches.

“Only if you’ll call me Doc.” His smile said he was pleased by the idea.