Dating a Single Dad (17 page)

That made two of them.

“But if you want to know the truth...I think if you hadn’t come knocking, I might have been the one doing it.”

Now, that was intriguing. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I even... Well, the other day, I picked up some stuff for Millie’s thumb. I used to use it, back when I bit my nails. You paint it on like nail polish. It tastes awful but it works.”

“Thanks. You didn’t need to do that.”

She grinned again and ran a finger over his collarbone. “Well, I can pretend I did it out of the goodness of my heart. Or I can admit that when I bought it, I had this image of me taking it up to your place and saying something about wanting to give it to you when Millie wasn’t around, because I didn’t want to tip her off.”

“You had it all planned out, did you?”

Her skin pinked ever so slightly. “Hey, all I was going to do was offer. Whatever might have happened next would have been up to you.”

And that, he realized, was one of the reasons why it was so easy to be with her. She had her agenda and her plans but she never shoved them down anyone’s throat. Sure, usually by the time she was done he felt like an idiot if he tried to go against her, but she had a way of making it feel like the choice truly rested in his hands.

He was going to have to watch and learn. Not that watching Brynn was any hardship.

“Nice to know you were thinking of us.” And by
us,
he most definitely did not mean him and Millie.

“Nice to know I wasn’t the only one thinking,” she said with a saucy grin. She rolled away, fumbled in the drawer beside her and handed him a small bottle. “Here.”

“It might be worth a try.” He scanned the instructions. “So far she’s playing it safe, saying she’ll give up the thumb if I get Angry Birds for her. She knows I think it’s too violent.”

“It’s not violent. It’s fun.”

“The point is, she deliberately chose something she knew I would refuse.”

“Dang. That’s a serious attachment.”

“Yeah, well, no one ever said that change was easy, right?”

“I think you know the answer to that one already.” She kissed him lightly on the jawbone—not to seduce, he knew, but to comfort. Didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to roll her over and let his own lips do a little exploring, but all in good time.

“I didn’t think it would be as rough as it was to drop her off last night.”

“It’s a pretty big change for all of you. Probably a good one, but even those can be a challenge.”

“Yeah, I guess, if we made it through everything so far, we can figure out this one. God knows it won’t be anything like when we found out Millie was on the way.”

“Or when Heather left?” The words were so quiet that he knew he could easily pretend he hadn’t heard her if he wanted to avoid the topic. Turned out he didn’t.

“That one was a kick in the gut, for sure.”

“You didn’t see it coming?”

He breathed in, willing himself back to those days he tried to avoid remembering. “In hindsight, yeah. It’s easy to see how things were falling apart. But at the time— You know, we hardly ever saw each other. We were looking after Millie and working and taking classes, and I guess I missed the signs. No excuse, but that’s the way it was. Does that make any sense?”

“I think so.”

He caught her hand, let his thumb circle hers. “I should have had more of a clue and she should have spoken up, and we probably should have been about twenty years older than we were. But there’s no changing history.”

“Did you miss her?”

“That ship sailed a long time ago, Brynn.”

“That’s not what I asked. I have a pretty good idea that you’re not pining away for her these days.” A quick pat to his groin emphasized her point. “But back when it happened, when she was first gone... Did you miss her then?”

Had he? He remembered being more furious than he had thought possible, lost and overwhelmed and so scared that he could hardly breathe. He remembered his rage at how she insisted everything was fine, then ran anyway. He remembered long nights of rocking his heartbroken daughter and crying along with her, longing to make things better for her.

But for himself?

“Maybe I was just too angry,” he said slowly. “Or too busy. But I don’t remember ever wishing that she was still around for me. For Mills, yeah. But not for me.”

Funny, but he had never thought of that before. He had liked Heather a lot before things went south. They’d had some good times. And it was kind of nice that he no longer needed a slug or two of whiskey to get through a phone call. Sometimes he was even able to joke with her, to share a laugh over Millie’s latest exploits. He liked being able to have that with her.

“My mom did.”

Lost in his own past, it took a minute for him to understand what she was saying. “Your mom missed your father? Even after what he did?”

“Yeah. Hard to imagine, huh?” She pulled the pillow close and curled around it, the way Millie did when she had a bad dream.

“Most of the time she hated him, I think. But sometimes one of us would say something, or it would be...I don’t know, a birthday, a school thing, whatever. And she would stop and look around the room real fast, like she was looking for him, ready to do that ‘can you believe this?’ grin that people share when they’ve been together forever.” She swallowed. “You could tell the instant she remembered he was gone. Her face just...I don’t know. Crumpled.”

He slipped his fingers through her hair, wound a curl around his finger, let his finger slide down her cheek.

“One day—she has no idea I know this—but one day, I heard her on the phone with Taylor’s mom. She was crying and ranting and just so... I mean, she held it together through everything. The operations, chemo, the hospital. She was scared and all of that, but she never let it take over.”

All of a sudden, he understood how Brynn had become so focused.

“But this one day... You know, I think it was their anniversary. She lost it. Completely. I will never forget hearing her tell Aunt Connie that she hoped to hell he never asked to come back, because she didn’t think she would be able to say no. Even after everything he did to her, to us, she still missed him. She still loved him.”

He didn’t know what to say. It didn’t sound like any kind of love he’d ever heard of, but what did he know?

She made an odd little sound, somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told you that. She did finally figure out that he’d had no idea how to be a real partner. She’s been with a great guy for a couple of years now, so, you know, ancient history. Please don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Not to worry.” He took her hand between his own. Giving her time. He wasn’t sure why she had decided to share this with him, of all people, but he had the feeling it wasn’t the kind of memory she could simply bounce back from.

Sure enough, for a few moments she lay silently, still curled on her side though not as tightly. Her eyes were open but unfocused, seeing things he would lay money she would rather not see again. He rubbed her hand, letting his finger play over her knuckles and giving her what comfort he could.

After a time she drew in a deep breath, blinked and gave that quick little head shake and the determined smile he was so familiar with.

“Okay. Enough melancholy for one morning. Time to move on.”

For once he agreed with her.

Her gaze shifted to him. The smile softened. “I set that alarm so I would have time for a run, but you know, I’ve been very faithful to my training program. I think I’ve earned a morning of some alternate exercise.”

“Is that so?”

She rose on one elbow and kissed him, a slow exploration of his mouth that left him ready for anything she had in mind.

“You’re the boss,” he said, and this time, he was more than happy to let her have her way.

* * *

B
Y
M
ONDAY
MORNING
,
when Brynn was scheduled to have a meeting with Moxie, Hank and Carter to go over some of the festival vendor contracts, she was convinced that she should arrange for a weekend such as she had just had at least once a year. It wasn’t as productive as she usually preferred, but whoa and damn, did she feel
good.
One weekend of Hank and she was walking with the kind of deep relaxation that followed a full day of spa pampering and hours of massage. She felt fluid and flexible, ready to attempt the most daunting yoga poses—assuming she didn’t immediately melt into a boneless puddle.

Oh, did she know how to pick them.

She glided into Taylor’s office, hung up her jacket and pulled out her phone. She’d missed a call from Taylor last night. Okay, she had heard the phone and even checked the screen, but she and Hank had been making the most of his last hour before he had to get Millie and she had known Taylor was safely in Calgary for the conference, so she had muted the phone and let Hank pull her attention back to some seriously nonfamily-centered activities. She could have called Taylor once Hank left but decided it was better to wait until she could be sure she wouldn’t break into giggles if Taylor asked what she’d been doing all weekend.

Time to remedy her shocking lapse of family concern.

But before she could make the call, one came in from the manager of one of the bands slated to perform at the festival. By the time she listened to the other woman’s concerns and worked out a solution, she had to scramble to make the meeting on time.

She scooped up her laptop and files with a smile. It took all her restraint to keep from skipping down the hall.

Hank and Moxie were already in the conference room when she arrived. She slipped into her usual chair with a “Good morning” to Moxie and a smile for Hank. He gave her a small, restrained nod, just like always—

And she suddenly, completely lost the ability to speak.

She pressed her hand to her midsection and focused on breathing, relaxing.

Light and easy, Brynn. A good time, remember? Nothing more, nothing less. Friends with most awesome benefits.

After what felt like a lifetime, she turned her attention back to Moxie, praying that she had imagined the spark of curiosity she saw in the older woman’s eyes.

“Well, then.” Moxie spoke with far more satisfaction than was good for the state of Brynn’s mind. “Let’s get this party started. Vendors.”

Relief was quickly followed by confusion. “Wait. What about Carter?”

“Not here.”

Oh, no.

“Is he sick?” Hank sounded only mildly concerned. Brynn clutched her pen and waited for Moxie’s answer. A cold. A stomach bug. Something that would have kept him home but he could still be called if they had questions... Surely that was the only reason for his absence.

Please, please, let that be all.

Moxie fixed Hank with an evil eye. “What did I say about checking your emails before meetings, Henry?”

“I thought it was more important to be on time.”

“Really.” Moxie leaned back in her chair. “Interesting, since this email went out Saturday morning.”

Do not blush. Do
not
blush.

Thank heaven, Hank was more in control than she would have been were she in his shoes. “Moxie, you know full well that Millie spent this weekend with her mother. I had a lot more important things to do than read email.”

Important.
Doing her had been important. Her worry took a backseat for a moment, eclipsed by sheer delight.

“Besides,” he continued, “I don’t work here anymore, remember? I’ll do my part but it comes after my own work.”

His shrug was pure “deal with it.” Instead of being appeased, Moxie fixed him with a shrewd gaze that seemed to dart in Brynn’s direction one too many times for Brynn to breathe easy.

“How was it?” Moxie asked at last.

Brynn’s jaw sagged. Moxie hadn’t really—

“It went well,” Hank said easily. “Millie is a trouper. If you want to talk about it over lunch, I’m free.”

Oh. Very nicely done.

Moxie eyed him for another long moment.

“Twelve-thirty. My office. Now let’s get down to business.” With a quick roll of her shoulders, she moved on.

“But—Carter?” Brynn didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she hadn’t read the email, either,
really
didn’t want Moxie probing into her reasons for being behind the curve this morning, but the need to know what had happened far surpassed her own potential embarrassment. “Is he sick?”

Moxie sighed and set her papers back on the desk. “Listen, you two. I am old and running the whole damned place, and I still found time to be up on everything pertinent before I came to this meeting. I suggest you both remember your priorities next time instead of doing...whatever it was that kept both of you from being prepared for the same meeting.”

Brynn ducked her head in hopes of hiding the pink she knew was taking her face hostage. Moxie was fishing. That was all. That had to be all.

“Friday night we got a call from Dana, who was at the conference with Taylor. Death in the family. We’d paid for two registrations and it seemed a pity to waste it.”

No. No.

“I called Carter and told him what happened, and he stepped up. He flew out Saturday night. He’s there now with Taylor.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

O
F
COURSE
T
AYLOR
wasn’t answering her phone.

Brynn scowled at her cell for about the three hundredth time since Moxie had dropped her bomb. She’d spent the day calling and texting, doing her best to distract herself with work.

No luck.

Nor did it matter how many times she reminded herself that Taylor was in meetings and workshops and wouldn’t be checking her phone anyway. All she could think about was Taylor and Carter, alone together in an anonymous conference hotel. All she could do was pray that she had done a good enough job of rekindling Taylor’s feelings for Ian that this would be nothing more than...than a test. That was right. This was a test, and Taylor would make it through, and when she came home she would know deep in her bones that she was truly, passionately, forever in love with Ian. They would be married by Christmas and start popping out babies and live happily ever after.

At least that was the plan.

She had decided against going back to the cabin to work, opting to camp out in Taylor’s office. She figured she had more chance of accomplishing anything festival-related if she stayed here as opposed to where she had spent the weekend having hot humping-bunny sex while Taylor tried to call her....

Oh, God. Please let it have been nothing more than an update call.

Brynn pulled out her dance notebook and began making notes. She’d scribbled a few thoughts during rehearsals, ideas about how to ramp up the moves and highlight all her dancers’ strengths, but now she needed to integrate them. Perhaps if she shifted things so Carter was up front...

She was so absorbed in her plans that she gave a little start when she heard a sharp knock at the door.

“Oh!” She looked up to see Moxie eyeing her with that canny expression that always made her feel like she was doing something wrong. She jumped to her feet. “Mrs. North, sorry, you—”

“Brynn, I am tired of telling you to call me Moxie. If I have to say it again, you’re fired. Got it?”

“Got it. Yes. Sorry. So, Moxie.” Brynn leaned back against her desk to steady herself. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, you can show me what had you so lost to the world that you nigh-on had a heart attack just now.”

“Sure. I was going over the dance. The original lineup was a good start, but I thought if we played around with where some folks are standing...” She showed Moxie the various options, debating the pros and cons of Millie’s cuteness versus Carter’s flair. Moxie, as always, had some thoughts that managed to give Brynn a new perspective.

“You know, I think that’s exactly what I was looking for. This is great. I should have known you would have the perfect solution.”

Moxie sniffed. “That CEO thing isn’t just honorary, you know.”

“I’m seeing that more and more.”

“I bet you are.” Moxie straightened, placing a hand to her back but waving away Brynn’s offer of a chair. “So tell me. Do you think Hank is going to pull off this cabin thing in time?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re living there, too. You can see what’s going on. Is he on target?”

What was this about? Brynn had spent enough time at Northstar to know that Moxie felt perfectly comfortable hopping back and forth from work to family and combining them at will.

She tipped her head to the side and measured up the older woman. “Are you asking this for official dairy reasons, or as his grandmother?”

Moxie’s grin was all the proof Brynn needed that something was afoot. “Both.”

“Well, then, I can assure you—the head of Northstar—that he is giving one hundred percent to all his endeavors.” Especially those endeavors that left her limp and barely capable of stringing two words together. “But I would tell his grandmother that I’m not part of the family and suggest that if you’re worried, you talk to him yourself.”

“You always this political?”

“Not usually, no.”

“I didn’t think so.” Moxie chuckled. “You have a good head on your shoulders, Brynn. You see things other folks don’t, and you put them together in ways other folks can’t. Probably because the rest of us are too close. But you—you have a fresh eye. Good instincts, too, I’d wager.”

“I really hope you’re not planning to ask me to spy for you, Moxie. I’d hate to have to say no to someone who has such a high opinion of me.”

Moxie sighed. “Damn. I knew you’d see through me.”

“Seriously?” Oh, dear heaven. “You weren’t really—”

“Oh, God no, girl. Get over yourself. I wouldn’t do that to my own family. Besides, I do all my own snooping. More accurate and a hell of a lot more fun.”

And that was supposed to be reassuring?

“Let’s just say that you have insight into Hank that the rest of us don’t.”

If Moxie suspected anything, Brynn could bid farewell to secrecy, privacy or subtlety.

“Be that as it may...”

“Relax. I don’t want you to do anything devious. But I worry that he’s burning the candle at both ends and all that crap. That boy always did push himself, first from trying to keep up with his brothers, then from doing the single-parent thing. No help allowed. Bit of a damned fool, if you ask me, ’cause who doesn’t need a hand every once in a while?” She shook her head. “It almost killed him to move back in with me and his folks after Heather left. I prit near fell off my chair when I found out he was letting you help with Millie. That’s not his usual style.”

“I had that impression.” Now she was doubly glad she’d made him see reason.

“I don’t want him to work himself sick. If I say anything, he’ll tell me everything’s fine, but he listens to you. Talk him into taking a few days off. Maybe the next time Millie goes to her mother’s. He thinks he can’t, that he has too much to do, but I believe I saw a difference in him today.”

How the hell was she supposed to respond to that one?

“Interesting. Well. How about... Look, family stuff is off-limits for me, but I can promise to talk to him. One adult to another. But that’s as far as I can go.” Except, of course, for doing her level best to make sure that his next solo weekend was even more rejuvenating than this one had been.

“Fair enough. I suppose I can’t ask for anything else.” Moxie smacked her hands together and headed toward the door. When she reached the entryway, she turned back and gave Brynn a pointed look. “By the way, you might want to adjust that scarf a bit if you want to keep pretending you’re wearing it just for show.”

She winked and moved into the hall far faster than anyone her age should ever be capable of doing. Brynn clapped a hand to her neck and lunged for her purse. She pawed through the contents until she found a pocket mirror. She held it out, yanked the scarf out of the way and angled it so she could see the length of her neck.

Nothing.

She closed her eyes and offered a prayer of thanks. Moxie definitely didn’t play fair.

But Brynn couldn’t keep herself from admiring the hell out of her anyway.

* * *

S
EVEN
O
’
CLOCK
IN
THE
freakin’ evening, and Taylor still hadn’t called back.

Alone in the communal laundry room that served the cabins, Brynn glared at her phone even as she ordered herself to calm down. There had been a quick text—
Breathe
—but that hadn’t been much consolation. Even as she reminded herself that conference days were jammed, that Taylor was probably in break-out sessions followed by appointments followed by dinner meetings with no chance to return to her room for the privacy this kind of call would require, her panic meter was going off the charts.

Because Carter was there. And Brynn wasn’t. And she was pretty sure Moxie had chosen Carter deliberately.

She grabbed a blouse from the dryer. Yes, in some ways it had made sense to send Carter. He was single, he was family, he was peripherally involved in much of what Taylor did at Northstar. But only peripherally. There were other people who would have gained much more from these sessions.

Instead, Moxie had sent her main legal eagle to the conference. Which was almost as scary as remembering that Carter could easily have said no. The fact that he had willingly gone along with this made her fear that he had an agenda of his own, and that between him and Moxie there was going to be a whole hell of a lot of heartache running through the North family very soon.

“You are such a control freak, Catalano.” She yanked a bra from the dryer and tossed it into her hamper. They said that admitting you had a problem was the first step to defeating it. Too bad this was the exception to the rule. Because if you had to acknowledge your problem to gain control of it, but the problem was that you couldn’t let go of the need to be in control in the first place...

“Argh!” She tossed a pink argyle sock on top of the dryer to await its mate. As she reached back into the still-warm clothes, her phone rang.

“Finally!”

But when she glanced at the display, she saw that the call was from her sister-in-law.

“Hey, Libby. What’s up?”

“Not much. Have you got a minute? Casey wants to say hi.”

“Absolutely.”

Brynn boosted herself up on the dryer and waited for the wet breathing that always accompanied her nephew’s phone conversations. He didn’t bother with a greeting but immediately launched into a story about the dog, his nursery school teacher and SpongeBob SquarePants. She had learned long ago that trying to understand Casey’s calls would only increase the frustration level, so she leaned back, drumming her feet softly against the dryer while listening to the rise and fall of his adorably breathy voice, repeating a few of his words whenever she could understand them. All in all, probably the most satisfying conversation she’d had all day.

After a minute or two she heard him shout, followed by a crash in her ear as the phone fell, and then the sound of Libby’s laughter.

“Sorry about that. Finnegan took off after something, so of course Casey had to follow.”

“Not a prob. But next time could you catch the phone on the way down? I’d like to keep my hearing as long as possible.”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sure. What should I bring?”

“I don’t know. It’s Sam’s night to cook, and I have no idea what he has planned. But why don’t you stop at that new bakery and get some of their stretchy bread? I’ve been craving that for days now.”

“Sure.” But something Libby had said had tweaked her curiosity. “You really don’t know what he’s cooking?”

“Probably chicken of one kind or another. I saw some defrosting in the fridge. Why, have you decided to go radical vegan or something?”

“No, not that. It’s just... I never would have expected a fellow control freak to not have the menu planned for the next month or so.”

“Who says I don’t?” Libby’s laugh was light and playful—and, Brynn suspected, probably aimed at Sam. “But just because I plan it doesn’t mean your brother will follow it.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Car lights flashed through the window. Brynn sat up straighter and glanced at the clock mounted above the vending machine that would soon be filled with one-load boxes of detergent. Hank and Millie were home.

God, she hoped she could get through the evening’s hellos and goodbyes without doing a lovesick-teenager imitation.

With a start, she realized Libby was still speaking. “...comes a point when you have to ask yourself if something is worth the energy. So if we eat chicken four nights in a row, does it really matter? No.”

Brynn remembered Taylor crying out her confession that she thought she was in love with the wrong brother. “But what about when it
does
matter?”

“Oh. Well, then I ask myself, do I really have any control over this? Because sometimes I do, but most of the time, it’s just me being a worrywart. Or, you know, obsessing about something that doesn’t matter because it’s easier than thinking about things that scare the crap out of me.”

“Fixating on fixing someone else and ignoring your own issues? You, Libby?”

“Oh, never.” This time there was a decidedly rueful tone to her laughter. “Of course, sometimes I’m just a tad convinced of my own superhuman abilities.”

Do I really have any control over this?

Brynn leaned forward and stopped drumming her feet, stilled by the impact of Libby’s words.

Do I really have any control over this?

She didn’t. Not anymore. She had done what she could and helped where she was able, but she wasn’t in Calgary and she wasn’t Taylor. And when push came to shove, this was Taylor’s life. Not hers.

“But doesn’t that feel like a cop-out? Like you do what you can and then say, okay, out of my hands now? What about seeing things through, or pushing to make sure something happens, or—”

“Or convincing yourself that the fate of everyone you ever loved rests in your hands?”

It was almost like there were thought balloons floating around Brynn’s head, and Libby had a telescope trained dead on them. This was the last time she would look for advice from someone who was on such a similar wavelength. “Well, when you put it that way...”

“Brynn. You’re not God. Sometimes, you have to do what you can do and then trust other people to do what they can do.” She added, more gently, “You want to tell me what has you so worried?”

An unexpected lump came to Brynn’s throat. “I... Not right now. But thanks. I might take you up on that someday.”

“Anytime, hon. The door is always— Oh, crap. Casey!
Finnegan!
Not that, it’s dead! Gotta go, Brynn. See you tomorrow.”

She hung up before Brynn could stop laughing.

After a moment Brynn shoved the phone back in her pocket and forced herself to resist the urge to check for missed calls or messages. She scooted to the edge of the dryer and dropped to the floor.

Libby was right.

Yes, this situation mattered far more than Libby realized, and the potential problems were greater than she knew. But for at least this moment in time, there was absolutely nothing that Brynn could do about it.