Dating a Single Dad (22 page)

All of a sudden he had a glimmer of what she must have felt the previous night, seeing his lights blaring through the darkness.

Her lights were on and her car was in its usual place, so he knew she hadn’t left. She must be caught up in something. Or maybe—crap—still pissed at him for his behavior last night. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t think that was her style.

He would give her five minutes and then he would—

The door burst open. She blew in, cheeks red, hair swirling around her face. Tension left him in a rush, leaving him glad he was leaning against the back of the couch.

It was a good thing he knew he was wiped out from the hours awake with Millie. Otherwise he would have to talk to himself about overreacting.

“Sorry! Sorry, I turned my phone off earlier because I was planning some things with Taylor, and I forgot to turn it back on and I...well. Here I am.” She breathed in, gave him a slightly lopsided grin. “Unfortunately late, but better than never.”

Whatever had been bothering her in the morning seemed to have been forgiven. Damn, it felt good to let go of that worry. “Not a problem. I’m actually not working in the cabins tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Mills, off the laptop—Daddy needs it now. I’m too tired to be trusted with a hammer tonight, so I figure I’ll work on the website.”

“Makes sense. Millie, how are you surviving?”

Millie didn’t even bother looking up from the screen. “Thumbs are for babies. Ha! You are gonna die, pigs!”

Brynn snorted. “You’re kidding me. Angry Birds?”

He hoped his shrug came off more casual than it felt. “It was a reward, okay?”

“Of course.”

“And it’s not as violent as I thought.”

“Mmm.”

“And it, uh, is kind of fun.”

“Seems to me I’ve heard that before.”

“All right, okay. I was wrong, you were right, I’m sorry.”

She gave a little bark of laughter that veered off into a weird kind of hiccup. Or was it—was she
crying?

“Hey, are you okay?”

She bit down on her lip, seemed to gaze into the distance for a second before shaking her head. “I, um, no. I mean, yes. Fine. Guess I’m still kind of tired, too.”

Of course she was. He wasn’t the only one who had been up half the night.

“Look, maybe we should take a pass. Early bedtimes all around.”

“Daddy, no! Brynn promised she would make my nails pretty after I stopped my thumb!”

There was an edge to Millie’s voice that served as a sharp reminder that she, too, was running close to empty. Lucky for him, before he had to negotiate, Brynn was tweaking Millie’s nose.

“That’s right, kiddo! I bought some super awesome nail polish just for this occasion. Also some glitter paints and sequins to decorate your jeans for the dance. Your lab coat, too, if you want to wear it.”

Millie’s smile dimmed a little as she placed a protective hand over the shirt, but she sat up straighter and eyed the bag in Brynn’s hand.

“Are there sparkles?”

“Would I forget the sparkles?” Brynn’s hand settled over her heart. “I am hurt, hurt, hurt.”

Millie’s giggle told him she would be okay for a while. Brynn, however, still worried him.
Fragile
wasn’t a word he would have ever used to describe her, yet that was how she struck him now. Not just because of the circles under her eyes and the lack of wattage in her smile, but because of something he couldn’t quite identify. She seemed almost hesitant. In other people, that wouldn’t be an issue, especially after the previous evening, but with Brynn?

“Mills, finish up that level. Brynn, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?”

The sudden wariness in her eyes did nothing to reassure him. “Sure.”

He waited for the door to close behind her before crossing his arms and studying her. “Okay. Out with it. Is this because of last night?”

“What? No, I told you, there’s no need to worry about that. I understand and I’m fine. Just a little tired. You take care of business and I’ll hang with Millie and everything will be right as rain.”

“Yeah, and that would explain why you sound like you’re going to fall apart any minute now.” Too late he realized that he had all but dared her to cry. Shit. Millie tears, he could handle. Brynn tears were totally different.

He’d guessed wrong, though.

“Fine. Fine! I was trying to spare your male sensibilities, but since you’re so determined to know the truth, it’s hormones, okay? I’m PMS-ing and everything makes me cry. So hush up and leave me alone and go do your thing.”

He almost believed her. Almost. If she hadn’t thrown in the line about wanting to spare him, he might have bought it. As it was, he had a strong suspicion that the woman who grew up with three brothers was trying to play him.

“Okay. Sorry I asked.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “There’s some leftover Easter chocolate in the freezer if you need it.”

She hadn’t expected that one. He could tell by the sudden widening of her eyes. His alert level was veering from pink to red—
crap, she’s gonna cry
—when she lunged forward, caught his lips between hers and kissed him with a kind of desperation that had him pulling her tight and molding her to him and wishing, God, wishing—

“Daddy, I killed the piggies!”

He jerked back, automatically swiveling toward the door, but Millie was shouting from the other room. Thank God. Because Brynn was flushed and he was breathing hard and the last thing he could have handled at this moment was an explanation.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He shoved his fingers through his hair, mostly to keep them busy so they wouldn’t latch on to her again. “Yeah, well, if you hadn’t done that I probably would have, so don’t beat yourself up.”

She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, a faint smile played over her lips.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Believe me.”

She ran a hand down his chest, lightly, but it was enough to make him step closer. When he realized what he had done he pulled back, but her touch left a trail that was leading him to places he knew he shouldn’t go but wanted to follow anyway.

“Brynn...”

“What?”

He hesitated. These were words that couldn’t be unsaid. But he wanted to say them anyway.

“You never said what you’re going to do after you’re done here.”

She averted her gaze, a gesture he was learning to hate. “I have plans. Family stuff.”

“In the area?”

She kept her focus firmly on the floor, but the hunch of her shoulders told him everything he needed to know.

Okay. It had been a good thought, but obviously there was no future in this. Not that he was looking for a future.

Except he might be. Not a full-fledged future, nothing definite or permanent, but if things were different...if she were going to be around...

Knowing that she wasn’t going to be there much longer made it more important to say what was in his heart. “If you were staying...”

He stopped. He had to touch her while he said this. He didn’t dare go for skin, so he reached for her hair, feeling the little kinks and curls wind around his fingers just like the way she curled herself around him after they made love.

“If you were staying, I would want to keep seeing you,” he said softly. “To see where this might lead.”

Her eyes closed, but not before he saw the sorrow building in them. “I would have liked that, too.”

It was the truth. He could tell. She wasn’t leaving because she wanted to but because she was promised elsewhere. Because her family needed her.

He could have accepted that a lot easier if he hadn’t seen her sleeping with Millie and for one brief moment they had felt like a family themselves.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
,
as soon as the clock hit noon, Brynn saved the file she’d been working on, checked to make sure there were no urgent emails or festival-related messages and, certain that the coast was clear, turned to Taylor.

“Ready if you are.”

Taylor paled a bit but nodded. “Let’s go.”

They exited the building together and walked to their cars. A few minutes and one drive-thru later they were at Taylor’s apartment, huddled over her tiny excuse for a kitchen table.

Brynn peeled the foil from her container of curry chicken. “Okay, kiddo. Let’s go over this. Have you decided what to say to Ian?”

“I think so.” Taylor stared into her bowl of lamb tikka masala and wrinkled her nose. “This will be a good day for it, I think. He’s coming to the end of his biggest project and doesn’t have anything major on the horizon. The end is nigh, and all that crap.” Her soft sigh echoed through Brynn. “Okay. So I was thinking I would let him spill about his day like always, just in case something horrific has happened, but—”

“No.” Brynn slugged some water and shook her head. “Unless somebody has died, which I highly doubt, there’s no way his day could be bad enough to keep you from doing this.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Your plans are set. You’re as ready as you can be. And remember, hon. Every day you put it off is another day you’re lying to him.” Her throat tightened.
Hank.
“Lying to someone you care about... That sucks. For both of you.”

Taylor nodded. “You’re right. So, I say hi, I make sure he’s alone, and then I say, Ian, I’m so sorry, but even though I care about you very much, I don’t love you the way I should for us to have the kind of marriage we both want. So I’m ending our engagement and—” here, for the first time, her voice faltered “—and leaving Comeback Cove.”

“He’ll have questions. And he’ll try to change your mind.”

“I know. I’m ready.”

“He’s going to ask if there’s someone else.”

Taylor nodded. “I still don’t have a good answer to that one.”

“I know. If you stick to the party line about not loving him the right way, he’s going to see right through you. If you flat-out deny, he probably won’t believe you.”

“And I don’t think I could say it without breaking down.”

Oh, hell, this was going to be tricky. “You’ll probably be crying already.”

“Yeah, I will. But I still think he’s going to see through it.”

“Maybe...” Brynn scooped up some curry, chewed, made a face. “Maybe you could pull a half-truth. Tell him that you have been faithful, but that you have found yourself being, I don’t know, drawn to someone else. And that’s what made you realize that this wasn’t meant to be.”

“Because if I was truly in love with him I wouldn’t be having those feelings about another guy. I could get through that one, I think. And it’s true.”

“He’s going to ask who.”

“I’ll tell him it’s irrelevant. Nothing happened, nothing will ever... Oh, crap, if I say that I’ll really fall apart.”

“Then don’t. Just tell him there’s no point in naming names because all that matters is what’s between the two of you.”

Taylor nodded. “I can do that.”

“What are you going to do about the ring?”

“I’ll give it to Moxie when I hand in my resignation.”

“And when will you do that?”

“Right after I hang up with Ian.” She smiled weakly. “And maybe have a quick belt of vodka, because Moxie scares me.”

“Okay. You got your most important things out of the office, right?”

“Right. And here’s the list of what I’d like you to grab. Moxie will probably let me pack up, but I won’t be thinking too clearly.”

“True.” Brynn tapped the back of Taylor’s hand. “Carter?”

Taylor swallowed. “He’s in Brockville today.”

So no goodbyes. “That’s probably the best way to handle it, hon.”

Taylor nodded silently. For a moment the only sound was her breathing, short and choppy. Then she shoved her take-out box aside.

“God, I hate lamb tikka.”

“I like it.” Brynn eyed the box longingly. “But I’m not going to finish it. I don’t want to associate it with today.”

“Which is why I said Indian instead of burgers.” Taylor’s mouth crumpled and she bent over, cushioning her face in her arms. “Oh, Brynn. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.”

Brynn dropped her fork and moved to kneel beside Taylor, pulling her close. “I know, sweetie. I know. Just keep reminding yourself that once you get through this, you’re going to get on that plane and the worst will be behind you.”

“It feels like I’m running away. Like I’m throwing everyone into a horrible situation and flying off to Bermuda.”

“For one thing, Charlottetown is very nice, but it’s hardly Bermuda. For another, once you’ve said your piece, would it help anyone to have you here?”

“No.” She sat up and wiped her eyes. “I know that. But...everyone I love is here.”

“I know. And someday... Someday, maybe, you can come back. But you have a good friend waiting there for you. It won’t be home but you’ll have her, and she will get you through the worst.”

Taylor nodded silently and mopped more tears. “I will be so glad to hit the point when I stop crying every other minute.”

If you were staying, I would want to keep seeing you. To see where this might lead.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I know.”

They sat silently. At last, Taylor breathed in.

“I, um, guess I’d better get to it.”

“You’re sure you want me to leave?”

Taylor nodded.

“Text me when you’re done.”

Another nod.

“If you need me to do anything else...”

“Right.”

How could one little word carry so much pain?

Brynn reached, but Taylor shook her head, her hand pressed tight to her mouth.

At that, Brynn’s gut twisted. All the words she longed to say crowded together in her throat, but for Taylor’s sake, she swallowed them down.

“Love you,” she whispered, and closed the door.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

B
ACK
IN
THE
OFFICE
,
Brynn was too restless to focus. She filled a box with the items from Taylor’s list—a plant, a couple of books, some funny cartoons—and hid it beside the desk.

She opened a file. Typed two sentences. Closed it.

Checked her voice mail. Nothing.

Checked her email. Two things, neither of which she trusted herself to deal with at the moment.

Opened her drawers. Pulled out a pencil decorated with Angry Birds.

Hank.

She dropped the pencil, buried her face in her hands. God, this sucked so bad.

She longed to tell him the truth, to make this easier for him. But she couldn’t. She had promised Taylor and she had to keep that promise. And she couldn’t, absolutely
couldn’t
let him know the whole story, the parts that would only lead to more pain.

But oh, God. To think that last night was to be their last time together? With her a weeping fool and Millie killing pigs on the other side of the door?

No.

She couldn’t do anything more for Taylor, or for Carter or Ian or anyone else who was impacted by this whole damned mess. But she could do something for Hank. Something for her.

She could give them one more memory before reality pushed in on them. One moment to stop faking and be real. One stolen hour to let herself show what she wished to hell wasn’t true.

One brief moment to let herself be in love with Hank.

* * *

H
ANK
WAS
IN
THE
Grenadier cabin with the windows open, the music cranked and his shirt off—all the better to enjoy the first truly warm day of the year. There was nothing like sawing and sunshine to work up a sweat. After months of snow, cold and damp, he was more than ready.

“‘Here comes the sun,’” he sang, wondering if George Harrison had ever suspected how many folks would think the song was written with them in mind. Because as he measured and cut, hammered and sweated, all he could think was—yeah. He’d had his winter, and it had been a bitch. But maybe now the sun was coming back.

Or maybe it had been there all along, but he’d needed some help cracking the door to let it in.

This floor was the last major repair on his list. He still had about twelve thousand little things, but they would be easy to knock off, and none of them were essential. The festival folks could set up next week and he could breathe easy knowing that the inaugural guests would have safe, solid accommodations for the Victoria Day weekend.

Barring some kind of disaster, and despite the curveball of hosting the festival, he might actually pull this off.

He was setting the final floorboard in place when a shadow blocked the sunbeams pouring through the door. He looked up, startled, and settled back with a smile when he saw the cause. Brynn stood in the middle of the light, her hands in the pockets of the full skirt that was rippling in the light breeze.

“Hey. What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Playing hooky?”

She glanced around the cabin, her gaze lingering on the sawhorse, the wood scraps, the pile of sawdust. She walked to where he sat on his haunches, looked at the floor and dropped down, her skirt spreading around her like a puddle of pink roses.

Whoa.

“I had something that was best done away from the office,” she said.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

Instead of answering with words, she leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss.

Taken by surprise, blindsided by the movement and the rush of heat, he lost his balance. Instinct had him clutching her as he swayed. She sighed against his mouth and grabbed his arms and tipped with him to the ground. He landed awkwardly, half on his side, half on his back, but still she stayed with him, clinging, kissing, driving the breath from his lungs.

He pulled his mouth away.

“Whatever you were working on before you got here, I really, really approve.”

She made an odd sound—almost like she was holding back a sob—but then she kissed him again. Not the teasing kind of kiss he would have expected given the fact they were in the middle of an unfinished cabin in the middle of a workday, but frantic ones laced with some underlying tension that had his arms closing tighter around her even as his brain whispered,
Hang on, something’s off here.

“Brynn?”

She shook her head and silenced him with another kiss. Her breath came in harsh gasps that echoed off the bare walls. Something was definitely wrong, but before he could ask she pushed him flat on his back and straddled him and, sweet Jesus, she wasn’t wearing anything under the skirt.

His head started spinning. Something wasn’t right, she was too intense, but she was tugging her shirt over her head and—oh, God—there was nothing under there, either, except skin and heat and invitation. She curled forward so her hair spilled across his chest and moved against him, and if he’d had any doubt of her plans, it was knocked aside by her hand at the snap of his jeans.

“Brynn?”

“No words,” she whispered against his heart. “No questions.”

A mighty fine offer, but there was one thing he would never let himself forget.

“Brynn. Babe. I don’t carry condoms in my toolbox.”

She sat up, thighs gripping his hips as if she feared he might try to leave, and pulled a most welcome foil packet from her skirt pocket. She pressed it into his hand and curled his fingers around the edges. The corners dug into his palm but he didn’t care because she was bracing herself against his shoulders and curling against him and he knew that as soon as he could make himself let go of her, his jeans would be history.

His palms ran along the smoothness of her thighs, cupped her cheeks and pulled her tighter, urged her forward until her breasts settled in his hands and his thumbs were sliding across her nipples and she was making that sound again, the one that had haunted him all through the long days since the time he pushed her up against the wall, the little half gasp that made him feel strong and hot and so damned complete each time he remembered it.

She drew back. Kissed and nipped her way down his chest. Made short work of his jeans and the condom and then, ah, then she was sliding over him, taking him into herself, her skirt still flowing around them like some kind of weird curtain, but it didn’t matter because it was Brynn and she was all round him and she needed him and—

Something trickled onto his chest. Soft. Powdery. He opened his eyes and tried to make sense of it but it didn’t make sense because he could swear it was—

“Sawdust?”

She tipped her hand so more of the fine powder dribbled over his skin and back to the floor. She rubbed it into him, mixing it with his sweat, pouring it over her own chest and bending to kiss him again.

“Every time you’re working, every time you smell sawdust, you’re going to remember this. You’re going to remember us.” She rubbed her cheek against his jaw and kissed him right below his ear. “You’re going to remember me.”

* * *

H
IS
BREATH
WAS
still coming in ragged gasps and Brynn was collapsed on his chest when Hank gripped her shoulders and pushed her upright, trying to see into her eyes. The fact that she kept her face averted sent a new and most unwelcome kind of shudder running through him.

“Hey. Not that I didn’t appreciate what just happened, but this wasn’t... You aren’t— What’s wrong?”

She rounded her shoulders, shrinking away from him and reaching for her shirt. She pulled her top over her head without once meeting his eyes. Gone were the teasing, the laughter, the saucy smiles that he associated with Brynn afterglow. He was getting colder and more fidgety by the minute, and lying on the ground half-naked sure as hell wasn’t helping the situation.

“Brynn.” He pushed to his knees, tugged his jeans into place. “What’s going on?”

She started to stand but crumpled back to the floor. He reached for her but she shook her head and shrank away from hm.

“Don’t. Please. If you do, I’ll never get through this.”

“Get through—”

“Taylor is breaking up with Ian.”

“What?”

She drew in a deep breath and twisted her hands together in front of her. “She was calling him as soon as I left. She’s leaving the dairy and flying to Charlottetown tonight.”

“She— Wait. What? Why is she— Why are you— I mean, I know she’s your cousin, but why are you—”

“Because I told her to do it.”

Brynn told Taylor to leave.
Cold dread crept through him even as he shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. And why did you— Start over, okay? From the beginning. Because I’m not following this.”

She stared out the window and spoke in a voice so flat that he would never have believed it was hers. “Back in January she came to me and told me she wasn’t in love with Ian anymore. I told her she was wrong, that she just missed him. I told her I could fix it. Because, see, I can fix everything, and I was sure that it was just a matter of reminding her of things, getting her head on straight....” Her voice thickened. She looked up, swallowed, tried a couple of times before speaking again. “I was so certain...I talked her into it. She convinced you guys to hire me so I could be close to her. The whole time I’ve been here, I’ve been trying to force her to fall back in love with him, because I thought, hey, all I had to do was find the right switch and everything would be better.” She slumped back against the wall, covered her face with her hands. “I was such an idiot. I had no idea...no idea at all what I was playing with. No idea what love really means.”

He pushed to his feet, knees still weak and untrustworthy. “So the last four months have been a lie?”

“For Taylor. Yes.” Her eyes filled. “But not for—”

“Don’t.” If she tried to bring them into it, her and him and Millie, he would never get back to what mattered. To Ian.

He grabbed his shirt, pressed it to his face for a second, let it fall to his side. “You told Taylor to leave. To run away.” It was like a neon sign in his brain, red and glowing and blocking out everything else.
Run away. Walk away. Move on.

No. Ian. He had to think about Ian.

“Why now? If she’s known this for months, what changed?” His gut twisted. He knew what had changed, and it had nothing to do with Ian and Taylor. But that made no sense. He had to be wrong, there had to be something—

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” About Taylor. Taylor and Ian. Because Brynn couldn’t really be doing this over the two of them. Could she?

She didn’t move.

“God dammit, Brynn, what else? Did she steal from the dairy, or cheat on Ian, or—”

“No! No, God, no, Hank. I swear to you, she hasn’t—hasn’t taken anything or done anything wrong. She doesn’t love Ian but she cares about him, she never... Her biggest mistake was in listening to me.”

The way he had listened?

“Then why the rush? Why now? Why not wait until he’s home?” He rose to his feet. “What are you hiding, Brynn?”

She crossed her arms over her stomach and pressed, so hard that he could see the push of her biceps. There was something else and she knew it and she wasn’t going to tell him.

“I’m moving out of the cabin. Going to Taylor’s.”

It shouldn’t have hurt. He should have expected it. But hearing the words made it worse. Harder.
Real.

“Of course you’re leaving.”

She scrambled to her feet and looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since walking into the cabin. He saw the tears, saw about a hundred shades of regret and sorrow and hurt and, damn him, he wanted to hold her and tell her it would be okay,
they
would be okay.

But he couldn’t. She was running away, just like he had known she would.

“Leaving is what you do best, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Come on, Brynn. You’re not leaving because of Taylor.”

She took a small step back. Shook her head.

But didn’t say a word.

“I told myself you weren’t leaving by choice. I thought, oh, if things were different... But I was wrong. Leaving is your thing.”

Her mouth moved in a silent
no.

“Oh, yeah, Brynn. Maybe you can keep lying to yourself, but I can’t. Not anymore. The temp jobs, the ‘walk away, Millie,’ the ‘accept and move on,’ the ‘oh, yes, I would want to keep seeing you’—you see a pattern here?” He balled up his forgotten shirt, threw it into the corner. “You know what? Leave. Now. Go ahead. It’s better this way. At least I won’t be walking around for the next two weeks wondering how much time, wondering what if...”

“You knew. You knew we were never going to be more than this.”

“Yeah, I knew. But I wasn’t spending the whole time we were together planning how to get away.” He stalked to the corner, grabbed his shirt, shook off the sawdust that clung to the fabric. “Tell the truth. If things had been different and you could have stayed, how long would it have taken? How long until you got bored with me and Millie and invented some reason to take off?”

“I wasn’t...”

“Last night, when you stood in my kitchen and said that if you were staying, you would have wanted to see where this might lead—were your bags already packed, Brynn? When you were crying and kissing me, were you busy thanking Taylor for giving you a ready-made excuse to get out before things got too serious?”

She walked to the door, leaving him reeling in the middle of the empty space with her words pounding through him and the scent of sawdust all but choking him. When she reached the threshold, she stopped and turned back.

“I know you won’t believe me. I don’t blame you. But you and me... None of that was a lie. Not one minute.”

With that, she walked away, her footsteps sounding softly on the porch and then fading as she stepped to the ground. He watched through the door and then the window as she walked up the path and disappeared into the stand of maples.

She was leaving. She was going to pack up her car if she hadn’t already, and he was going to be left here, without answers, trying to console his child, who wouldn’t understand.