Dating a Single Dad (23 page)

And even though his head kept telling him that his brother had been handed a far worse blow, his heart was having a hell of a time believing it.

* * *

B
RYNN
WOULDN
’
T
HAVE
thought it possible to be even less focused when she returned to work than before she ducked out. Turns out it was.

The building was quiet. People were leaving for the day. She would normally have been preparing to hit the road herself, but today she dreaded the thought. Taylor’s apartment was so filled with memories and sorrows that she could scarcely breathe when she was there.

But she couldn’t stay in the cabin. Couldn’t look out the window and see the lights of Hank’s house and know they were forever closed to her. Choking on memories was infinitely better than drowning in regrets and hearing the echo of Hank’s accusations and wondering—

“Well, Miss Catalano. It’s been quite an afternoon around here.”

Brynn whirled toward the door, where Moxie stood as stiff as a guard at Buckingham Palace. Though Brynn doubted that even the most devoted sentinel could defend the queen as ardently as she was sure Moxie was about to protect her family.

Brynn started to rise but Moxie pointed to the chair.

“Sit.”

Brynn sat.

Moxie advanced slowly. “I’m not going to bore you with the details, because as I understand it, you have known about them far longer than I would have believed. What matters now is the future.”

Brynn nodded.

“I understand that you are willing to continue on here through the festival, ensuring it goes off as planned.”

“That’s correct.”

“And that Taylor has briefed you on the most pressing of her duties, leaving you prepared to carry them out until such time as we can hire someone new for the position.”

Again, Brynn nodded. There seemed to be no point in using actual words. Moxie was well aware of everything and anything Brynn would have tried to say.

“It seems you two gave this a great deal of thought.”

“We wanted to keep the disruption and...and the hurt to a minimum.”

“So I understand.” Moxie ran a finger over her wedding band. “I’m guessing this is the family commitment you referred to when you turned down the job.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, at least that part makes more sense now.”

It was the first thing Moxie had said that wasn’t true, for none of this made sense. Not one bit.

“For the love of God, I hope this is the last commitment on your plate.” Moxie peered at her. “Or should we be bracing for another explosion?”

Carter.
“This should be the end of it.”

Moxie frowned. “Interesting answer.”

“It’s the most truthful one I can give, I’m afraid. Reading the future has never been one of my talents.”

Moxie gave her that look again—the one that left Brynn feeling like she was being put through a combination X-ray/MRI scan.

“You are a careful one, aren’t you?”

Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. Moxie knew there was more. Or at the very least, she was highly suspicious.

“Not careful,” she said softly. “Just...trying to make the best of a lousy situation.”

“Humph. Going for the understatement-of-the-year award, are you?” Moxie shook her head. “Tell me the truth, girl. People are going to be pissed as hell with you, especially being as how Taylor isn’t here to face the music. Do you think you can shrug that off and keep running the festival?”

“I’ve worked through worse.”

“Fine. I understand you have about a month to help us while we get someone new here. Until then, I expect you to give three hundred and ninety-eight percent to this company with every breath you take. Is that clear?”

“Very.” And probably more than she deserved.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. But let me give you fair warning, miss.” Moxie leaned forward, her gaze boring into Brynn’s. “If anything goes wrong, I’m holding you responsible. And believe you me, that’s not a position I would want to be in at all.”

* * *

A
COUPLE
OF
DAYS
after his world went to hell, Hank ended his call, shoved the phone back in his pocket and let loose with all the curses that had filled his brain during his conversation but had remained locked up because, geez, who says those kind of things to his grandmother?

Feelings temporarily vented, he yelled down the hall.

“Mills! We have dance rehearsal tonight after all.”

She flew out of her room, lab coat flapping, and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “But you said—”

“I know.” He had been sure the dance would be nixed now that Taylor was gone. Who could expect Ian to get up there and high-step it when everyone watching would know that he had just had his heart handed to him on a silver platter?

Apparently, Moxie had no trouble with it.

“Your great-grandmother says we need to do this no matter what. So let’s get going.”

Millie skipped down the hall. “But this is good, Daddy! Brynn will be there and we haven’t seen her since she left. I miss her!”

You aren’t the only one, kiddo.

He grabbed his shoes and shoved his feet inside, directing all his swearing abilities at himself now. He’d been an idiot. A complete and total numskull. He’d known something was up and he’d talked himself into believing Brynn wasn’t the kind to walk away.

Yeah. That had worked out really well.

His logical brain insisted on pointing out that really, all Brynn had done was speed up the inevitable, that she would have left no matter what. It didn’t help. He’d been doing a damned fine imitation of a zombie ever since Brynn packed up her hatchback and drove off to Taylor’s place. And to be honest, half the reason he’d been hoping they would shit-can the dance was because he didn’t know how he was supposed to be in the same room with her, knowing what she had done but wanting her just the same.

Damned Moxie. Damned festival. Stupid damned idiot self.

Half an hour later he was in his familiar place in the Northstar lobby, doing his best to avoid looking at Brynn. She stood alone by the floor-to-ceiling windows, sketching things in that blue notebook, scratching them out and drawing again.

Millie, of course, had burst in and overflowed with hugs and stories. He had settled for a nod. The only consolation was that no one else seemed to know how to deal with Brynn, either. If it were possible to measure sidelong glances and lowered voices, he was pretty sure the Norths would set a new record tonight.

“There’s Uncle Car!” Millie stopped twirling in circles and ran to throw her arms around Carter, who had scooted in from the interior stairs. He must not have seen her coming for instead of catching her in his usual bear hug, he stumbled backward and almost landed flat on his ass. In fact, if Hank didn’t miss his guess, Millie was the one who kept them both upright.

It seemed Carter was losing some of that porn-star snap in his old age.

“Sorry I’m late.” He steadied Millie, who wrinkled her nose and backed away.

Brynn studied him for a long moment before shaking her head and heading to the table.

“Okay.” Her voice was pure steel. She glanced at her notebook, bit her lip, but tilted her chin up. “Here’s the new lineup.”

He’d heard more enthusiasm from Millie on the way to her last dentist checkup. They made it through the warm-up and then the first verse with barely a stumble. A miracle, considering he was pretty sure none of them were focused on the moves tonight. Midway through the chorus, Carter missed a step and slammed into his side.

“Ow!”

Carter glanced at him. “Jesus, Hank. Watch where you’re going.”

“I didn’t—” he began, but Brynn shook her head.

“Keep going. It’s good practice in case there’s a problem when we’re live.”

He scowled but counted the beats and stepped back into the song, feeling a tiny burst of pride at being able to find his place again. One thing was sure: Brynn’s line about being ready for anything that might happen during the actual performance was pretty accurate. If they could make it through this rehearsal they could get through any—

“Shit!”

He saw Carter heading for him just in time to step out of the way. Too late for Carter, though, who grabbed for him, missed and promptly kissed the tiles.

“Jesus H.—” Carter’s words were lost in a rush of questions from the rest of the clan.

“Carter, are you okay?”

“Uncle Car, you fell!”

“For the love of God, boy, go home before you hurt someone.”

Brynn’s voice, low in his ear, was the only one that registered. “Help him up. He’s drunk.”

What the hell?

Shoving aside the reflexive jolt of pleasure at her nearness—
over, dammit
—he reached for Carter, bent extra low and sniffed. Sure enough, Carter’s breath was laced with rye and Coke.

He glanced at Brynn, hating himself for turning to her, but not too proud to admit that she was the one with the clearest head. She bit her lip and leaned in close.

“Get him out of here, please.” Standing, she said loud enough for all to hear, “Oops. Guess that stomach bug decided it wasn’t finished with Carter. Let’s call a halt. If anyone wants to stay and practice one-on-one, I’ll stick around a while. Everyone else, sorry for dragging you out. I should have realized this was too much to ask tonight.”

“Bossy bitch, isn’t she?” Carter said from his oh-so-dignified perch on the floor.

“Carter North!” Ma tried to get in close, probably to dispense a whap across Carter’s thick skull, but Hank leaned in to play barrier.

“Let’s go, Carter.”

“Why? Just because she said so?” Carter leered up at Hank. “Do you let her boss you around like that when you’re—”

Hank didn’t pause. Didn’t think. Just grabbed his stupid brother by his crisp white shirt and hauled him upright.

“We’re leaving because you’re a dumb-ass, Car. Now move it.”

He gave Carter a none-too-gentle shove toward the door. Carter took a couple of slow steps before stopping and turning back to the family clustered together.

“Sorry, folks.” Some of his bravado slipped away. “Seems I made a royal mess of things again.”

Again?

Hank glanced at Brynn. While everyone else seemed puzzled or surprised—or, in Moxie’s case, slightly sad—Brynn looked mostly resigned. Like she’d been expecting something along these lines.

She met his gaze, shook her head the tiniest bit and put her hand on Millie’s head.
Home,
she mouthed. He got the message.

He followed Carter out the door and headed for the parking lot, curious, worried and hoping against hope that Carter’s next royal mess wouldn’t land all over the front seat of the truck.

* * *

B
EING
BACK
IN
Hank’s home hurt.

Brynn had known it would be awkward to step back into the house where she and Hank and Millie had spent so much time laughing and learning about each other. She had expected the wave of sadness that hit her the minute she walked into the kitchen and saw Hank’s plaid jacket hanging from the hook by the door.

But she hadn’t realized how much it would hurt. How each step through the familiar rooms and the sight of Millie’s Angry Birds drawing on the refrigerator, and the lingering scent of Hank’s beloved dark roast coffee, would drive home the message of loss.

Standing in his living room, holding a picture of him and Millie from last Halloween—Millie in a SpongeBob costume, Hank wearing a goofy smile and a Han Solo vest and blaster—the ache gripped her throat.

Dear God, but she missed him.

It made no sense. She’d known him barely three months. How could he have become such a part of her in such a short amount of time?

But running her finger over his long frame in the picture, remembering moments when she had held him close, she knew.

This was why Taylor had wanted to be near Carter, even when she couldn’t be with him. This was why her mother had said she didn’t know if she could send her father away again, even after he made a mockery of their marriage.

But it was more. It was why Sam and Libby smiled each time the other walked into the room. Why Hank’s parents looked first to each other during meetings. Why, even though it had made no sense at all for her to ask Hank to take care of Carter tonight, he had been the first one she turned to.

Because he was part of her. Knit into her by love.

And she had the horrible feeling that he might have been right about the real reason she had urged Taylor to end things when she did.

* * *

I
T
WAS
JUST
a minute or two after she kissed Millie good-night that the door opened. She risked a peek from her spot at the kitchen table. He seemed tired and worried and frustrated, his hair was a picture in wildness, and the moment he spotted her she could see his emotional shields snap into place—yet she had to force herself to stay seated instead of sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his shoulder the way she longed to do.

“Millie asleep?”

“Probably not. The lights went off just a couple of minutes ago.”

He nodded and peeled off his sweatshirt, giving her a moment to drink in the sight of his chest, the strip of skin where his T-shirt rode up. It would be warm, she knew. And she was so very cold...

“How’s Carter?”

“You tell me.”

“Sorry?”

His shrug was far too casual. “Come on, Brynn. You’re the one who knows all my family secrets, and you sure as hell didn’t look surprised when he showed up plastered. Seems to me you probably have a better idea than I do.”

How was she supposed to fake it through this one? She couldn’t think of anything to say other than the truth—the one thing that would do more damage than good.

She chose to go with a much older fact.

“My father used to come home drunk sometimes. I got good at spotting the signs very fast.”

He studied her for a second before nodding. “I’ll give you that one. ’Course, that doesn’t explain
why
my tight-assed brother decided to hide out in his office after work and get shit-faced.”