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Pragmatic accountant Bob Hodgkin groaned. “It’s too soon to be talking about Christmas! We’re still over three weeks away from Thanksgiving.”
“It’s never too soon for Christmas,” his wife piped in. “I love every minute of it.”
While the others fell into a spirited discussion about the proper date to put up Christmas decorations, Elle glanced up at Shane with a smile. “I’ve had a nice time,” she said quietly, “but I really should be getting home now. I have to get a very early start in the morning.”
“Of course.”
“You need a lift home, Elle?”
“Thank you, Lori, but Shane has already offered me a ride.” It wasn’t all that far to her house, but would have required crossing a couple of busy streets on foot in the dark and in post-festival traffic, so she would take him up on that offer.
Six pairs of eyes turned immediately to the outsider in their midst. Though he’d been graciously welcomed, it was obvious he was still being assessed. Elle bit back a smile at the clear warning being implicitly sent: We watch out for our own.
Judging by the way Shane blinked, he got the message.
He walked with her to his car, which he’d parked close to the north entrance of the park. She handed him his jacket before climbing in, then buckled her seat belt as Shane slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Turn left out of the parking lot, then right at the next intersection.”
He put the car into gear. “Got it.”
What should have been a ten-minute drive came to an abrupt stop on Salt Marsh Avenue, where both lanes of post-festival traffic were brought to a complete stop by a three-car wreck not far ahead. Craning her neck to peer around the vehicles in front of them, Elle could see flashing lights just arriving to the scene. “This could take a while,” she said with a groan.
“I hope no one’s hurt.”
She could see shadowy figures climbing out of all three crumpled cars, illuminated by streetlamps and headlights from the cars idling around them. “From what I can tell, it looks like everyone’s okay. I think a couple of those cars are going to have to be towed out of the way, though. Unfortunately, there’s no alternate route from where we’re sitting. If we’d turned right out of the park instead of left...”
Shane shrugged. “So we’ll wait. Maybe they’ll get a lane cleared quickly.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Traffic jams aren’t exactly common in our sleepy little town. Even during peak season. I could walk from here if you—”
“No reason for that. Obviously, I’m not going anywhere soon. This gives us a chance to talk a bit more, anyway. What did you think of the concert?”
“It was fun. Not my type of music for everyday listening, but I enjoyed it tonight.”
They chatted about music for a few minutes, finding common ground in a fondness for smooth jazz combined with good wine. Elle spent a pleasant moment privately fantasizing about sitting by an outdoor fire pit with Shane, wineglasses in hand, softly wailing sax playing from hidden speakers—the type of daydream she hadn’t allowed herself to indulge in for a while.
Headed toward the blocked intersection, a police car equipped with strobing lights and a whooping siren threaded carefully through the line of unmoving vehicles, giving Elle hope that an officer would soon be directing the flow of traffic. Shane waited until the noise had died down before speaking again. “You said your mom moved in with you after your divorce. Do you mind my asking how long that’s been?”
“I’ve been divorced a little more than two years.”
“Does your ex-husband see Charlotte often?”
It made sense, of course, that Shane would assume her ex was Charlotte’s father. And though she owed no explanations, Shane had been candid with her when she’d asked about his family. Besides, she had never planned to hide how Charlotte had come into her life.
“Glenn wasn’t Charlotte’s father,” she said a bit more bluntly than she’d intended. “I adopted her on my own shortly after the divorce. He’s never seen her.”
After a moment, Shane commented, “Definitely his loss.”
She nodded. “Very much so.”
“He wasn’t interested in fatherhood, I take it.”
She shrugged. “I thought he was. We talked about it a lot during our marriage, while he attended law school. He was even involved in the initial steps toward finding a reputable adoption agency and beginning the registration process. But then he suddenly announced that he wasn’t daddy material. And, by the way, he no longer wanted to be a husband, either. He left the law firm he worked for here and moved to California to live a single attorney’s life on the west coast. Maybe he watched a few too many Baywatch reruns.”
She’d spoken lightly to gloss over the emotional turmoil Glenn had put her through, but Shane didn’t smile. “Sounds like sort of a jerk.”
Her smile felt decidedly rueful. “Turned out he sort of was. He was just very good at hiding it for a while.”
“I don’t know much about adoption, but I’ve heard that’s easier to adopt as a single parent than it was in the past.”
“Fortunately, the agency I used was open to single-parent adoption, as was Charlotte’s birth mother. Charlotte was five months old when she came to me, and she had a few special issues, so my application to adopt her was pushed through as soon as my background checks cleared.”
“Um—special issues?”
She saw his hands flex on the steering wheel and figured he was getting restless with the extended delay. Perhaps he kept the conversation going to pass the time—or maybe he was genuinely interested. Regardless, she was always open to chatting about her wonderful daughter, who had already faced so many challenges in her short life and still woke each morning with an eager smile.
“She had surgery for infantile esotropia—basically, crossed eyes—three months after I brought her home. It was nerve-racking and, frankly, expensive, but she came through like a trooper and has done remarkably well since the surgery. Most people would probably never know she’d had an issue with her eyes just by looking at her now, though it was pronounced in the few early photos that were provided to me.”
“I certainly haven’t noticed anything. Was this something she was born with?”
Elle was a little surprised by the gravity of his tone. “Yes. But because newborns don’t focus well, anyway, it probably wasn’t clearly noticeable until she was several weeks old. The surgery isn’t medically necessary, but many studies have shown that the earlier it takes place, the better the outcome in most cases. Believe me, I read all the literature and consulted with several pediatric ophthalmologists before I consented.”
“Will she need follow-up surgeries? Is her vision impaired?”
“In most cases, no follow-up surgery is required, though occasionally some adjustment is needed later. In Charlotte’s case, the procedure seems to have corrected the condition. She’s had age-appropriate vision and depth perception tests during the past year and a half and it looks good so far. Maybe she’ll need corrective lenses at some point, but that’s not such a big problem.”
Shane kept his gaze on the cars ahead, but his attention was obviously still focused on her daughter. “Did you ever meet Charlotte’s birth mother?”
It occurred to her that the conversation was getting personal again, as she and Shane seemed prone to do. She could rationalize her own curiosity with the excuse that a single mom should know as much as she could about the men she brought into her life—if that was even a possibility in this budding friendship.
As for Shane—well, maybe it was understandable that he had questions about the adoption process. She didn’t mind answering a few more. Being Charlotte’s mom was the most important part of her identity. Any man, whether friend or potentially more, who came into her life should be made aware of that.
“No. Though we used an open adoption agency, she didn’t want to meet. I was just grateful she chose me to raise her child after studying the application, personal statement, references and videos I submitted.”
“Did you ever worry that she might—uh...”
Maybe he realized he was being too intrusive. He stopped himself before finishing the question, but she guessed what he’d started to ask. “That she might change her mind? I suppose every adoptive parent has that concern. I can’t imagine how devastating it would be.”
She swallowed hard, then shrugged and deliberately lightened her tone. “Anyway, I’ve gotten beyond that. I’m Charlotte’s mother and nothing can change that now.”
She was prepared for Charlotte to ask questions someday, of course, and she would answer them as truthfully as she could. She would even help if Charlotte wanted to try to track down her biological relatives after she turned eighteen. But she had to admit she was in no hurry for that day to arrive.
A tow truck with an amber light bar flashing on top made its way past them toward the crumpled cars blocking the intersection.
Shane spoke again as he watched the wrecker go by. “Was it difficult? Bonding with a baby already five months old, I mean. Did she—”
Again, she filled in the rest of the question. “Did Charlotte miss her birth mother?”
He shot her a quick glance. “Yeah, I guess that was what I was asking.”
“I was told her birth mother had some personal issues, so Charlotte had a few different caregivers before me. Whether because she missed her mother or because her life had been so unsettled to that point, Charlotte was fussy and seemed anxious the first few days she was with me. I was just yet another adult in her life at that point.”
Having adored Charlotte from the moment she’d first seen her, Elle had worried about that at first—along with all the other anxieties involved in becoming a new single mother. “Fortunately, within a couple of weeks, she seemed to understand that I wasn’t going anywhere. That I would be the one who answered every time she cried. I was with her every minute during her surgery prep and recuperation. Mine was one of the first faces she saw when she woke up afterward. I think she understands by now in her innocent way that I would give my life for her.”
Clearing her throat, she told herself to ease up on the drama, genuine as her sentiment had been. She spoke more casually when she said, “Charlotte and my mom hit it off immediately. They’ve become almost inseparable since. Charlotte adores her Gammy and vice versa. Now it’s as if we’ve all been together since the day Charlotte was born. She’s ours.”
“She is definitely yours.” Shane looked out the windshield as he spoke.
The car ahead of them moved forward and he followed at a cautious distance. “Looks like they’ve cleared one lane,” he said, his tone brisk now. “Should have you home in a few minutes.”
His attention was claimed then by the signals of the police officer directing traffic. They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride except for Elle telling him where to turn. She laced her fingers in her lap, mentally replaying their conversation and wondering if Shane had satisfied his curiosity—or if he’d been trying to learn more about her as someone he might want to get to know better in the future. Now that she thought back over the exchange, it felt almost like an interview.
That absurd thought showed she must be more tired than she’d realized after a busy week, and she still had to be up early in the morning to crank out doughnuts.
“Nice place,” Shane said when he parked in her driveway.
The yellow frame house was trimmed in white with hunter green shutters and a tidy small yard. Elle had always loved it. Especially now that it was where she was raising her daughter.
“Thank you. And thanks for the ride.”
Shane half turned in his seat to look at her. He drew a deep breath, and she had the feeling he was bolstering his courage. The possibility that he was getting up the nerve to ask her out flitted through her mind, but why would he need to brace himself for that, even with the possibility that she would turn him down? Not that she would, but she supposed he couldn’t be sure of that.
“Elle, there’s something—” He broke off with a sigh when her phone beeped with another incoming text. “I know you need to check that.”
With an apologetic half smile, she drew out the phone and read the screen. “Mom says she’s sorry to interrupt, but she can’t find the antacids. I knew she’d regret that second piece of fried chicken.”
He unbuckled his seat belt. “You should go in to her. I’ll walk you to the door.”
She rested a hand lightly on his arm. “Don’t bother getting out. I’m sure Mom’s fine, but I’ll go in and check on her. I have to be at the shop early tomorrow, anyway. I have chocolate-filled doughnuts to make,” she added with a wink.
He nodded, his answering smile looking a little strained as he covered her hand with his. “Do me a favor, okay? Put one of those aside for me. I’m having a breakfast meeting with a potential client in the morning, so it could be midafternoon before I get a chance to come in.”
The warmth from their linked hands flooded pleasantly through her. She’d thought the two glasses of wine she’d imbibed earlier had mostly worn off, but maybe not entirely. “I’ll save you one, all wrapped up so it will stay fresh until you get there.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate that.”
“So...I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You’ll see me tomorrow.”
They sat there for another long moment, hands joined, gazes locked. His eyes glittered in the shadowed car, and she was sure he was thinking about kissing her. Or was she projecting her own curiosity?
Because she wasn’t the kind of woman who coyly waited for a man to make the first move, she leaned forward and took hold of the soft leather lapel of his jacket. She wasn’t even going to blame it on the wine. “Let’s chalk this up to curiosity,” she murmured, then pressed her lips to his.
His startled chuckle was smothered by the kiss that he returned with satisfying enthusiasm after only a heartbeat’s hesitation.
She’d intended the kiss to be brief. Lightly teasing. As she’d said, it had been motivated as much by curiosity as by the attraction she’d felt for him from the start. But what had started as a friendly gesture quickly flared into more. Her fingers tightened on his jacket when his left arm went around her to hold her closer.
Their lips softened, parted, molded together. She felt the slight roughness of evening beard, the heat radiating off him, the strength of the arm holding her. And she was so very tempted to allow the kiss to deepen, to dive in for an even more thorough taste of him. She was only human, and it had been much too long since she’d felt like this...
Shane came to his senses before she did. Drawing back into his seat, he disentangled her hand gently from his coat. “Good night, Elle. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She blinked a couple of times, bringing his face into focus. He wore a faint smile, but his eyes were too shadowed for her to see if the smile spread that far. She honestly had no idea how he felt about her kissing him.
“Good night, Shane.” Rather shaken by the unexpected intensity of what she’d started, she climbed out of the car and walked briskly toward her door, digging in her bag for her keys. She knew she’d recall the taste and feel of him long into the night ahead.
Shane didn’t back out of the driveway until she had her front door open. He lifted a hand in a wave as he drove away. She stood in the open doorway until his red taillights had faded out of sight. Only then did she close the door with a sigh that sounded wistful even to her own ears.
* * *
“WHEN ARE YOU coming home, Shane? You don’t have any more meetings lined up for this weekend, do you?”
“No, there’s nothing scheduled,” Shane told his uncle during a Saturday afternoon phone conversation. Shane sat in his car outside The Perkery, having parked just as his phone rang. He’d already given his uncle a report on the seemingly successful sales pitch that morning, and he was getting impatient to head inside for coffee and the promised chocolate doughnut. “I’d just like to spend a little more time here. I’ll call you when I get back in town. I’ll probably stop by your place on my way home to see Dottie. And I’ll be at the office all day Monday.”
“Guess I can’t blame you for wanting a little time to yourself,” Raymond Scanlon conceded. “You haven’t had more than a handful of days off since you got out of the army, have you?”
Shane wasn’t sure he’d had even that many, not if he counted all the days he’d felt compelled to handle family issues in addition to his work obligations. Which was most days. “Everything’s okay there, right?”
“Oh, sure. We’ll get by until you’re back.”
Shane wished his uncle could sound more confident. “How’s Dottie?” he asked, using the nickname everyone, even her grandchildren, called his grandmother, Dorothy Scanlon.
“She’s feeling better today, I think. She’s been barking orders all morning. You know. The usual.”
“And Parker?”
His uncle’s sigh sounded clearly enough through their connection. “She’s still fretting about anything and everything, but I keep telling her it will all be okay. Still, she’ll feel more relaxed when you’re back. You’ve always had a knack for reassuring her.”
Raymond’s daughter, Parker, worked for the family business and was a part-time dance instructor with plans to open her own studio eventually. She and her musician husband, Adrian Mendel, were the parents of a six-month-old boy, Aubrey. They’d recently moved into their first house, which was in need of a few repairs. Shane acknowledged ruefully that he and his younger cousin shared the bad habit of taking on too much and then worrying about how to get it done.
Shane hadn’t yet told his family that he’d located Charlie’s daughter. When he got home, he’d have to figure out a way to let them know that the child was healthy and seemed happy, though he doubted it would be easy to convince them they had no place in the life she had now. Parker and Adrian were still openly disappointed that Brittany hadn’t given them the chance to raise Charlotte as their own. Had that happened, they’d lamented, she’d have grown up knowing her great-grandmother, her uncles, her biological family history.
As loving as Elle and Janet were toward the child, as much as she belonged with them now, the fact was that Charlotte had been born a Scanlon. That meant something to Shane’s family. And, he had to admit, to him. He accepted that Elle was Charlotte’s mother, but he couldn’t help thinking occasionally of what might have been, had Charlie lived or Brittany made different choices.
Putting those thoughts out of his mind for the moment, he said, “You know you can reach me at any time if you need me for anything.”
“Enjoy the break, Shane. Get some rest, walk on the beach, whatever you need to do to recharge. You deserve it after getting Wind Shadow Resorts for us.”
“Trevor hasn’t signed anything yet,” Shane cautioned his uncle. “But it does look promising.”
“I’m sure you got it. I have full faith in you. We all do.”
“Thanks, Raymond.”
It had been a compliment, Shane thought as he slid his phone back into his pocket. A sincere one. So why had it left him feeling more stressed than ever? He could only imagine how much more pressure the family would put on him if they knew he was in contact with the child they’d all grieved since Brittany had disappeared with her.
He couldn’t help wondering if it was really the family piling on that pressure—or if he was doing it to himself. The weight of the promises he’d made to his brother and father sometimes pressed more heavily on his shoulders than he suspected either of them would have intended. Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything within his power to honor those assurances.
He reached for the door handle and slid out of the car. It was a warmish day for the last week of October, so he left his leather jacket in the back seat. He was comfortable enough in his pullover and jeans as he walked into The Perkery.
He was probably playing with fire by showing up here again, but he kept being drawn back. And while he tried to convince himself he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his niece, he suspected he was equally unable to resist spending more time with Elle.
This would all be much easier if he wasn’t so damned attracted to her. Despite the complicating circumstances, he’d had a hard time keeping his eyes off her last night—not to mention his hands. Spending the evening at the park with her and her friends had been the most fun and relaxing couple of hours he’d managed during the past few months. There’d been a moment of connection when he’d parked in front of her house that had made his body tense with awareness of her, but he’d warned himself to remember why he couldn’t act on the attraction.
And then she’d kissed him.
He’d lain awake half aroused for quite a while last night, staring at the motel room ceiling and mentally listing all the reasons that kiss had been a big mistake. As much as he’d enjoyed it, as secretly pleased as he was that she’d wanted to kiss him, he shouldn’t have let it happen while she was still unaware of his connection to her daughter. Of his reason for spending time with her—or at least, the reason he’d initially looked her up.
Maybe it had been too long since he’d been involved with anyone. The only semi-serious relationship he’d had since getting out of the service had ended when the woman said he spent too much time working and taking care of his family, leaving no time for her. Fair accusation, he supposed. As he’d reminded himself before, he had more than enough on his plate for now; he certainly didn’t need to take on a single mom with her own business and an emotionally dependent widowed mother.
Not that there’d have been much chance of that, anyway. Not once Elle found out that he’d deceived her, if only by omission, from the first time they’d met. She’d made it clear last night that she’d always dreaded the possibility of one of Charlotte’s biological relatives making contact. He had no plans to interfere with the perfectly legal adoption, but she couldn’t be sure of that. She would have to wonder why he’d been hanging around.
At this point, he wasn’t sure he could answer her. He was beginning to question it himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHANE FOUND THE shop more crowded than he’d seen it before. Customers chatted around the little tables and stood in line at the counter where Elle, Janet and Amber bustled to take orders and serve everyone. At first he figured he must have misjudged the peak of Saturday rush hour. After a second glance, he realized that many of the customers wore matching bright pink shirts promoting a charity marathon that had apparently taken place that morning. Must be time for post-run carbs-and-caffeine, he decided.
He thought about turning around and heading back out to return later, but Elle spotted him then with a smile and a little wave of greeting. Giving in, he threaded through milling pink shirts toward the counter. Elle had a coffee mug and a plated chocolate-filled doughnut waiting for him by the time he got there.
“You didn’t change your mind about wanting one of these, did you?” she asked, looking remarkably at ease despite the chaos. In fact, she seemed to thrive on it.
“I’ve been looking forward to that doughnut since I woke up this morning.”
She laughed and nudged the plate closer. “Then I’m happy to be of service. Enjoy.”
Damn. Something about the sound of Elle’s laughter erased every cautious, coherent thought from his head. When he looked at her bright smile, he found himself hungrier for a taste of her lips than for chocolate and pastry. She glanced at his mouth, and he had no doubt that she, too, was thinking of the kiss they’d shared.
Maybe he really did need a vacation. But he had to keep in mind that this wasn’t one. His reasons for being in Shorty’s Landing were serious and pressing.