No Place Like Home, page 14
“We’re emptying out that house. Fiona is enjoying getting rid of the stuff. I think it’s therapy for her.”
“Dumping the memories with the papers?” he said lightly.
“Something like that.” Bree cleared her throat. “Anyway, Charlie told me he ran with you this afternoon. I know he followed you. Thanks for…for being kind to him.”
“He was like a puppy, wagging his tail. I couldn’t bear to kick him.” Parker picked up her hand, rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “Is he doing okay? Not too sore?”
“He’s fine. Based on the way he talked about you at dinner, you made quite an impression.”
“He’s a pretty good runner. He’ll be a standout in cross-country this fall.” He dropped her hand, draped his arm across the back of the couch and started playing with her hair. When his fingers touched her scalp, she shivered.
“Why did you really come over here, Bree? You could have thanked me at work tomorrow.”
His voice was a caress that reverberated deep inside her. She jumped up. “I told Charlie about Ted this evening,” she said, staring at a photo of an orchid without seeing it. “He was upset.” I hate you.
“Did you expect him not to be?” Parker came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “You dropped a bomb on him. It had to knock him completely off balance.”
“I wasn’t going to tell him,” she said in a low voice. “About Ted. I didn’t want him to know. What kind of woman doesn’t tell her child about his father?”
“A woman who’s been hurt? A woman who’s afraid she’s going to be hurt again?” He stroked his palms up and down her arms. “I can think of a lot of reasons.”
She turned to face him and he dropped his arms. “I’m not afraid of Ted. And he can’t hurt me. I got over him a long time ago.” She wanted Parker’s hands on her again, wanted to feel that connection to him, so she moved away.
“Why are you beating yourself up, Bree? You can’t undo the past.”
“Charlie was trying not to cry,” she said, shutting her eyes against the memory. “He thought his father didn’t want to have anything to do with him.”
“And now he knows better,” Parker said. “Stop punishing yourself. We all make bad choices when we’re young. We learn from them.”
Parker pulled her into his arms and she let herself burrow into him. Just for a moment. “Ted said I was exactly like my father,” she whispered. “Vindictive and unforgiving.”
“I’m guessing Cross needs a lot of forgiving,” he murmured into her hair. “So maybe you should call it even.”
Parker’s heart beat against her ear, strong and steady, and she put her hand on his chest. Having someone to lean on was different. Nice.
Scary. Especially when that someone was a man with no roots and no ties.
Somehow she found the strength to push herself away from him. “Sorry, Parker. I didn’t mean to go all girlie on you.”
He drew one finger down her neck to her chest. “You can go girlie on me anytime you like.” He bumped her hip, and she felt his erection. “I like girlie.”
“I can tell,” she said dryly.
He bumped her hip again. “What can I say? It’s my default setting when you’re around.”
Default? The guy was clearly a scientist. “That’s so romantic, Parker. I’ve never been a default before,” she said.
“Hey, I’m trying to be respectful here. Give me some credit.”
“Who would have thought I’d be smiling at the end of this day?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips.
“Please tell me you don’t want respectful tonight.” He nibbled at her lower lip, pulling it gently into his mouth.
She didn’t, she realized. She wanted heat and passion and mindless need.
She wanted Parker. “Respect is so overrated,” she said, leaning into him and nipping at his neck. “Don’t you think?”
“I’m not thinking anything,” he said, sweeping his hands down her body and cupping her rear end.
He backed her up until she was against the wall, his mouth against hers. Her desire was sharp and all-consuming.
This was why she’d come to him. She’d needed comfort. But she also needed to feel alive. Needed to feel she was more than a mother who’d failed her child.
She wanted to forget everything tonight.
Everything except Parker.
“You’ve been driving me crazy, Bree,” he muttered, running his hands up her sides, framing her face with his palms. “Every time I walk into my office, I picture you there. On my desk. And I want you.” He rocked against her, and she arched into him. “Every time I see you in one of those ugly blouses, I remember what you look like without it.”
He kissed her through the cotton of her T-shirt, the heat of his mouth making her nipple harden. She couldn’t stop the moan that rose from deep inside her.
He shoved the shirt up and cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her aching nipples through the thin, lacy bra, and she moaned again. Afraid he would stop touching her, she put her hands on his and held them in place.
“I want to feel your hands on me, too,” he whispered. “Touch me, Bree. Please.”
She reached beneath his T-shirt, letting the hair on his chest flow through her fingers as she learned the contours of his muscles. He shuddered when she found the hard nubs of his male nipples, and she shoved his shirt up and licked one. He tasted salty and delicious.
He squeezed her breasts gently, then fumbled for the clasp of her bra. Seconds later, he’d pulled both T-shirt and bra off and tossed them aside. Mimicking her, he licked one of her nipples.
“Anything you can do, I can do better?” she gasped. “Is that the game?”
He smiled and moved up to her mouth. “I like games.”
He nibbled at her lip, then soothed it with his tongue. His erection strained against her, and even through their shorts she felt his heat.
Their tongues tangled as she slid her hand into the waistband of his running shorts and closed her fingers around him. He jumped in her hand and his mouth on hers became frantic. He fumbled with the button on her shorts, then shoved them down her legs. His hand swept over her hip, stopping when he touched bare skin and a band of elastic. “A thong,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”
He traced the strap down the cleft of her hips and she arched into him once more. When he stroked her gently, she wrapped her leg around him, desperate to get closer.
“Bedroom,” he managed to say. “Condoms.”
He took her hand and led her down the short hall to a darkened room. As she stepped inside, she heard her cell phone buzz.
She wanted to ignore it. She wanted to leap onto the bed with Parker and put his condoms to good use. As she hesitated, he heard it, too.
They stood frozen for a moment, then he walked back to the living room and picked up her purse. “It could be Charlie,” he said.
Bree couldn’t look at Parker as she fumbled in her bag. The phone was still buzzing when she glanced at the screen. Charlie.
“Hi,” she said, clearing her throat. Trying to sound normal. “What’s up?”
“Where did you go?” he demanded. “You said I could ask you anything, and then you disappeared.”
“It was late, honey. I thought you were asleep.”
“Where are you? And don’t call me honey!” he yelled.
“I’m at a friend’s house.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll be home in a little while. All right?”
“Okay.” He hung up.
She stood for a moment, still achingly aroused, then snapped the phone closed. “Kiddus interruptus. Charlie has questions.” She stepped forward and rested her forehead against Parker’s. “I’m so sorry.”
Taking her in his arms, he stroked his hand down her spine. “Darn it,” he said. “Those condoms were getting real excited about being used.”
“I hate to disappoint them,” she said, holding on to him.
“It’ll be tough, but they can wait.” He kissed her again, then went to pick her clothes up from the floor.
She tugged them on quickly, a little embarrassed about being naked when he was still completely dressed. She kissed him again regretfully.
“Good night, Parker.”
“Wait, Bree. I’m glad you came over,” he said.
“Sorry it ended like this.”
“I guess that goes along with having kids.”
She suspected he hadn’t dated many women with children. “Guess so. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
She slipped out of the house before he could say anything else and tempt her to stay.
Remember his house, she told herself as she backed her car out of his driveway. Temporary house, temporary life. No roots…or ties.
IT WAS BUSIER THAN USUAL at The Lake House that Friday evening. Bree stood at the bar, waiting for an order, and scanned the crowded room.
This was midterm week at the college; Charlie had had his exam today. Maybe all the kids were in here celebrating.
She didn’t care why it was busy. She touched the thick roll of bills in her pocket. Busy was good. She’d never minded working hard.
The door opened and another couple walked in. They headed for Sandy’s station as Jerry put two salty dogs and a martini on Bree’s tray. “Those look great, Jerry. Just like downtown.”
“Get them delivered and bring me back another order,” he said, without looking up from the next drink he was mixing.
“I love you, too, Jer,” she said with a grin as she headed toward the booth in the corner.
She was turning away from a group of college kids who wanted a pitcher of Leinenkugel when Sandy came up to her. “One of the tables in my section asked for you,” she said. “That one against the wall. The woman in the sleeveless print dress and the man in the black shirt.”
Bree’s stomach heaved as she spotted the couple. Ted Cross and a woman. His wife? She had a pleasant face and dishwater-blond hair cut short. She looked…nice. Ordinary. Not the kind of person Bree would expect to be with Ted.
She had imagined Ted’s wife as someone eye-catching and glamorous. Drop-dead gorgeous. Not a woman who could be her next-door neighbor.
“Thanks, Sandy,” she struggled to say. “I’ll get them. Do you want to take the next table in my section?”
“No, thanks,” the other waitress said with a grimace. “I’m having trouble keeping up with the ones I have.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
She started walking toward the two. Bree didn’t have time to prepare herself to face them. Or linger. Thank goodness the bar was so busy.
“Hi, Ted,” she said, forcing a cheerful smile. “What can I get you folks?”
“Bree, this is my wife, Melody.”
Bree shook the woman’s cold, damp hand, feeling a jolt of sympathy for her. It couldn’t be easy to meet your husband’s ex-lover, who was also the mother of his child. “Hello, Melody.”
“It’s good to meet you,” she said, hanging on to Bree’s hand. She looked as if she wanted to say more.
“Hey, can we get some service over here?” a large, bearded man at the next table bellowed.
Bree extricated her hand. “The natives are thirsty,” she said. “Do you know what you want?”
After they’d each ordered a glass of wine, Bree stopped by the next table, carefully staying out of reach of the two patrons. The shorter man, the one who hadn’t yelled, looked embarrassed. “I’ll tell your waitress you’re ready to order,” she said.
“About damn time,” the other guy said, his voice carrying over the din in the bar. He narrowed his eyes. “I know you.”
“You must come in on weekends, then,” she said. The man had had too much to drink. Sandy didn’t do well with drunks, but Bree had had plenty of experience with them. “How about I bring you a soda?” she said. “On the house.”
“I don’t want a frigging soda.” He shoved the empty pitcher at her. “Fill this up again.”
“I don’t think so, sir,” she said with a smile. “You’ve had enough beer.”
He staggered to his feet with a roar of anger. Bree hooked her foot around his leg and pulled it out from beneath him, and he fell heavily back into his chair. “You don’t want me to get Jerry,” she said quietly, so only the two could hear her. “Jerry eats little guys like you for breakfast. How about you clear your tab and sleep it off somewhere?”
“That would be fine,” the other man said hastily, pulling out his wallet. “How much do we owe you?”
“I’ll get your check.”
Five minutes later she was back with their change, and Ted and Melody’s wine. She watched as the two men departed, the larger one unsteady on his feet. At least they’d left a nice tip for Sandy.
“Sorry about the drama,” she said as she set the two glasses of red wine on Ted’s table.
“You handled that guy really well, Bree.” He paused and leaned forward. “Like a pro.”
She froze. He couldn’t possibly know. “One of those life skills,” she said. “Did you want to order food tonight?”
“Give us more time,” Melody said.
By the time they had ordered their meal and eaten it, the bar was beginning to settle down. A lot of college kids had left, probably to go to parties. When Bree picked up the Crosses’ empty plates, Melody put her hand on her arm.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she said. As if that was a signal, Ted stood and headed in the direction of the restrooms.
“About what?” Bree asked warily.
“About Ted.” Melody’s gaze followed her husband until he disappeared around a corner. “He’s a good man, Bree. He told me about Charlie. About what happened. He genuinely regrets what he did, and I can assure you he’s changed in the past twelve years. He’s not the same careless, self-centered kid he was back then.”
“No? Then why did he demand to meet Charlie without even considering how it would affect my son? That seems pretty self-centered to me.”
The woman blushed. “Ted was so excited when he found out about Charlie. So eager to meet him. He probably didn’t handle it well.”
“I’ve told Charlie about Ted. I’m leaving it up to him if he wants to meet Ted or not.” Charlie’s questions on the night he’d interrupted her and Parker had been about his dad—what he did for a living, if he looked like Charlie, if he had any other kids. She’d braced herself to hear how he wanted to proceed, but Charlie hadn’t said anything yet. He hadn’t said anything to her, period.
“Thank you.” Tears filled Melody’s eyes. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to Ted.”
“He told me you can’t have children,” Bree said. “I’m sorry.” She wanted to tell the woman she couldn’t have Charlie. That she would never be Charlie’s mother. But Bree couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She couldn’t be that cruel.
“Ted knew we would never have biological children when we got married,” Melody said. “We’re going to adopt.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Knowing you can’t have children makes you think about what it means to be a family. Ted and I have talked a lot about kids. Believe me, Bree, it’s not just vanity or pride that makes him want to know Charlie. Ted wants to be a father to his son.”
“I’ll let Ted know when Charlie makes a decision,” Bree answered.
“Thank you.” Melody smiled over her shoulder. “Here’s Ted.”
“I’ll get your check,” Bree said. Ted hadn’t said anything else to make her think he knew about her past. It had probably been her imagination. But she didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary around him.
As she was collecting their money, the door opened. Whoever walked in didn’t move past the door, however. She felt someone staring at her, so she glanced over her shoulder. Parker stood there, watching her. Her heart sped up, then she realized he was also watching Ted.
Bree swept Ted’s money off the table and walked toward Parker. Blocking him. “What are you doing here?” she said in a low voice.
“I came to see you and have a beer.” He stared past her at Ted. “I’m glad I got here when I did.”
“Don’t you dare,” she said, putting a hand on his chest as he tried to move around her. “Don’t make a scene, Parker.”
“What does he want?”
“Just to talk. Leave it alone.”
“I’d like to talk to him, too.”
She stepped in front of him. “I can see the headline in the Spruce Lake Gazette now. College Professors Get into Brawl at Local Bar. Throw Out Their Backs Trying to Land a Punch.” She tried to herd him away from Ted. “Go sit down, Parker. If you behave yourself, I’ll tell you why they’re here.”
He finally smiled. “All right, smart-ass. I’ll go appease my male pride with a Guinness.”
“I’ll get it.” She gave him a tiny shove. “And you’re sitting on the other side of the room.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND waiting for you, Bree?” Jerry’s eyes slid from her to Parker, who was the only customer left.
“He’s a friend,” she said, slamming down the ketchup bottle she was cleaning. “All right?”
“Whoa!” the bartender raised his hands. “You’re Ms. Sensitive tonight.”
She sprayed cleaning solution on the table and rubbed it harder than necessary. She wasn’t sure what her relationship with Parker was.
He wanted sex.
She did, too. She was a grown-up. She could have a casual relationship with a man. Casual. Right.
Tossing the cleaning supplies into the box beneath the bar, she nodded to Jerry and Sandy. “See you next Friday.”
“Thanks again for handling that drunk for me,” Sandy called. “You sure you don’t want part of the tip?”
“It’s all yours,” Bree answered with a wave. “You did the work. I just showed him out.”
Parker met her at the door and held it open for her. As she squeezed past him, he murmured, “You’ve been busy tonight.” His eyes glittered in the darkness, and she could practically smell the testosterone swirling around him.
