Wild Iris Ridge. RaeAnne Thayne
reality, they were two people who disliked each other, linked only by the woman they had both loved and by the two children who rode ahead of them.
He needed to keep reminding himself of that and not allow himself to be seduced by a lovely evening, an even lovelier woman and the quiet enjoyment of a little adult companionship, for a change.
* * *
A WEEK AGO, if somebody had told her she would be spending a beautiful April evening sitting at a park in Hope’s Crossing on a bench next to Brendan Caine, she would have laughed out loud at such a preposterous notion.
Life had the strangest way of throwing curveballs at a woman when she least expected it.
A week ago, she had been confident she had the world figured out—or at least her place in it. Now everything had changed, and she was left trying to find her way again.
Once again, she questioned her decision to return to Hope’s Crossing. It had seemed so right at the time, coming back to this place where she had always found peace and comfort with Annabelle.
But Annabelle was gone and nothing would be the same.
Maybe she should have stayed in Seattle. She had a condo there she had paid cash for a few years earlier. She could have lived there basically rent free while she sent out feelers for other jobs. With her contacts in the industry, it probably wouldn’t have taken her long to find something new. Being fired from her previous job didn’t exactly look that great on her résumé but maybe her track record before the disastrous software launch would speak for itself.
Instead of following logic and sense, she had gone with her gut, for once, and had come back to the only place that had ever felt close to home.
Now, sitting next to Brendan Caine, she wondered again if it had been a huge mistake. He didn’t want her here, that much was obvious—at the park or in Hope’s Crossing. She hadn’t missed his discomfort, just walking through town with her.
Too late to second-guess herself now. She was here now and just needed to make the best of things—and maybe that started with finding common ground with Brendan.
“I had a nice chat with your sister yesterday morning at the café,” she said.
“Did you?”
“She looked fantastic. And she told me she’s getting married to Spence Gregory. That must have been quite a shock for you and your brothers.”
He shrugged. “They seem happy together. Spence was always a good guy. He just lost his way for a while.”
Apparently, there was a lot of that going around.
“And I understand Dylan’s tying the knot, too, with Genevieve Beaumont,” she said. “Shock number two.”
“Yeah. That one’s a little harder to take in, but somehow they work together.”
“How is her family taking it?”
“You mean their little princess hooking up with a disfigured war veteran?” he asked, his voice cold.
“Your words. Not mine,” she answered in the same tone.
He studied her for a moment and some of the protective harshness seemed to ease in his handsome features. “Sorry. It’s a touchy subject. The mayor and Mrs. Beaumont weren’t very thrilled at first, especially since Dylan was unemployed for a while there. And of course, they didn’t hesitate to let their objections be known far and wide throughout the land.”
“I remember the Beaumonts. That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Gen stood up to them, which was a surprise. The way I hear it, she told them if they put her in a position to make her choose between her family or Dylan, she would choose him, every time.”
Lucy decided she was liking Genevieve Beaumont more and more. “How romantic.”
“Or something,” he murmured.
“You don’t think so?”
“It’s easy to make grand sweeping statements like that. Not so easy to live with the consequences of them.”
“But Genevieve must have stuck by her guns. They’re getting married, right?”
“Dylan had a long, tough talk with Gen’s parents. When he’s not being all gruff and cranky, he can be quite a charmer, apparently. I think he must get it from Pop.”
“Too bad that trait wasn’t handed down universally to all the Caine brothers.”
He snorted, a small, amused smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “Isn’t it, though?”
She felt inordinately pleased that she had brought a smile to his face, even such a tiny one.
“He’s also started a partnership with a fairly new contractor in town, Sam Delgado. From what I understand, they have more business than they know what to do with right now. And he’s still a regular volunteer at A Warrior’s Hope, the recreational therapy program Spence and Charlotte started for wounded veterans. A war hero, a volunteer, a thriving businessman. How could Laura and William possibly object to such a paragon for a son-in-law?”
“Not to mention he’s the man their daughter loves.”
“There is that.”
He started to say something else but Carter called out from the swings in an imperious tone.
“Daddy! Push me.”
Brendan sighed. “How did my children both get to be such bossy little things?”
She rose from the bench. “I’ve got this. Relax.”
“No. It’s fine.”
“I’d like to. Would it kill you to let me help with the kids for five seconds?”
So much for any amicable accords. He was back to glowering at her—but at least he sat back down on the bench and made a gesture for her to go ahead.
She moved behind Carter and gave him a hard, swift push that had him giggling in delight.
“Higher!” the little daredevil exclaimed. This one was going to give his father all kinds of trouble during his reckless teenage years, she expected.
“Sure thing. Except I’m going to blame you if my arms fall off.”
He giggled harder and swung his legs to help gain momentum.
“Faith says you’re staying for a month. Is that true?”
“That’s the plan, kiddo.”
“Yay! Then you can come to my birthday party. It’s next month. I’m going to be six.”
“Do you know,” she said, “I believe I heard a rumor somewhere that most five-year-old boys turn six on their next birthdays.”
He giggled. “Will you come?”
“I’ll have to see.”
She didn’t add that a lot could happen between now and next month. Given the tangled history between her and Brendan, she wasn’t entirely sure she would be welcome at his son’s birthday party in a month.
* * *
TWO EVENINGS LATER, Lucy juggled an umbrella in one hand, a bag from her favorite toy store in Seattle in the other and a box in both arms as she pressed Brendan’s doorbell with her elbow.
She had always loved his house. It was comfortable and homey, built of a warm, rust-colored brick in the Craftsman style, with a wide front porch and two dormer windows. Situated on a higher plot in town, it had lovely views down the hill into downtown Hope’s Crossing.
Jess’s favorite rocking chair had a few old cobwebs underneath it, as if nobody used it much anymore.
She didn’t have time to feel more than a sharp, familiar pang of loss