Come Home with Me Page 5

  She gazed up at him, biting her bottom lip in a way that had him wanting to kiss it.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked. When they’d gone for coffee, she’d said it wasn’t about him, but her. Seemed to him, that meant she didn’t trust him to understand that she was dealing with some issues, and to treat her right. What had he ever done to make her feel that way? Or was it, perhaps, men in general she mistrusted? “Look, I don’t know what guys have done to you in the past. Like”—he lowered his voice—“Ariana’s father. But I’m not them.”

  “I know you’re not,” she said promptly, sounding slightly annoyed. “In every way, you’re not them.”

  She almost made it sound like a bad thing, so maybe his hunch was wrong. “But you don’t trust me,” he said, needing to know what was going on here.

  “I do.” She dragged the two small words out slowly. “As a person, I mean. But like I said, I’m kind of messed up right now and I’m not into dating. And I can see, well, not to be egotistical or anything, but I can see you’re attracted to me.” She squeezed her eyes shut and squinted up her face. “Aagh. That sounds terrible. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s true, I find you attractive. But Miranda, if you don’t want to date, I get it. We could just be friends. I wouldn’t push you.” Craving a woman’s caresses—oh hell, be honest, craving down and dirty sex—was the stuff of fantasies. Dating, though . . . Now that he really thought about it, it was big, for him as well as for her. “I’m honestly not sure I’m ready for dating myself. Candace and I—well, she was my only girlfriend. Ever.”

  “Ever?” Her eyes widened. “You’ve only ever . . . uh, dated, one woman?”

  He figured what she was really asking was if he’d slept only with Candace. It didn’t damage his male pride one single bit to say, “Yes. One.” Still, he figured an explanation wouldn’t hurt. “I loved her. As kids, she was my best friend, and her friendship kept me going through some rough times. Adolescence hit and we became boyfriend-girlfriend. We fell in love. I guess more accurately, we realized we’d loved one another all along, but when all the hormones kicked in the love became non-platonic.”

  Miranda was gazing at him as if he were an alien life form, but when she spoke he heard a trace of envy. “That sounds amazing. Kindred spirits, right?”

  He hadn’t heard the term before. “Different in some ways but yeah, when it came to the important stuff—what we valued, what we wanted out of life—I guess we were.”

  “But still, you never got curious? What it’d be like with someone else? You were never attracted to anyone else?”

  Remembering the inexplicable appeal of the girl with her punky hair and piercings, he swallowed. “Never seriously attracted or curious. I was smart enough to know the value of what Candace and I had together.” If his wife were alive, he’d probably still find the new Miranda attractive, but no way would he consider doing anything about it.

  Her eyes clouded. “And lucky enough that she realized it, too.”

  Maybe his hunch hadn’t been so wrong. “You fell for a guy you thought was a kindred spirit, but he didn’t feel the same way?” Ariana’s father?

  She snorted. “A guy? It’s happened more than once. I have the worst luck. Or, as Aaron says, taste or judgment. I’m just like my—” She broke off. “Never mind. It’s a long story.”

  “A story I’d like to hear.”

  The shop bell jangled and Jillian Summers and her son, Cole, entered the store. Luke wondered, as he and Miranda both said hi to them, if Miranda was thinking “saved by the bell.”

  Jillian, a seaplane pilot, flew for Miranda’s brother’s Blue Moon Air. She and Cole, who was eight or so, had a Dalmatian-Labrador cross called Freckles, a dog they’d rescued from the shelter three years ago.

  Miranda asked how the wedding plans were going, and Luke remembered hearing that Jillian was engaged to Cole’s father, a man who’d reappeared in their lives at Christmas.

  Luke could have left, probably should have, but he wasn’t going to let Miranda blow him off again so he browsed while Jillian filled Miranda in on all the details that women found so interesting. Cole had disappeared among the shelves, and finally Jillian went to join him, saying that they’d poke around for a bit.

  Luke rejoined Miranda and said quietly, “Sundaes on Sunday. Three little kids, lots of mess, sugar highs, and I promise there’ll be chocolate. Not a date. Maybe the beginning of a friendship. You can handle that. Can’t you?” Deliberately, he made it sound like a challenge.

  The old Miranda wasn’t the type to walk away from a dare.

  The new one studied him for a long time, and he wasn’t sure whether she was trying to read his mind or to figure out her own feelings. It didn’t matter because in the end, she spoke one word. It wasn’t as enthusiastic a response as he’d hoped for, but he’d take it.

  “Fine,” she said.

  Chapter Four

  As Miranda drove to the address Luke had given her, on Tsehum Drive which wound along the west side of Blue Moon Harbor, she thought how different everything was from a year ago. Though she’d had a driver’s license when she lived in Vancouver, she’d used it only a few times a year—mostly to drive friends and their cars home when they’d had too much to drink. In the city, transit passes were her friend. She and Ariana traveled everywhere on the bus or SkyTrain: to parks, beaches, street fairs, and bargain shops. Miranda would hold her daughter as they watched city scenery go by outside the window, or read while Ariana snoozed.

  Driving on Destiny, she’d initially found the scenery—agricultural fields with crops, sheep, cows, horses, even llamas; patches of forest; a few scattered farmhouses—boring after the cityscapes. It was growing on her, though, or maybe lulling her into an “island time” languidness. Here, the only excitement was when she had to brake suddenly for a squirrel, rabbit, or deer with “suicide by car” tendencies.

  This Sunday afternoon, no animals had a death wish, so it was an uneventful twenty-minute drive from SkySong in her old Toyota—the one she’d had no choice but to let Aaron buy for her since public transit here sucked.

  The sky was a pale, wintry blue, with a bank of gray clouds moving slowly in from the south. That was one thing this place had in common with Vancouver: it rained a lot. Not that it mattered today, as they’d be inside at a kitchen table.

  She wondered what Luke’s house was like, and whether it was the one he’d shared with Candace. Had he hung on to that home and the memories it contained, or had that proved to be too painful? She wouldn’t have bet either way, but did guess that the house would be small, cozy, and cluttered with adult and kid stuff of the male variety.

  When she pulled up in front of the address she’d tapped into her phone, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry, because clearly, she’d made a mistake.

  “I must’ve input it wrong,” she said to her daughter, who was strapped into her car seat in the back. “Luke can’t live here. Even if he looks after all the bulls, goats, and newts on the island, he can’t possibly make that much money.”

  “Luke!” Ariana said brightly. The man had made an impression on her daughter.

  The house was what Miranda thought of as West Coast modern. The cedar walls and shake roof blended in with the surroundings, but this was no rustic cottage like the one her brother had built. This spectacular home had unusual angles, huge windows, and several skylights. That style did not come cheaply. Nor did the stretch of waterfront property it sat on.

  “This is Tsehum Drive,” she said. “Maybe there’s a Tsehum Road or Street. I could look it up. Or I could call him. Or you and I could go home and play fairy castles.” Which would be the safer choice, and since she’d worked late last night catching up on her online courses, she needn’t feel guilty about spending the afternoon playing with her daughter. But accepting an invitation—though she still wasn’t sure why she had—and failing to show up was rude.

  “Luke?” her daughter said doubtfully,
and then babbled something Miranda didn’t understand.

  The front door of the eye-catching house opened and two dogs bounded out, a big golden-colored one and a small mop of gray and white fur. The larger dog, she noticed as the pair ran toward the car, was missing a hind leg, but its tail wagged vigorously, as did the short, fluffy tail of the mop-dog.

  She was about to reassure her daughter that the dogs looked friendly, when Ariana squealed in delight, “Doggies!”

  “Sit!” a male voice yelled, and both dogs promptly planted their butts.

  Miranda took a long breath and looked away from the dogs toward the door of the house. The moment she’d seen the three-legged dog, she had figured she’d come to the right place. Sure enough, Luke stood in the doorway. Somehow, his faded jeans and gray T-shirt, unprepossessing as they were, matched the house perfectly. Yes, this was his home, even though she had to wonder how he could afford it.

  “There he is,” she said. “There’s Luke.”

  “Luke! And doggies!”

  He came down the steps as Miranda opened the car door and slid out. By the time she’d opened the back door and freed Ariana from her car seat, he was standing beside her. “Want me to take her?” he asked. “I’m guessing you have a bag or two of stuff.”

  Ariana reached out to him, again saying his name.

  No, this didn’t feel like a date, Miranda thought as she carefully passed her precious daughter into his waiting arms. Dating meant dancing at a club, listening to music, going to a movie, having sex. Two adults; no children. Since her daughter’s birth, she hadn’t dated much. Cash was scarce and better spent on nourishing food and birthday books than on babysitters. In the past three years, she’d only fallen for one guy—and that was her ill-fated relationship with Chef Emile at a restaurant where she’d waitressed. She’d lost not only the man but also a job that paid good tips. That was over a year ago, and since then she’d only had a few casual dates.

  Aaron didn’t give her enough credit for having some common sense.

  With her purse on one shoulder, a tote bag of supplies over the other, and a baking dish of apple crisp in her hands, she followed Luke to his front door, the two dogs trotting behind.

  In the entranceway, still holding Ariana, Luke toe-heeled off the moccasins he wore, leaving him barefooted on a glossy floor of reddish-brown hardwood just a couple of shades lighter than his hair.

  “Bare feet in February?” she commented as she put the dessert dish and her purse on a side table, and let the tote slide to the floor. “You must pay a fortune in heating costs.” In cold weather, she always kept the heat on low and bundled herself and Ariana in multiple layers.

  “Nope. This house was designed to be energy-efficient.”

  She bent to untie the red Converse she’d bought from a thrift store a couple years ago. This close to Luke’s feet, she appreciated how masculine and well shaped they were. Rising, sock-footed now, she cast an eye over the rest of him, confirming what she’d noticed before: the man truly was built. Better built, in fact, than a lot of the guys she’d dated. She tended toward edgy, creative types, lean in build, not healthy-looking men like Luke.

  Built he might be, but he was too wholesome for her taste.

  A doggy tail brushed her jean-clad legs. Distracted from her perusal of her host, she leaned down again and stretched out a hand to the golden dog. “Hey there.” As a child, she’d wished for a pet but it was never a serious wish. First came things like food, clothes, school supplies, and electricity that didn’t keep getting shut off.

  “Doggies!” Ariana demanded, windmilling her arms and legs as she struggled to get free.

  “Can I put her down?” Luke asked. “Will she be okay with them?”

  “As long as they’re not too enthusiastic. She’s used to Chester, Lionel’s dog.” When she and Ariana had lived in the spare room at Aaron’s cottage, they’d gotten to know Chester. A total sweetheart, the aging dog belonged to Aaron’s neighbor and best friend.

  Carefully Luke lowered Ariana to the floor, but held on to her hand. Miranda would have done the same thing, offering her daughter reassurance and security while allowing her the freedom and space to explore. Without even having met his kids, she knew he was a good parent.

  “Hi, doggy.” Ariana reached her free hand toward the golden one.

  “That’s Honey,” Luke said as the dog pressed its nose into her palm, tail beating a happy rhythm. “She’s a girl. The small one is Pigpen, and he’s a boy.”

  “Pig pen?” her daughter said doubtfully.

  “He’s named after a cartoon character.”

  Peanuts, Miranda realized, watching the dogs closely, reassured that they weren’t the least bit aggressive.

  “Honey no leg,” Ariana announced, stroking the dog’s head.

  “That’s right,” Luke agreed. “She had an accident and lost one.”

  While Ariana got down on the floor to stroke the fluffy, wriggling Pigpen, Luke stepped slightly away from her and murmured to Miranda, “A hit-and-run. Honey was an off-island dog, not chipped or tagged, and the owners never showed up to claim her.”

  “And Pigpen?” she asked.

  “He’s old and so are his owners. Health issues forced them to move in with their son, whose wife is allergic. It’d be hard to find a home for a dog like Pigpen, so the boys and I took him in. His owners can still drive, so they come visit him. Their dearest wish is that they’ll die before Pigpen, but I don’t think it’ll work out that way.”

  Watching her daughter giggle as the little mop-dog licked her face, Miranda whispered, “You took in a dog that’ll die soon? Won’t that be traumatic for your boys?”

  “A little, but it’s a life lesson. Every living creature dies one day.” He swallowed. “Sometimes before their time.”

  She bit her lip, knowing he was thinking of his wife.

  He went on. “Pigpen’s lived a long, happy life and he’s got another year or two to go. He’ll enjoy the boys and Honey, and they’ll enjoy him. I’ll make sure that when the time comes, he goes easily. Painlessly.”

  “I guess.” Though she hated to think of a child’s grief, she kind of saw Luke’s point. Loss was a part of life. Maybe it was better to come to terms with that early on. And of course his kids had already suffered one of the hugest losses possible. They’d grown up without a mother, and never even had a chance to know her and experience her love.

  Was that better or worse than growing up with a mom who sold her body to feed her cocaine addiction?

  Choosing to change the subject, she said, “Where are your kids? For a couple of four-year-old boys, they’re being awfully quiet.”

  “They’re in the yard, playing in the fort.”

  “Fort?”

  “I’m not great with a hammer and nails, but I managed to throw something together. We can make it fancier as they get older and are able to help out.”

  Yeah, he was a good parent. She loved the expression on his face when he talked about his sons. There’d been moments when her mom had been functional enough to look at Miranda and Aaron with interest and affection, but those moments had been rare and never lasted.

  She shoved away the memories, and commented, “You didn’t shave this morning. Is that a Sunday thing?” A light scruff of brown whiskers covered his jaw and her fingers itched to reach out and feel that intriguing mix of softness and bristle. With a start, she realized that it must’ve been ten or eleven months since she’d stroked a man’s face.

  “Yup.” His lips curved. “If I’d shaved, it might’ve given the wrong message. Like I thought this was a date or something.”

  She laughed, thinking that she felt comfortable with this man. No, it wasn’t a date. When she dated, she always felt slightly on edge, like with an adrenaline buzz: lust, anticipation, uncertainty, excitement. Something way more thrilling than the desire to feel beard stubble under her fingertips.

  “Hey, Ariana,” Luke said, raising his voice. “How about you and y
our mom come into the kitchen. I’ll call my boys. Then we’ll see if we can find some ice cream in the freezer.”

  Ariana looked up from her doggy friend. “Ice cream? I like ice cream.”

  Miranda reached for her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Come on, sweetie.” She hooked her purse over her shoulder.

  Luke hefted the tote and gestured toward the baking dish. “What’s this?”

  “Apple crisp to put in your fridge.” She didn’t believe in accepting hospitality without reciprocating.

  “Thanks. What a treat.” He lifted the dish and started down the wide hallway.

  Still holding her daughter’s hand, Miranda followed, glancing into the rooms they passed. The architectural design was as spectacular as the outside of the house, but the furniture was comfortable, some of it a little beat-up, and scattered toys and books created a homey ambience. She’d been dead wrong about the type of home Luke lived in, but right about the coziness and clutter.

  She also noted a few photographs of Candace, Candace and Luke, Candace with other people. Luke’s wife had always been gorgeous and distinctive with that fiery hair, slightly exotic features, and light gray eyes accentuated by skillfully applied makeup. Clearly, Luke wasn’t avoiding memories of his wife, which made Miranda guess that this probably was the home they’d lived in together.

  When she stepped through the door into the kitchen, she gasped. It was huge, efficiently laid out, and her experience working in restaurants told her that the appliances were commercial grade. But, lest she be completely intimidated, there were homey touches here, too: kids’ brightly colored artwork stuck on the walls, photos and lists tacked to the fridge, and a messy stack of papers and envelopes taking up part of the counter. Large windows on two sides provided lots of natural light, and she glimpsed a view of ocean and sky. The table was right by the window, with five chairs around it. One had a booster cushion.

  Luke opened the outside door, hollered, “Boys! Ice cream!” and then came back in, leaving the door open a crack. A few moments later, what sounded like a herd of elephants thundered across a wooden porch or deck, the door crashed open, and two children in jeans and fleece jackets raced inside.