Lone Star Valentine (McCabe Multiples) by CATHY GILLEN THACKER Page A

embarrassed by how vague and uncertain she sounded. “Luckily, I’ve got time to figure it out,” Lily said. “And a job to do in the meantime.”
    Which, given all she had to do before the advent of the chili cook-off and festival the following weekend, would keep her so busy she wouldn’t have the time or the energy to get any more involved with Gannon.
    And that, she knew, given how different they still were, could only be a good thing.
    She had rushed into a relationship once, with Lucas’s biological father, and that had turned out to be a huge mistake. She wasn’t going to let herself do it again.
    * * *
    “I S THAT EVERYTHING ?” Gannon asked, an hour and a half later after carrying their overnight bags inside for her. Lily had been cordial but pensive for the last part of the drive. He sensed she had a lot on her mind and might need to unburden herself again—out of earshot of her little boy.
    Lily watched her son, who was invigorated after his long nap in the car, make a run for his building blocks and collection of toy ranch animals. “I think so,” she replied, visually checking over their belongings, including Lucas’s treasured Blue Blankie and stuffed horse, both of which were under his arm.
    Not eager to leave, especially when she still seemed to be a little out of sorts, Gannon asked casually, “Any thoughts about what you’re going to do for linner?”
    As hoped, his teasing tone coaxed a smile from her.
“Linner?”
    He regarded her with mock solemnity. “Lunch and dinner. Sort of like brunch.”
    They never had stopped to get anything to eat en route for fear of waking her son. He was starved, and he figured she and Lucas had to be hungry, too.
    She waved desultorily. “We’ll probably just have a snack and I’ll make an early dinner.”
    Or, in other words, she was not asking him to stay.
    Lily drew a deep breath. She took him by the wrist and led him deeper into the kitchen, out of earshot of her son. Looking deep into his eyes, she said quietly, “I know that the past twenty-four hours have been really intense. And that I’ve leaned on you in an unconscionable way.”
    Sensing a breakup speech coming on, not unlike the We Can’t Do This Now—Or Ever! talk she had given him during their first year of law school, Gannon shot back, “Is that what you call what happened between us last night?” He kept his voice mild with effort. “Unconscionable?”
    Bright spots of color appeared in her cheeks. She lowered her glance self-consciously, whispering, “I was not myself. You know that.”
    If he truly thought that, he would have felt like the worst kind of user. “Or maybe you were yourself,” he countered softly, taking the opposite tact. Hand to her chin, he lifted her face to his. “And just don’t like what you discovered.”
    Defiantly, Lily held his gaze. “That being?”
    “The chemistry we have.”
    She drew a sharp breath. “I never denied...”
    “Wanting me?” He stared into her eyes for a long, heated moment, then dropped his hand.
    Her lower lip trembled. “It’s always been a question of timing.”
    “Which is never right,” he said, feeling another sucker punch coming on.
    “Please understand.” She gripped his forearms. “I never meant to hurt you.”
    He exhaled roughly. “Well, that sure makes all the difference.”
    On the verge of tears, she pleaded, “Can’t we just go back to being friends?”
    Here was his chance. To save himself from another round of heartbreak and humiliation at her hands and sever ties, too. Only that wasn’t what he wanted, either. “Friends,” he repeated, trying to figure out if that would ever suffice.
    Lily nodded, eager to make peace. “Former law school buddies. Colleagues in the legal profession. Neighbors.”
    Even as she spoke, it all sounded so lame. Had she not been through so much in the past few days thanks to her jerk of an ex, Gannon would have told her to hell with half measures, to hell with pretending