terrible one. Think— really think—about the
circles your mother ran around you. You’ll see that I’m right.”
His eyes sharpened,
and there it was—only a flicker, but surely a trace of the explosive,
destructive man he’d become right before he’d run himself out of town. His
mother, in his life or not, was a hellhound he couldn’t break away from, and it
chilled Valerie to realize that the woman still possessed some sort of hold on
him.
“Lucy needs to know
I’m not walking out on her,” he said.
How close could he
get before he became too close? The good doctor didn’t seem even remotely
interested in healing their friendship. Probably because it was too damaged,
had been for too long … and was dead far beyond resurrection.
Maybe that wasn’t
such a bad thing, holding him at arm’s length. Despite all the measures he’d
taken to avoid tying himself down, he was unwavering about this. For now, at
least. Could he be some sort of father to Lucy without chipping away at Valerie’s
guard? Without adding to the guilt that had resurfaced full force the moment
she saw him outside the hospital boardroom?
She hoped to hell
that would be the case. “We can talk about visitation—”
Peyton looked ready
to shoot the suggestion down, but they were both cut short by Dinah.
“Kids, kids!” she
called, making her way along the stone pathway from the house. The aroma of
beef gravy reached them before she did. “Dinner’ll be done soon. You like stew,
hon?”
Valerie followed
Dinah’s expectant gaze to Peyton. The older woman referred to anyone as “hon”
and just about anyone under the age of sixty as “kid.” “Oh, Dinah, he’s not
stay—”
“In fact, I’d love
stew,” Peyton broke in. “Been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal.”
“We’ll fix that
straightaway,” Dinah declared with a decisive nod.
He extended his
hand to her, suddenly all charm and charisma. “Thanks for the invite, Miss
Dinah. I’m Peyton Turner.”
Dinah positively
beamed, beside herself to have another person to feed. “‘Miss’! Hmm, I haven’t
been called that in forever and a day. And I know just who you are, Doc. Your
name’s on the tongue of every gossip in town, thanks to Sully Joe who tipped
off Junie at the diner. Swear the reason it’s so hard to get a call through for
takeout is ’cause the woman uses the phone as a hotline.” Then she smiled.
“Never mind all that. My, my, you and Lucy have the same look. In the kitchen
when she told me you’re her papa, I tossed my oven mitts on the counter and
just had to get another peek. Goodness, same frown-y type mouth and those eyes
…”
“You’d rather eat
someplace in town, right, Peyton?” Valerie said.
“Actually, no.” He
offered his arm to Dinah, who took it without skipping a beat. On his way past
Valerie he added under his breath, “Try thinking of this as visitation. ”
P EYTON WAS AWARE of Valerie the instant she
entered the house. She’d come in through the same mudroom entrance as he and
Dinah, though several minutes later. He half wondered whether she’d lingered
outside screaming and cussing in frustration with nobody to hear but horses and
cattle and that cat he’d noticed hanging around.
When she rounded
the corner to the kitchen that opened to a family room now crowded with people,
he could smell dirt and sweat—his guess would be human and horse—and underneath
it all, coconuts.
His senses were
suddenly thrown like a switch, but stuck midway between being turned off … and
on.
Hell. That hadn’t
exactly come out of nowhere, if he was being honest. He’d been dreaming of this
same woman all night and could even now remember the actual feel of all that
rich dark hair fisted in his hands.
But it wouldn’t do
either one of them any good for his thoughts to go in that direction: straight
to a dead end.
“Where’ve you
been?” he asked her under his breath, sidling close.
“In the office.
Going over
circles your mother ran around you. You’ll see that I’m right.”
His eyes sharpened,
and there it was—only a flicker, but surely a trace of the explosive,
destructive man he’d become right before he’d run himself out of town. His
mother, in his life or not, was a hellhound he couldn’t break away from, and it
chilled Valerie to realize that the woman still possessed some sort of hold on
him.
“Lucy needs to know
I’m not walking out on her,” he said.
How close could he
get before he became too close? The good doctor didn’t seem even remotely
interested in healing their friendship. Probably because it was too damaged,
had been for too long … and was dead far beyond resurrection.
Maybe that wasn’t
such a bad thing, holding him at arm’s length. Despite all the measures he’d
taken to avoid tying himself down, he was unwavering about this. For now, at
least. Could he be some sort of father to Lucy without chipping away at Valerie’s
guard? Without adding to the guilt that had resurfaced full force the moment
she saw him outside the hospital boardroom?
She hoped to hell
that would be the case. “We can talk about visitation—”
Peyton looked ready
to shoot the suggestion down, but they were both cut short by Dinah.
“Kids, kids!” she
called, making her way along the stone pathway from the house. The aroma of
beef gravy reached them before she did. “Dinner’ll be done soon. You like stew,
hon?”
Valerie followed
Dinah’s expectant gaze to Peyton. The older woman referred to anyone as “hon”
and just about anyone under the age of sixty as “kid.” “Oh, Dinah, he’s not
stay—”
“In fact, I’d love
stew,” Peyton broke in. “Been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal.”
“We’ll fix that
straightaway,” Dinah declared with a decisive nod.
He extended his
hand to her, suddenly all charm and charisma. “Thanks for the invite, Miss
Dinah. I’m Peyton Turner.”
Dinah positively
beamed, beside herself to have another person to feed. “‘Miss’! Hmm, I haven’t
been called that in forever and a day. And I know just who you are, Doc. Your
name’s on the tongue of every gossip in town, thanks to Sully Joe who tipped
off Junie at the diner. Swear the reason it’s so hard to get a call through for
takeout is ’cause the woman uses the phone as a hotline.” Then she smiled.
“Never mind all that. My, my, you and Lucy have the same look. In the kitchen
when she told me you’re her papa, I tossed my oven mitts on the counter and
just had to get another peek. Goodness, same frown-y type mouth and those eyes
…”
“You’d rather eat
someplace in town, right, Peyton?” Valerie said.
“Actually, no.” He
offered his arm to Dinah, who took it without skipping a beat. On his way past
Valerie he added under his breath, “Try thinking of this as visitation. ”
P EYTON WAS AWARE of Valerie the instant she
entered the house. She’d come in through the same mudroom entrance as he and
Dinah, though several minutes later. He half wondered whether she’d lingered
outside screaming and cussing in frustration with nobody to hear but horses and
cattle and that cat he’d noticed hanging around.
When she rounded
the corner to the kitchen that opened to a family room now crowded with people,
he could smell dirt and sweat—his guess would be human and horse—and underneath
it all, coconuts.
His senses were
suddenly thrown like a switch, but stuck midway between being turned off … and
on.
Hell. That hadn’t
exactly come out of nowhere, if he was being honest. He’d been dreaming of this
same woman all night and could even now remember the actual feel of all that
rich dark hair fisted in his hands.
But it wouldn’t do
either one of them any good for his thoughts to go in that direction: straight
to a dead end.
“Where’ve you
been?” he asked her under his breath, sidling close.
“In the office.
Going over
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