Yesterday's Embers (Clayburn Novels Book 3) Read online

  She would miss them, too. Maybe she shouldn’t have made plans. Family was important. But she was looking forward to Sunday too…maybe more than she cared to admit.

  “Well, stop by after if you can,” Rick said.

  She smiled at the sulkiness in his tone. For a minute, she considered calling Doug and canceling. But the minute quickly passed.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” she told her brother. “We probably won’t be done till late. Talk to you later.” She hung up before he could grill her further.

  Doug’s Suburban pulled into Mickey’s drive Sunday afternoon at twelve-thirty on the dot, and she ran out to meet him before he could get out of the car. He waved through the windshield and reached across the seat to open the passenger door for her.

  He was a gentleman. She had to give him that. He’d stayed and talked to her twice at the daycare when he picked the kids up last week…stayed for half an hour while the kids hung out in the playroom. He was easy to talk to, and he seemed to think the same about her. She could almost see his heart healing as the days went by. And even though it was mostly his kids they talked about, it felt as if she’d made a new friend.

  That’s all we are…friends. She had to keep reminding herself of that.

  She crawled into the Suburban and turned in her seat to greet the kids.

  The truth was, she slipped too often into imagining what it would be like if she and Doug were dating for real. Of course, he couldn’t possibly see her that way, but she hoped for a day when he might.

  Out of nowhere, an image of Trevor Ashlock formed in her mind. And a cloud of doubt enveloped her. Was there something wrong with her that she was attracted to the widowers of Clayburn? There was some story or legend about that, wasn’t there? A black widow who latched on to men who’d lost their wives. She shuddered. Even she could see how creepy it sounded.

  But she’d been young—barely twenty-five—and still licking her wounds over the breakup with Jon, when she developed a king-size crush on Trevor shortly after he lost his wife. He’d never reciprocated her feelings—probably never even known how she felt about him. It wasn’t like she’d pursued him. And Trevor was married again now…happily. And with a baby due any day.

  And this wasn’t some schoolgirl crush she had on Doug DeVore. She was wise enough to know that it was too soon for him to even consider another relationship. Besides, the feelings she had for Doug were more akin to compassion and sympathy than romantic love. She was merely imagining what the future might hold for them. Not like the unhealthy fantasizing she’d done over Trevor. And this friendship went two ways. After all, Doug was the one who’d invited her to go with him to Salina. Not the other way around.

  Still, she couldn’t help trying to view Doug through her brothers’ eyes. Would they approve? Tony and Alex maybe. They didn’t dote on her quite as badly as her oldest big brother. Rick would be a tough sell. Especially if she missed any more family dinners because of Doug.

  Harley bounced in her car seat.

  “Miss Harley gets to come this time, huh?”

  Doug shrugged. “Not by choice exactly. Harriet was busy this afternoon. I figured she’d do better at the bowling alley than a movie theater. We’ll see.”

  “Oh, she’ll have a blast.” Mickey waved at the other kids, then settled in her seat and buckled her belt.

  Landon leaned forward with a wide grin. “Dad says he’s gonna whoop you today. He got a new ball and everything.”

  “Landon! Don’t give away my strategies, buddy.”

  That only egged the boy on. “Yeah, he borrowed Uncle Brad’s lucky bowling ball and he’s been practicing in the upstairs hall.”

  “Hey! Hey!” Doug looked sheepish and gave Landon the evil eye in the rearview mirror. “Come on. You’re killing me here, bud.”

  Mickey bit her lip, holding back a smile. “Practicing, huh?”

  “Yeah, he ’bout blew a hole in the sheetrock throwing gutter balls.” Landon was on a roll.

  She couldn’t hold it in another minute. Her spirits fluttered and took wing, and all doubts about missing a Valdez get-together went out the window. “Well, this ought to be good.”

  When they walked out of the bowling alley a few hours later, Doug’s hangdog face and slumped shoulders told the story. He managed to laugh at the sound thrashing she’d given him. “Okay, maybe you did beat me, but I came in a strong third.”

  Mickey hitched Harley up on her hip and feigned a disapproving frown. “It’s pretty pathetic when you have to brag about scoring better than small children to feel good about yourself.”

  That left him speechless for a minute. He reached to ruffle Landon’s hair. “You know, if my kids really loved me they would have seen to it that I at least came in second.”

  “You only beat me by two points, Dad,” Kayeleigh reminded him.

  Landon, who’d nabbed second place, ducked out from under Doug’s grasp and gloated. “Yeah, that lucky ball wasn’t so lucky, huh, Dad?”

  “No, it wasn’t. And I’m going to have a word with that brother-in-law of mine. Lucky ball indeed,” he muttered under his breath.

  Mickey laughed again and Harley joined in as if the joke was on her. Mickey turned to make sure the twins were behind them. “Hurry up, you two.”

  She looked over their heads and caught the reflection in the front window of the bowling alley. The sun’s angle turned the plate glass into a mirror, and the image reflected there made her catch her breath. They looked like a family. The family she’d always wanted. Doug had a kid under each arm, the twins were skipping hand-in-hand behind them, and she—she had a baby in her arms. They were all smiling, looking like they belonged together. It was like a murky video image of her dream come true.

  “You okay?”

  She looked up to see Doug watching her, waiting for the twins to catch up.

  She shook off the fantasy. She had no business entertaining such thoughts. We’re friends, she reminded herself again. They’d gone bowling a couple of times. Big deal. She was thinking crazy thoughts.

  “Mickey?”

  “I’m fine.” Embarrassed, feeling like he’d read her mind, she turned away and made a show of hurrying the twins along.

  The drive back to Clayburn was rowdy, but she was grateful for the kids’ noise that prevented her and Doug from having to talk.

  When the Dairy Barn came into sight just inside Clayburn’s city limit, Doug gave in to the kids’ pleas for ice cream. “Is that okay with you?” A rhetorical question if ever there was one, since there was no way she was going to disappoint his kids now.

  “Sure. We could even take it to my house if you want.” She looked up into the cloudless blue sky. “Take advantage of this gorgeous weather.” The sun was sinking fast, and the 60-degree temperature would be history by the time they got to her house, but she could make a fire in the pit Rick and Tony had built for her last summer. She felt elated at the prospect of extending the evening.

  “Sounds good to me.” Doug nodded. “We’ll get a half gallon to go.”

  “Chocolate!” Landon shouted.

  Kayeleigh punched his arm. “No way! You always get chocolate. Vanilla, Dad. He always gets to choose.”

  “Cut it out, you two.”

  Mickey raised her hand, playing referee. “How about we get a quart of each? My treat,” she added quickly.

  “Ever the diplomat.” Doug held up a palm for a high-five.

  She slapped her hand against his, grinning.

  Twenty minutes later she and Doug were huddled in Adirondack chairs by the fire, their ice cream dripping down the cones faster than they could eat it. Out in the yard, the kids played a game of tag in the waning spring sunlight.

  “It was a fun day,” Mickey said, attempting to rein in her enthusiasm. In truth, it had been one of the happiest days of her life. But she could hardly tell Doug that.

  Chapter 17

  Doug swaggered out to the truck, relishing Mickey’s side-splitting laughter as s
he herded the kids behind him. He’d finally, finally beaten the woman at her own game—bowled a 236. And he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

  While she pulled seatbelt duty with the kids, he sat behind the wheel gloating.

  She finished buckling Harley in and climbed into the Suburban beside him.

  “Let’s see,” he said. “Now what did you bowl again? I forgot.”

  “Oh, brother.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I suppose I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

  “Not unless you somehow manage to get the championship title back. And by the way, as I recall, the rule was, loser buys dinner. Am I right?” He wiggled his eyebrows, which earned him a punch on the bicep. “Ow!”

  “Okay, okay. Dinner’s on me.”

  He could tell she was having to work hard not to crack a smile. And he was loving every minute of it. Somehow, Mickey had returned to him—to all of them—the gift of laughter. For a few hours every Sunday, she helped them to forget the terrible thing that had happened to them. And he adored her for it.

  So did the kids, though they probably didn’t think about it in such concrete terms. But Mickey had endeared herself to them even more than she had as their daycare teacher, if that was possible.

  Sometimes when he picked the kids up from daycare and stayed to talk to Mickey, they talked about how he and the kids were coping with the tragedy. Sometimes they talked about Rachel, with Mickey helping him to remember sweet things his daughter had done and said.

  But by unspoken agreement, Sundays were strictly for fun. It was the best therapy he could have hoped for. For the whole family.

  “Mickey D’s again?” he said, putting the car in gear.

  “No…” She thought for a minute and then a spark came to her eyes. “How about Mickey V’s tonight?”

  He laughed, remembering her warning the first time they’d gone bowling. “Sounds good to me.”

  “My brother butchered last week and they brought me a bunch of hamburger steaks. We can grill those outside.”

  “What’s this ‘we’ business?” he teased. “I thought dinner was on the loser.”

  “I’m providing the food, buster. I’m not playing chef and dishwasher too.”

  He held up a hand in surrender. “I know, I know. Just kidding.” His mouth was already watering at the thought of a thick, juicy burger.

  “You man the grill and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Deal.” It sounded like a very good deal….

  An hour later, he watched the kids play in Mickey’s spacious yard while the two of them enjoyed the meal she’d “whipped up.”

  The sun had gone down. The night air was chilly and laced with the lingering scent of grilled beef.

  “You want some ice cream?” Her teeth chattered and she shivered.

  “You crazy woman…offering me ice cream while you sit here shivering.” He looked up at the graying sky. “It is almost cold out here, isn’t it?”

  “No almost about it. And I thought it was shorts weather.” Mickey pulled shapely legs up onto the wrought-iron bench where they were sitting and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You want to go inside?”

  He looked out over the yard where the kids were turning cartwheels on the grass. “I’m not sure I trust the kids not to tear up your flowers.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “Do you want to go in?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He could almost see the gooseflesh rising on her bare arms.

  “Here.” It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip off his windbreaker and drape it over her shoulders. He hadn’t counted on leaving his arm around her. But there it was. And now it seemed awkward for him to move away.

  Mickey leaned into him ever so slightly. Enough that he realized she’d been anticipating the possibility. For a long minute he struggled with the implications of his simple gesture. All the while they’d worked together making dinner, he’d found excuses for their fingers to touch, or to put a gentle hand at the small of her back as he slipped by her to reach for something. If he left his arm around her now, let her respond to him as he knew she would, they would automatically move to a new level in their friendship.

  He was acutely conscious of the warmth of her arm beneath his hand. Her hair barely brushed his shoulder, and the scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils. Desire swept over him in a way it hadn’t since Kaye….

  He desperately wanted to draw Mickey close, feel her weight against him. Run his fingers through her silky hair. Make love to her––

  He cut the thought off, not wanting to, but knowing he needed to. It felt like forever since he’d known the touch of a woman. The touch of his wife. Mickey was a beautiful, terrible reminder of that.

  Knowing there would be a price, yet not caring to count it at the moment, he slid closer to her until their hips were almost touching on the bench. He tightened his arm around her. “Mickey…”

  She moved closer still, leaning her head back on his shoulder. She rested one dainty hand on his knee, her fingers drawing gentle circles in the denim.

  “It’s been a good day, Doug. Thank you.” Her breath tickled his neck.

  She shuddered, and he didn’t think it was from the cold.

  “It was a good day. Mickey—” Something told him to backpedal. Stop, before they traversed a line they could never cross back over. “I-I’ve enjoyed our Sundays together. It…it’s helped a lot.”

  She leaned heavier against him. Oh, dear God. I don’t know what to do. Kaye… His wife’s presence seemed so strong. Guilt pressed in on him. But Kaye was gone. She was never coming back. And he felt something—something powerful for this woman who’d made him laugh again. Made him hope again.

  But surely it was too soon.

  He looked down at Mickey. Long, thick lashes lay against the curve of her olive cheek. She was a beautiful woman. Kaye had been pretty in a girl-next-door, all-American-cheerleader sort of way. But Mickey Valdez was a beauty by anyone’s standards. With her wavy, almost-black hair and those violet eyes, she was no doubt accustomed to turning heads. He knew strangers assumed she was his girlfriend—or his wife—when they were out in public together. He enjoyed being the envy of other men when he and Mickey were out on one of their Sunday dates.

  Dates? The word rolled so easily from his thoughts. Well, what else were they? C’mon, DeVore. Be honest. You may as well be dating her. And what was wrong with that? No one expected him to grieve forever, to stay single forever.

  He squeezed Mickey’s shoulder and brought his hand to her head. She put her hand over his and stroked his fingers. He gave a strangulated laugh. “I suddenly don’t feel cold anymore.”

  She smiled up at him. A smile that let him know she was feeling the same things he was feeling. He planted a kiss on top of her head, brushed a wisp of hair away from her face.

  From the yard, Harley’s squeal of glee jolted him to his senses. With a gentle nudge, he lifted Mickey away from him and rose, moved away from her to look out over the deck’s railing. “Landon, don’t get her all worked up.” You ought to listen to your own advice, DeVore. “It’s almost time to go. You guys need to start gathering your stuff up.”

  They hadn’t brought a thing with them, but it was all he could think to say.

  He leaned to put a hand on top of Mickey’s. She was still sitting where he’d left her. Her head was bowed, and he couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or hurt…or praying…or what.

  He cleared his throat. “Thanks for everything. We…we really need to go. Got to get the little squirt in bed.”

  She lifted her head, and somehow he read every nuance of her smile. It told him that she knew he wanted to stay, knew he wanted more of what they’d dabbled at. Maybe even knew that it would happen. Soon enough.

  Well, maybe she was right. But for now he was done. He rubbed his hands together. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, and he wouldn’t let it go any farther. Not to
night. Not until he had a chance to think things through.

  She unfolded herself and glided toward him. For one terrifying moment, he was afraid she was going to kiss him good night. But she brushed by him and started to clear the dishes off the patio table.

  The kids made a stink about leaving so soon, and he had to get on their case. By the time he finally got everyone rounded up and strapped into the Suburban, the enchantment of earlier had dissolved. Though it certainly left an imprint.

  Mickey seemed to be herself again, helping him buckle seatbelts, chattering with the kids, and dishing out challenges about their next bowling night. She didn’t seem to notice when he didn’t offer to walk her to the door.

  Driving home, he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. Dreamed up the electricity that had arced between them back there in her yard. But no. His fingers still tingled where he’d touched her. His lips still burned where he’d kissed her fragrant hair. He’d only known her—like this anyway—for two weeks. But there was no denying that he was falling for her.

  And he had no idea what to do with that fact.

  Chapter 18

  “Come on in, stranger.” Rick opened the door wide and tipped an imaginary hat.

  “Well, look who decided to come back into the fold,” Tony called from his roost on the recliner in front of the TV.

  “Shut up, you two.” Mickey seared her brothers with the fiercest look she could feign and carried the Boston cream pie she’d made back to the kitchen.

  Angie and Rita were at the counter in Angie’s tidy kitchen chopping vegetables for the salad.

  “Mmmm…something smells good.”

  “Rick made barbecue.”

  “Yummy.” She slid her cake-taker onto the counter and exchanged hugs with her sisters-in-law. “Alex and Gina aren’t here yet?”

  “They just called,” Angie said. “They’re on their way.”

  “The important question is, where’s that baby? You look terrific, Angie.”