Katie sighed and turned up the flame on the corn. “Because I want it to be his idea, not mine,” she said with a pout, “which is something as foreign to me as patience, apparently.” She turned and sagged against the counter with a fold of her arms. “Besides, I promised.”
The fork in Charity’s hand froze midair, egg yolk caked between the tines. “Promised what?” she asked with shock in her tone.
The edge of Katie’s mouth crooked up. “No plotting, no ploys, no flirting, no seduction.”
Charity’s jaw dropped a full inch. “Sweet saints in heaven – Mitch would take my pulse.”
Faith snickered.
“So, you see, my hands are tied,” Katie said with a weighty sigh. “And believe me, I’m none too happy about it.”
Dropping the fork into the bowl with a clatter, Charity hurried over to lock Katie in a tight hug. “Oh, honey, I am so sorry! Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah,” Katie said with a smirk. “Pray that God turns up the heat so I don’t have to.”
“Hey, when we gonna eat – me and the guys are hungry!” The screen door slammed as Gabe barreled into the kitchen with sweaty pigtails. She snatched an egg from Charity’s platter on her way, earning her a playful swat.
“In the next ten minutes, as a matter of fact,” Marcy said as she mixed the slaw. “Did you set the tables like Mr. O’Connor asked, Gabriella Dawn?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe said with a groan. “Took me forever, too, with all them stupid tables lined up clear across Lizzie’s backyard.”
“Good girl,” Marcy said with a smile. “Now remember, he said you’re to be in charge of the little ones, so you’re the boss.”
A gleam lit Gabe’s eyes. “That includes Henry, don’t it?” “Absolutely!” Charity said with a wink of her eye. She plopped the last of the egg filling into the egg halves and carefully arranged them on the platter. “I’m hoping you can succeed where I’ve failed, Gabe Smith.” Her eyes narrowed, glittering with conspiracy as she licked the spoon. She tucked the tray of eggs into the icebox, then peered over her shoulder with a threatening smirk. “Don’t let me down.”
Ping!
“Yes!” Collin’s voice shot in the air along with his arms, effectively drowning out the groans of his competition. “The kid grinds ’em into the dust once again.” He snatched the horseshoes from the spike in Brady’s manicured lawn and delivered a cocky grin in Luke’s direction. “So, McGee, it looks like it’s time to stop hiding behind that baby and defend your title.”
Luke smiled, enjoying the afternoon as he sloped back against a gnarled oak with Kat in his arms, her pink frilly dress fanned against dark suspenders and the crisp white of the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. He latched a thumb in the pocket of his Glen plaid seersucker slacks and matched Collin’s cocky grin, gleam for gleam. A breeze scented by lilac bushes heavy with bloom feathered both Luke’s towhead and Kat’s auburn ringlets as he shifted her in his arms. “Hey, McGuire, don’t you worry, boy – I can teach you how it’s played with a baby in my arms and a hand tied behind my back.”
“Do it, Luke – it’s the only thing that’ll stop him from gloating.” Brady glanced over from a massive stone barbecue pit where the mouthwatering aroma of grilled meat billowed into the air. He piled the last of the barbecue on a platter and slathered it with more sauce before joining Patrick, Mitch, and Steven at the cedar picnic table he’d built himself. Before he sat, he slapped Sean on the shoulder with a wry grin. “Heaven knows Sean and I did our best to humble the boy, but I suspect he recruited divine intervention.”
Collin slacked a hip and grinned, bobbling the horseshoes in his hand. “You accusing me of cheating, Brady, is that what I’m hearing?”
Steven chuckled and fisted his drink. “I don’t know, Collin – cheating or raw talent. Sounds like a clear-cut choice to me.”
Brady rolled his neck and gave Collin a patient smile. “Settle down, Collin, you played a great game. But it wouldn’t surprise me if you had your wife praying for you.”
“Nope, wouldn’t do that, ol’ buddy.”
Mitch laughed. “Don’t have to. Faith’s smart enough to pray on her own. That woman doesn’t want to go home with a grouch.”
“I’ll show you grouch, Dennehy. Come on, one more game – put your money where your mouth is.”
“No, thanks – I think we should let Luke have that honor, don’t you, Patrick?” Mitch upended his ginger ale.
Patrick bounced Molly on his knee with a grin, looking the part of the doting grandpa as he shot Collin a wink. “Might be the wise thing to do. As I recall, the ‘boy’ is one of those who has to learn the hard way.”
“Hear that, Kat? Daddy’s got to teach somebody a valuable lesson.” Luke ambled over with a sleepy-eyed baby in his arms and lifted her in the air, poised to deposit her in Brady’s lap.
“Freeze!” Charity shot a mock glare, standing at the door with a tray of deviled eggs in her hands. “Don’t you dare hand that baby off, Luke McGee. The food’s ready, so the game has to wait.”
“Saved by the bell,” Luke said with a chuckle as he slipped Kat under his arm with the same firm hold reserved for a football. He strolled over to sit next to Brady and threatened Collin with a predatory grin. “You got a reprieve, McGuire, so enjoy your supper now, because after I’m done with you, it’ll be giving you heartburn.”
“You always were a little too big for your britches, Cluny my boy – I look forward to it.”
Brady laughed and jumped to his feet, glancing at Collin over his shoulder as he grabbed a bowl of potato salad from Marcy’s hands. “Yeah, ol’ buddy, we all are.”
The screen door squealed open to make way for a procession of women bearing platters and bowls of food. Their giggles and chatter filled the air, punctuated with the happy shrieks of apple-cheeked children, male laughter, and the surprisingly low boom of Gabe’s directives, smug with authority.
“Momma, is it time for ice cream?” Teddy looked up with a tug of Lizzie’s organza dress, leaving a sticky imprint on the yellow tea-rose pattern. She picked him up in her arms and planted a noisy kiss to his flushed cheek. “Nope, darlin’, not till after supper. But first, we’re going to wash those sticky hands.”
Collin snatched Teddy from Lizzie’s hold, unleashing wild giggles as he tickled his belly and hoisted him in the air. “I’ll wash him up, Lizzie, you sit. It’s Mother’s Day.” He plopped the toddler on his shoulders and bent to steal a kiss from his wife. “I’ll be wanting one of these next year, Little Bit, because it’s time for a little dirt and stickball around the house, don’t you think?”
Faith pressed a hand to her husband’s face with a tender smile, her voice brimming with affection. “I’m ready when you are, my love.”
“I’m ready,” Collin whispered with a gleam of hope in his eyes. He took his time with another lingering kiss before toting a squealing Teddy into the house.
When children’s plates were finally made and mothers seated with a kiss, and even Henry had been bullied into a chair, Patrick rose and bowed his head in prayer.
With a gentle kiss to Kat’s downy curls, Luke buried himself in the soft baby scent of Betty’s daughter – his daughter – and closed his eyes. Kat was family . . . his family . . . and a daughter who needed a mother as much as he needed a wife. He chanced a peek at Katie across the red-and-white checkered table, her golden head bowed in prayer, and his heart turned over. She was everything he had ever wanted – friend, partner, and confidante. And now, since Parker had put his guilt to rest, not only with his spoken assurance, but with the peace in his eyes and joy in his face, Luke could finally admit that Katie was everything he’d ever need. A wife, a mother, a lover . . . and the key to a family he could call his own.
A lump shifted in Luke’s throat as the prayer ended, and gentle chaos ensued with the passing of bowls and good-natured teasing and the jabber of children. With a full heart, his eyes scanned the table, taking in Charity wrestling with Mi
tch over the lightest roll, or Collin kissing Faith as she passed him the slaw. A smile shadowed his lips at the tender way Brady squeezed Lizzie’s hand or how Marcy heaped barbecue high on her husband’s plate. Beside him, Gabe chattered like a magpie while Emma and Katie giggled at one of Sean’s jokes. And then, in the midst of these remarkable people he’d been so blessed to know, he felt the quiet confirmation in his spirit. He was finally home.
Gabe passed the beans and Luke glanced up to see Katie watching him. He grinned, his pulse accelerating at the cute smirk on those full, sassy lips, and for the first time since he moved to Philly with Betty, he let himself revel in the warmth that flooded his veins. He could feel the heat in his eyes as he stared her down, noting with satisfaction that a hint of color rose in her cheeks.
“There’s trouble brewing in those eyes,” she remarked with a lift of her brow, but he only grinned wider. You have no idea, Katie Rose . . . how our lives are about to change.
“Hey, why does she get to sit with the grown-ups?” Henry demanded, giving Gabe the evil eye as she sidled close to Luke. “I’m almost her age – I want to sit with the grownups too.”
Patrick’s chin elevated to assess the situation through slatted eyes. “Gabe, you were assigned to oversee the children – your place is with them, not the adults. Move, young lady!”
Horror expanded the whites of her eyes. “But Mrs. O’Connor said I could sit next to Luke, and she promised!” With a grind of his jaw, Patrick seared her with a look before shifting his gaze to his wife. “I already told her no, Marcy. She’s a child, not an adult, and only nine years old – ”
“You said I was their boss,” Gabe said with a hike of her chin, “and I’m almost ten.”
Patrick stared her down. “Nine at the moment,” he said with strong emphasis. “And keep in mind that while you’re under my roof, Gabriella Dawn, I am the boss.”
“I’m not under your roof right now,” Gabe muttered, “I’m in Lizzie’s backyard.”
“Hush, Gabe,” Luke whispered with a pinch of her arm.
Patrick’s eyes flitted to his wife. “She’s already too old for her britches, Marcy – the girl needs to sit with the children.”
Marcy’s face melted into a plea. “But, Patrick, you know how she loves to sit next to Luke, and it is Mother’s Day . . .”
Luke bit back a smile as he straddled his dozing baby over his lap. He could almost swear Marcy had batted her eyes. A haze of ruddy color bled up the back of Patrick’s neck as his lips clamped into a tight line. Silence shrouded the table at the interplay between husband and wife as Patrick sat back in his chair and snapped his napkin in the air with a loud pop. “Well, I suppose I have no authority whatsoever, given the occasion.”
With a look of supreme victory, Gabe took “smug” to a whole new level. “Gosh, Mrs. O’Connor, you’re the best . . .”
Something flickered in Marcy’s cheek as she studied Gabe and then her husband. “Move to the children’s table, please,” she said quietly, finally turning her attention to Gabe.
Gabe’s eyes grew. “But – ”
“Now, young lady,” Marcy said with steel in her tone.
“But, you said – ”
“Not another word, or I will confiscate your stash of Dubble Bubble.”
Gabe gulped, right before her lips flattened into a grim line. She rose to her feet with a lingering groan and cauterized Patrick with a glare.
“And wipe that look off your face this instant, young lady. Mr. O’Connor is your foster parent and, as such, will have your respect. Is that understood?”
Gabe gaped, her eyes circled in shock . . . not unlike Patrick’s at the moment.
“Yes, ma’am,” she muttered. She moved to the children’s table where she plopped into the seat next to a gloating Henry.
As gingerly as possible, Charity leaned across the table to address Marcy with a loud whisper. “Uh, Mother . . . do you think Henry could spend the week?”
Marcy spooned potato salad in her mouth and chewed, the barest of smiles hovering on her lips. Reaching for the salt and pepper shakers, she skewed Charity with a look. “Very funny, young lady, but I think your father and I already have our hands full, don’t you?” She extended the seasoning to her husband, who sat watching her with wonder in his eyes. “Salt and pepper, Patrick? If I say so myself, my potato salad is rather bland.”
He took her by surprise with a quick brush of his lips to hers before squeezing her hand with a grin. “Not at all, darlin’, not at all. In fact, Marceline,” he said in a husky tone that brought a trace of rose to her cheeks, “I think it may be perfect – just like my wife.”
Luke popped barbecue in his mouth as a wail erupted from his daughter.
Katie started to rise. “I’ll take her, Luke – you finish your plate.”
He lifted Kat to his shoulder and hopped up before Katie could even clear her chair. “Nope, you stay and eat.” He nuzzled her neck while her chubby legs thrashed against his chest. “Come on, little girl, we’ll rock you and put you someplace comfortable.”
Katie chewed on her lip, only half listening to Sean’s story as she watched Luke cuddle and coo with his daughter on the way into the house. She startled at the touch of a hand on her arm and glanced up into the knowing eyes of Emma Malloy.
“He’s a wonderful father,” Emma said softly, her gaze trailing Katie’s to the screen door as it slammed behind Luke and his daughter. “He’ll make a wonderful husband.”
A sigh of frustration puffed from Katie’s lips. “Thanks, Emma. I agree . . . that is, if I ever get the chance to find out.”
A smile curved the left side of Emma’s mouth, almost obscuring the faded scar on the right. “Something tells me you will, Katie. And sooner than you might think.”
Katie squinted up. “You really think so?”
She nodded and rose, pulling Katie to her feet. “Come on, help me with ice cream?”
Katie followed her to the kitchen, reflecting on Emma’s comment as they chatted and scooped bowls of ice cream. Like the gentle woman herself, her words had been so soft, so sure, oozing into Katie’s spirit like a healing balm that helped to ease the frustration of Luke McGee.
When everyone had been served and Luke still hadn’t returned, Katie quietly slipped away from the lively buzz and hum of family conversations to seek him out. She found him in his room on the far side of the house, the one he shared with his daughter. Katie paused in the doorway, content to stop and just study him a while, this man determined to be only her friend. All at once, the realization that this was where he lived and slept stirred a warmth within, and her lips compressed. A warmth that was obviously getting harder to ignore.
Eyes closed, he lay on his back in his narrow bed. His feet were bare and his long legs crossed at the ankles while muscled arms folded protectively across Kat’s chunky little body as she slept on his chest. The rhythm of their breathing appeared as one, and the sunlit room was still except for the flutter of a breeze as it rippled the sheers of a large double window.
Katie released a silent sigh as she sagged against the doorframe, annoyed once again at the dangerous effect this man had on her pulse. The relaxation of sleep had no softening effect whatsoever on the firm jaw and finely chiseled profile that now sported a tan from time spent in the sun. She nibbled on her lip as she scanned his lean, muscled body, and heat suddenly steamed her cheeks at the thought of lying in his arms like that. With a catch of her breath, she quickly turned, suddenly anxious to leave.
“Don’t go.”
It was the faintest of whispers, but she whirled around, mortified at the blood that rushed to her cheeks. With a slow finger to his lips, his mouth eased into a half smile that caused her stomach to flip. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she watched him rise, graceful and strong like the athlete he was. With the gentlest of motion, he laid his daughter in the crib against the far wall, and then bent to press a soft kiss to her head.
Katie swallowed the emotion b
locking her throat. Oh, Lord, will we ever be more than friends . . .
He reached for his shoes, then ushered her into the hall and silently closed the door behind, finally releasing a long, weary breath. “Poor, little girl – she gnawed on my finger forever, so I know she’s teething. A nap will do her good.” He stooped to put his shoes on before sloping back against the door and folding his arms, those blue eyes assessing her with a look that weakened her knees. “Did you . . . want something, Katie Rose?” he asked softly.
Her breathing shallowed as she lifted her eyes, swallowing hard when her gaze locked with his. “No, I mean, yes . . . I mean . . . do you want ice cream?” she blurted.
Everything slowed as he reached to brush a strand of hair from her face, and against her will, his touch quickened her pulse. “Not ice cream,” he whispered, “but there is something I want . . .” The smile in his eyes heated several degrees as his gaze slowly dropped to her mouth, all but paralyzing her.
God, help me, this is it! she thought with a clutch of her stomach, and the notion almost buckled her limbs. “W-what?” she asked with a ragged breath, her lungs refusing to breathe.
He stepped forward and gently gripped her arms. “I need a favor, Katie. There’s a board dinner this weekend, and for once, Lizzie can’t watch Kat. Can you keep her on Saturday night?”
She blinked. That’s it? Her pulse was hammering, he had that look in his eye, and her bones had softened to churned butter . . . and all he wanted was for her to watch Kat??? Disappointment slammed so hard that it was a physical ache, and when the stun wore off, her anger took over, tingeing her words with an edge. “Sure, Luke – anytime.” Flinging his hands away, she turned to go, as angry at herself as she was at him.
A massive palm locked on her wrist, reeling her in with a dominant hold. Strong arms held her captive as he tucked his head close to hers, stealing her air. “I meant forever, Katie Rose,” he said in a husky whisper that blew warm in her ear.
She jerked away with shock in her eyes, her pulse erratic. “W-what d’you m-mean?” she stuttered, too afraid her ears had deceived her.