Welcome to Bluestone 1 - Bluestone homecoming (8 page)

“I’ll walk you out.” Leo pushed his
half-drunk glass back toward Quinn and stood. “Early morning for
me—going fishing with Dad and Max.”

Trinity nodded. “Max loves it. I’ve seen them
head down to the dock the past few weeks, since the ice-out. Your
dad is great with him.”

Leo realized he hadn’t seen much of his dad
interacting with Max. “I guess that’s the way with grandkids. You
feel like you get a second chance, maybe.”

“Some people don’t waste their first
chance.”

He knew she was warning him not to make that
same mistake, but flinched at the truth of her words nonetheless.
They said their good nights to Quinn and Lily and walked out the
door.

“Where’s your car?” Trinity asked when they
stepped out into the gravel parking lot.

“I walked, to give my mother peace of
mind.”

“What a good son. Get in, I’ll drive you
home.”

He crossed to the passenger door of her
Camry. “I live—”

“Leo, this is Bluestone. I know where just
about everyone lives.”

“Right.” He opened the door and folded himse
into the car. “Not used to being down so low.”

She started the engine. “Trying to be
environmentally responsible here.”

“Hey, mine is the greenest SUV on the
market.”

“Not saying much,” she said with a smile as
she backed out of the parking lot. “So do you like fishing?”

“I—look forward to spending time with my son
and my dad. The fishing bit…not so much. I like boats, though.”

“Motor boats, I bet. Going fast, skimming
across the water.”

“Yep. You?”

She glanced over. “I like motor boats,
too.”

“Well, then.”

The tone of his voice warmed her, but she had
no idea what he’d been going to say next because she pulled up in
front of his house. Stupid small towns. She shifted into park, and
he leaned down to peer at the house through the windshield. The
porch light and living room light were blazing.

“Mom was worried I wouldn’t find my way home,
I guess.”

“Moms are like that.”

“Thanks for the ride.” He leaned over and
before she realized what he was doing, she turned toward him.

The kiss meant for her cheek caught half of
her mouth, and she gasped in surprise. He drew back just a little
as she wished for the floorboard to open up and let her escape with
her humiliation. Instead, she was trapped as the look in his eyes
shifted, became something else, something that sent a thrill of
alarm and anticipation through her. He curved his hand around the
back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair, as he
drew her forward and angled his lips over hers.

His lips were soft and dry as they brushed
over hers once, twice, then settled over her mouth, taking
advantage of her soft sigh. His thumb caressed her temple as his
tongue teased the seam of her lips, dipping inside, filling her
with the yeasty taste of beer and the warmth of him. She lifted her
hands to his shoulders, then his jaw, her palm caressing the
stubble there, before gliding back into the short hair at the back
of his neck.

Her elbow hit the horn briefly, enough to
jolt them both back into reality. He pulled back, his fingers
trailing in the ends of her hair, the look on his face one of
regret—that he’d kissed her or that he’d stopped, she didn’t know.
Didn’t want to know.

He opened the door and swung his long legs
out. “Good night, Trinity. Be careful.”

She managed a nod, and forced herself to
drive away instead of watching him approach the house.

Maybe he was the perfect man to get involved
with. He was sexy and he wanted her, and he wouldn’t be around
long.

Then she wouldn’t have to tell him about her
daughter.

Leo rested his head against the side of the
boat, his cap pulled over his eyes, and listened to the silence
around him. Other than the occasional murmur by his father or Max,
the only sounds were the birds, the water slapping the hull and the
occasional other boater powering out farther onto the lake. He’d
tried conversation, only to be shut down by the other two
generations. So he stretched out in the sun, hat pulled low, and
thought about Trinity.

He sure as hell hadn’t planned to kiss her
last night. He didn’t know what made him lean to kiss her cheek—he
wasn’t a cheek-kisser. But he’d felt he needed to do something, and
when she turned, well, all bets were off. He’d loved feeling her
hands on his skin, in her hair, and could have kissed her for
hours, because once she overcame her surprise, wow. He’d used all
his self-control so he didn’t drag her across the console and onto
his lap. Wouldn’t do for the reverend’s sister to be caught necking
in a car.

Everything about his impulse was wrong. He
had to concentrate on Max, she worked with Max. She knew everything
about him and he knew nothing about her, except she was gorgeous
and generous and kissed like a fantasy. He could ask Lily, maybe,
but wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal that much about himself.

Besides, he wasn’t sticking around. He didn’t
want a relationship.

He’d been with a couple of women since Liv
died, he wasn’t going to lie, but nothing serious, nothing more
than a night, a release. But Trinity was different, drew him in a
different way that he couldn’t identify and didn’t want to
consider. And he had no business getting involved with her. But he
couldn’t think of anything else.

“Dad! Dad! You got a bite!” Max snatched the
hat from Leo’s eyes and Leo squinted against the sudden brightness.
Max’s expression was more animated than Leo had seen it since he’d
been back—since...too long.

Leo curled into a sitting position,
apparently much slower than Max wanted. The boy pulled on his arm
until he got to his feet and approached his wobbling pole. Max
didn’t let go as he picked up the pole and felt the unfamiliar
wriggling.

“Like this, Dad, like this.”

Max dragged Leo’s hands into position on the
rod and lent his slight strength to help him tease the fish along,
let the line play out, then reel it in. With his son’s help, the
memories returned, the thrill of the catch. Max was laughing, the
most beautiful sound in the world as the fish flashed above the
surface of the water. The fish sensed freedom and dove. Max lunged
for the pole and helped Leo pull the fish up. The three of them
watched it dangle in the sunlight before Leo reeled it in, swinging
the end of the pole over the deck, where Max hopped happily,
hanging on Leo’s arm.

“It’s a big one, Dad! Wow!”

“Get the camera,” Leo’s dad said, and Max
bolted for the Canon he kept in his knapsack.

“Hold it by your face, Dad,” Max instructed,
holding the complicated-looking instrument in front of his
face.

“You know how to use that thing?” Leo
teased.

“Dad. I’m nine. Of course. Smile.”

Leo did as he was instructed and listened for
the clicks as he watched his son’s small fingers play with levers
and buttons, adjust lenses, just as he’d seen his own cameramen do.
His grin widened, then when Max would put the camera away, he
stopped him.

“Let Grandpa take a picture of both of us.
You helped, right?”

He saw a moment of hesitation, then Max
nodded and shoved the camera at his grandpa. Leo refused to let his
eyes mist as Max snuggled against him for the picture, his small
hand closing over Leo’s on the line. He faced his grandpa and Leo
could sense his pride.

“Got some good ones.” His dad lowered the
camera, his own eyes misty.

“Time to let him go.” Max pulled away and
reached for the fish.

Leo watched his son carefully and deftly
remove the hook from the fish and toss the creature back into the
lake. Pride swelled and he ruffled his boy’s hair.

They went home for lunch. They sky clouded up
and threatened rain, so Leo drove Max to Target and bought a gaming
console. They spent the rest of the day playing bowling and skiing,
which his mother thought was ridiculous. But Max was happy and Leo
would do anything to keep that smile on his face.

“Don’t spoil him. That’s not going to do any
good,” his mother chided when Leo was cleaning the dishes after
dinner.

“One day like this isn’t going to spoil
him.”

“There will be limits on that video game in
my house, you know?”

“For me, or him?” Leo teased.

Nora folded her arms and leveled her
no-nonsense look at her son. “What are you going to do, Leo? Are
you moving here? Are you going to go back overseas?”

“I don’t know, Mom.” Leo set the last dish in
the drainer and leaned on the counter, dishtowel wadded in his
hand. “I haven’t even been back a week. I’m still trying to figure
things out. Yes, he’s lonely, yes, I see that he’s unhappy a lot of
the time, but the kid lost his mother.”

“Two years ago. He should miss her, but he’s
just—I’m worried for him, that he feels abandoned.”

By him. Yes, he knew. That was why he was
here, wasn’t it? And his mother wanted to know if he was going to
stay. He didn’t want to lie to her, but didn’t know the truth, not
yet.

“I came here. That’s all I’m ready to decide
yet.” He really needed to talk to his editor about that leave of
absence.

His mother set her jaw in a way that reminded
him of Max. “You should give him his bath.”

Leo draped the drying towel over the rack.
“He told me he doesn’t want anyone to give him a bath any more,
that he can do it himself.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “Then see
that he does it and cleans up after himself.”

Leo turned to leave the room, then swung back
to her. “Do you and Dad go to church on Sundays?” They hadn’t when
he was a kid, but people changed as they grew older.

Her head snapped up. “No, why?”

Because he wanted to see the Methodist
reverend’s sister. “No reason. Just wondering how early I needed to
get up tomorrow.”

“Not as early as today, though I do like to
make a nice breakfast.”

His mother was an excellent cook and he
looked forward to breakfast but was oddly disappointed as he walked
upstairs to corral Max into the tub.

***

After yesterday’s rains, Sunday was
beautiful. Trinity tried her best not to fidget in the first row
during the church service. Her brother must have seen something,
though, because he cast a stern look in her direction as she sat
beside her parents. She felt nine years old again, every nerve
bouncing as they’d done since Friday night.

Leo had kissed her. Okay, it had been an
accident, but then he’d really kissed her, and it had been
everything she’d hoped, sexy and filled with longing. He was the
wrong man for her, but not seeing him yesterday, while she helped
her mother clean the house, was torture. And of course he wouldn’t
be here because he wasn’t the church-going type. He was the type to
see church-going as a weakness.

Still, to make sure, she glanced over her
shoulder. As usual, Quinn stood alone in one of the pews, hands
folded in front of him as he looked straight ahead. Quinn was one
of two men who wore a suit to church—he and her father. She was
always too intimidated to ask Quinn, who was ordinarily in a
T-shirt, flannel and jeans, why he didn’t dress like everyone else.
This was one time she didn’t see him with Lily, who went to the
Catholic church in Winston.

Her mother tapped her knee and she turned
around, trying not to heave a sigh as her brother went on and on
about discipleship. She should be paying attention, but her gaze
drifted to the glowing stained glass window. Not for the first
time, she wondered if churches used stained glass windows not to
inspire, but to keep parishioners from seeing what they were
missing outside.

Finally the service concluded and everyone
exited. Since her brother wasn’t married, she and her parents
joined him on the steps to greet the departing parishioners.

The sound of a man calling, “Max!” drew her
attention to the baseball diamond adjacent to the church. She
twisted to see, then leaned on the rail to watch Leo position his
son at home plate, angling the bat just so, modeling a swing,
before trotting out to the pitcher’s mound and tossing a soft
pitch. Max swung too early, so Leo came forward, collected the
ball, made adjustments to Max’s stance, pointing on the bat to
where the ball should be before Max swung.

Before she knew what she was doing, Trinity
crossed the church yard, her heels sinking a bit in the grass.
“Need a catcher?” she called.

Leo straightened and stared. She slowed,
suddenly self-conscious. She must make an odd picture, coming to
play ball in her new mint-green sleeveless dress and heels, but she
couldn’t resist. Leo’s welcoming grin told her she hadn’t made a
mistake.

“Wouldn’t you rather go home and change?” he
asked, though his eyes lit with appreciation at the v-neck of her
dress.

She kicked her shoes to the side as she took
her place behind where home plate should be. “Really not. Don’t
swing back too far, Max. I don’t want to be clocked in the
head.”

“Here, take my glove.” Leo tossed it in her
direction and she caught it, then slid her hand into the leather,
warm from his hand.

With a flip of her skirt, she crouched behind
Max, glove at the ready. “I’ll tell you when to swing,” she told
the boy.

“Catchers don’t help batters,” he said.

“Not usually. But right now we’re all on the
same team.” She nodded to Leo that he was ready, and he pitched.
“Swing!” she called to Max, who did, hard enough to spin him all
the way around. He missed and the ball landed in her glove. She
straightened to throw it back to Leo, who caught it easily. “My
fault,” she said to Max. “I’ll time it a little better next
time.”

He missed the next pitch, and the pitch after
that. She could tell by the tension in his shoulders that Leo was
itching to come over to correct him, but he held onto his patience,
his voice smooth and calm.