Raising the Soldier's Son(9)

“I want to be in his life, Annabeth. If I’d known about him, I would have been in his life from the beginning.”

She wanted to believe him. But how could she? He’d broken her heart. She’d be a fool to let him scrape under her defenses again.

“Have dinner with me, then,” he surprised them both with the invitation.

“No.” She denied instantly. She’d be mad to accept.

“Hear me out. Before I meet Wade, I want to know a little about him. Just… give me something, Annabeth.”

The anguish in his eyes convinced her in a way his arguments never could. She sighed, frustrated with herself and her weakness where this man was concerned. “I’m working tonight, but it’s always quiet on a Monday. You can come and ask questions at the bar. If you want.”

He did want. “Sounds good. Can I drive you over?”

“No.” She frowned. She needed to move. She had to expend some nervous energy before she got to work. Jeanie would take one look at her and know immediately that something was up. Annabeth had to get her feelings under control first.

Kirk had always grappled with her stubborn streak. But right now, he was dazed, and totally confused. “Okay. Suit yourself. Annabeth,” he called to her, as she walked down the road. She turned, slowly, and the hint of a breeze lifted her hair, carrying its sweet fragrance to him. “I will see you tonight.”

She nodded, her mouth dry. Like it or not, Kirk was back in her life now.

A short time later, as Annabeth set up the beach umbrellas on the deck, to shade the outside tables from the glare of the summer sun, Emma followed her around like an angry tiger. “I can’t believe you told him!”

“I thought you wanted me to,” Annabeth drawled with a frown of concentration, as she flicked the handle to lift one of the bright red shades.

“I did. Then I remembered how hard he hurt you, and what a scumbag he is.” She shook her head. “He’s going to hurt you and he’s going to hurt Wade. You’re crazy to think this is a good idea.”

Annabeth’s stomach was in knots. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think it’s the only thing I could do. He is Wade’s daddy. You were right. He deserved to know.”

“No. I was wrong,” Emma said with a shake of her head.

Annabeth was desperately miserable, and yet she laughed. “Don’t! It’s done. I can’t undo it now anyway, so please just nod and say something like, Oh, good on you, great decision.”

Emma heaved her hands on to her hips. “Oh, good on you, great decision,” she repeated, her words laced with angry irony.

“Why are you getting so steamed up?” Annabeth asked curiously, as she moved to the next table.

“Because I picked up the pieces. I saw how he left you. And I don’t want to go through it again.”

“Nor do I,” Annabeth promised earnestly. “But it won’t be like that this time, Me. I’m older and wiser. Besides,” she grunted, pushing the umbrella over a sticky spot on the handle, “I don’t think I have any heart left to break. He did a pretty thorough job the first time ‘round. Time might have moved on, but I never did.” She threw her friend a wistful expression. “True love isn’t so easy to forget.”

“Which goes to show he never really loved you,” Emma said unnecessarily. “I’m sorry to be harsh, honey, but you need to keep your eyes open. He’s a smooth talking devil, far too gorgeous for his own good, and I don’t want you to look into those big blue eyes of his and forget any of this. He didn’t love you. Not really. Not when he could leave you like that.”

“I know.” Annabeth grabbed Emma’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re not saying anything I haven’t already realized myself.” She surveyed the deck, checking that all the umbrellas were up, the chairs pushed in, the tables wiped, and nodded. “How did Saturday go?”

“Saturday? Oh, right.” Emma followed Annabeth inside, looking enviously at her friend’s shapely, tanned legs. “Well, the Loxton town fair is hardly the highlight of my professional calendar, but it’s nice to do something other than weddings and babies, I suppose.”

“You’re saying you weren’t in awe of those enormous pumpkins?” Annabeth giggled as she pulled the bar stools down one by one.

“I’m always in awe of the pumpkins,” Emma contradicted mock seriously. “Hate to think what they put in the soil, though, huh.”

“Chemicals and steroids,” Annabeth agreed with a murmur.

“Yeah. Gross. Ah well, at least it was something different. I’m flat out with all the usual stuff until the end of the year. Although, did I tell you that hoity toity Virginia cancelled me for next weekend?”

“Can she do that?”

“Well, usually I require more notice, but to be honest, I was sort of relieved.”

“Oh? I would have thought her portrait would give you good exposure?”

Emma winced. “But working out what angle would minimize her fourteen chins best would be beyond even me, Annabeth.”

“That’s unkind,” Annabeth chastised, but she was laughing. Virginia Creole was a society dame of the south, renowned for her love of pastry and her cruelty to those who worked for her.

“So I have a weekend to myself, for the first time in a year, and I intend to use it.”

“What about A.J?”

“Back to back gigs,” she grimaced, thinking of her handsome rock star boyfriend with a sigh. Dating the wunderkind of the country music scene was a blast, except when it came to the long periods of time when he was on the road. She missed him like crazy.

“What’ll you do?”

Emma shrugged her slim shoulders, so that the spiky necklace she wore danced around her throat. “Maybe go away? Wouldn’t mind heading up to Nashville and having a poke around in some of the antique shops. Did I tell you that A.J’s going to be playing at the Harvest festival?”

Annabeth hid her smile. “Only about a thousand times.”

Emma, uncharacteristically, blushed. “Well, I’m excited. It’s going to be so good to show him around Clearview.”

The annual Harvest festival was one of the highlights of the calendar in Clearview. It attracted tens of thousands of country music fans, but it was an event first and foremost for the town. Some of the biggest names in the music business made a bee line for the hay bales and fields. Emma and Annabeth went every year, and this year would be particularly special. Emma was right to be glowing with pride.

Emma stayed for the rest of the afternoon. Annabeth loved the fact that her best friend worked as a freelance photographer and was successful enough not to need another job. It made her time at The Whistlestop much happier, with Emma there to chat to. Especially on that day. The first day of the rest of her life, when she’d opened the door a fraction for Kirk to be a part of her son’s life.

As she’d expected, they weren’t busy. Mondays never were. A few tourists for some chips and sodas, a couple of locals at the end of the day for a beer or whisky. Some teenagers for dinner, and that was about it.

When Kirk sauntered in, Annabeth could have sworn that everything else froze. On a sense of presentiment, she’d looked to the door a second before he’d entered. So she’d seen him push the frame inwards, his powerful stride carrying him across the threshold, as though he owned the place. He looked every bit as confident and he always had done. More so, somehow. Maybe it was the military training, he seemed to hold himself higher.

As everyone and everything else in The Whistlestop faded into the background, her eyes clung to him. He was wearing jeans again, dark denim and snug fitting, showing his muscled legs, his firm stance. His shirt was check, and tucked into his waistband, so that his narrow waist and broad shoulders were visible. The sleeves were rolled to just below the elbow, exposing his tanned forearms, and confident, capable hands. She gulped, and acknowledged to herself, finally, that she was in way over her head.

When his eyes met hers, she had the oddest sensation of being caught. Trapped in a net, or wrapped up with rope. She was so firmly held by him that she almost couldn’t breathe.

Purposefully, without releasing her eyes from his iron-like gaze, he walked towards her. By the time he reached the bar, Annabeth felt dizzy from breathlessness. “Hi,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

“Hi,” he repeated, and then, a smile began to unfurl on his face. “You look good enough to eat.”

Her cheeks went from rose pink to crimson. “Not on the menu,” she snapped tartly, earning a laugh from him.

“We’ll see.”

Out of nowhere, she remembered how she’d felt, in his arms, against the warmth of her car earlier that day. Her treacherous body went weak with longing. Yeah, it complicated the heck out of things, but she got the feeling she wouldn’t be able to keep certain things off the menu for long.

“Can you take a break?” He asked, leaning forward urgently. “I want to show you something.”

She looked around the bar, straight into Emma’s disapproving stare. “Would you mind, Em?”

“Sure, why not. Just remember what we talked about,” Emma said seriously, shooting daggers at Kirk for good measure.