He'd shaved and showered-that much was obvious-was dressed in faded khaki shorts, an old Rolling Stones T-shirt, and flip flops. A Yankee ball cap kept half of his face hidden, but the generous mouth and masculine jaw was unmistakable. His height, broad shoulders, and tattoos gave him an air of danger so she got the girls interest.
But she didn't care about any of that. All she cared about was …
The little dark-haired girl who was talking animatedly and staring up at him with a look Sabrina knew all to well. Her daughter was on a mission and what that mission happened to be, Sabrina had no idea. But Morgan was in the thick of it.
Her daughter's hands were on her hips and her little mouth moved a mile a minute. Any other time, Sabrina would have taken a second to enjoy the spunkiness of her mini-me. But right now, the panic of nearly losing her was all too real and she moved forward, a heavy frown in place when she brought her cart to a halt.
"Morgan Anderson Campbell," she said, the words strangled a bit because she could barely catch her breath. "How many times have I warned you never to wander away? Jesus." Sabrina ran her hands across her forehead. "You had me scared silly."
Morgan's eyes widened, immediately filling with tears. "Mommy, I'm sorry. I was following Tigger and-"
"Tigger?" Sabrina asked.
Morgan nodded and pointed at Teague. "I wanted to say sorry for sneaking up on him in his underwear."
"She's pretty adamant about wanting to let me know how sorry she is."
Teague's deep, raspy voice caught her attention and she glanced up at him, a frown still firmly in place. His eyes were in shadow and she couldn't get a read on him, but his body language was much more relaxed than it had been this morning.
"I'm sorry she bothered you again," Sabrina said, motioning toward Morgan. "We're done and we need to go so that I can get some dinner into you."
"Burger Mania," Harry shouted.
"But Mommy, I was just telling Tigger-"
For the love of Pete. Sabrina took a minute to calm herself. "His name is Teague."
Morgan's eyebrows furrowed and she turned back to the man in question. "But he said that I could call him Tigger. Like from Winnie the Pooh. It's going to be his nickname and he tolded me that he doesn't mind."
"Morgan," Sabrina bit out, but her daughter's attention was on Teague.
"My great-granny says that nicknames are special. She likes hers. We call her Ninny. But I think it's because she hates her real name."
"And what's that?" Teague asked, eyes on Morgan.
Morgan scrunched up her nose and giggled. "Enid."
"Huh," Teague replied, a small smile on his face as he tossed a bunch of bananas into his cart. "I guess that makes sense."
He turned his attention back to Sabrina, pushing the brim of his hat up a bit. For one second their eyes met, and something strange happened. She became hyper aware as if all of her senses suddenly were on full alert. She felt the cool air circulating from the vents above her. Heard the old man rummaging through the vegetable bins. And those eyes of Teague's were relentless. It felt as if he could see right through her and the sensation was disturbing.
Harry might have pulled on her arm. Morgan might have jumped up and down. Or maybe nothing happened at all because in that moment, a rush of something rolled through Sabrina. Whatever it was made her heart speed up. Her breathing quickened. Her stomach rolled painfully.
And she was hot.
Confused she glanced away, exhaling and trying to get her wits together. This day had been too long. She needed it to be over.
"Your daughter was just telling me that I should eat a banana every day."
"Did she," Sabrina managed to say, eyes on Morgan.
"I did Mommy. I told him that if he ate bananas and blueberries, he wouldn't get the cancer because they're good for you. Right Mommy?"
And there it was. The thing that she could never get away from. The ‘C' word. Sabrina's heart twisted. Her children had heard and seen so much in their short lives. Things they could never un-see or un-hear.
Their father weak from chemo and struggling just to walk. Or puking in a bowl while they watched television.
An awkward silence fell between them and then Harry yanked on Morgan's arm. "Come on! Mommy's taking us to Burger Mania and then she said we could watch a movie before bed. Like the whole movie until the end and everything."
Morgan skipped toward Sabrina, the sweetest smile on her face when she looked over her shoulder at the man who stood watching them in silence.
"Goodbye Tigger," she squealed, running after her brother.
Sabrina cleared her throat and turned the cart to follow her kids up to the cashier. "I'm sorry, she's full of beans."
His eyes were dark and direct and the gold flecks made them luminous. She saw something in them. Something she recognized and she swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. She was filled with the urge to run which was ridiculous. Sabrina was an adult. But Teague Simon was much too intense and she was way too tired to deal with him.
"I was an asshole this morning."
Sabrina took a moment. In fact she took a couple before smoothing the front of her T-shirt and clearing her throat. She didn't look up because she couldn't. Because she didn't want to.
"Yeah. You were." She said no more because she had nothing else, and headed to the front of the store with her kids.
Hours later, she stood alone in the dark, eyes on the water. It was quiet with only a few stars to light the night sky, and she shivered, cold from the damp. She couldn't shake the heaviness inside her, and damn, but it weighed a lot. It wrapped around her shoulders and settled in like an old friend.
It made her so weary; so tired of everything. And sometimes it made her tired of life. If it wasn't for her kids …
Sabrina gave herself a mental shake and pushed back from the railing that ran the length of her deck. She couldn't go down that road again. Not now. She knew that if she did, she would lose herself. Hell, she'd barely made it back the last time.
Instead she turned, but paused, catching the scent of tobacco-a cigar if she wasn't mistaken. Eyes on the Simon cottage, she spied the soft glow from the tip of a cigar and the silhouette of a man.
She watched him draw from the cigar once more as he too faced the darkness and the lake, blowing lazy circles of smoke into the air. In the distance an owl hooted, it's eerie cry echoing across the water.
Teague turned and Sabrina's heart nearly beat out of her chest. She stepped back, grateful for the darkness that fell across her deck. For several moments, he stared up at her place and then with another draw on his cigar, he disappeared from sight.
Blowing out a long breath, Sabrina made her way back inside her quiet summer home. She blew out the honeysuckle candle in the kitchen and locked the doors. She checked on her sleeping children, kissing two foreheads and rumpling two heads of hair. She left their nightlight on and bypassed her bedroom without a thought. She hadn't been able to sleep in that particular room since, well, not since Brent.
Sabrina eyed the open bottle of Malbec on the counter, but with a sigh, corked the wine and slid onto the sofa. She grabbed the old, worn, plaid throw that laid across the back and wrapped it around her shoulders. She held it against her face, nuzzling the edge, inhaling deeply, and then closed her eyes.
She liked to think that she could still smell Brent, but in truth, his scent was long gone. She liked to imagine that the thought of him wrapped in this blanket gave her comfort. That the memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, could lift her spirit. It used to.
But on this night there was nothing but that heavy weight. Nothing but that silence and the darkness pressing in. There was nothing but the loneliness.
Sabrina turned into the sofa and curled into a ball. She bit her lip, hating the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes, and prayed that sleep would come soon. But as it had for most nights over the last year, she stared into the dark and prayed for hours.
When she finally fell asleep, her tear-stained cheeks stung and the sound of birds greeting the dawn was the last thing she heard.
Chapter Three
The damn morning dove woke him again. Its soft coo echoed inside his bedroom from the open window and Teague knew the bird was just getting started.
"I'm going to shoot that thing," he muttered.
He flung back his covers and slid out of bed. It was still dark but a hint of light rode the horizon over the lake and he padded forward, rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the tight muscles.
His sheets were a tangled mess but he didn't give a shit. There was no one here to impress and even if there were, it wouldn't matter. By his count he'd gotten maybe three hours of shut-eye. The dreams, or rather nightmares, that had haunted him for months had come back with a vengeance.
Guess the damn sleeping pills weren't working. He glanced over to his bed and spied an empty bottle on the floor.
Neither was the whiskey.
The morning dove sounded again and he squinted into the early morning gloom, catching sight of the bird perched on top of the boathouse. He stared at it for several moments and then it flapped its wings and took off for parts unknown.