Five of Hearts, page 2
“It’s not like I want to date the guy. My kids are doing just fine without a father figure.” She took a sip and let the heat from the brew slide all the way down, warming her insides. “It just gets so quiet up there. I was hoping for someone to talk to, a little adult conversation once in a while.”
“You’re welcome to bring the squirts by any time you want, you know? Once a week can’t be enough for your active bunch.”
“This is my weekly treat. It’s something to look forward to. And yes, once a week is plenty.” Shannon smiled gratefully at the woman who had come to be a very dear friend.
There was no way Shannon could have afforded classes for the triplets at Tumble Tots. But one day, during story time at the library, she’d been approached by another mother of multiples. Talia and her husband owned Tumble Tots and she’d suggested it as a great way for the triplets to get their wiggles out and for Shannon to get out of the house. Embarrassed, Shannon had explained she didn’t have the money to cover the cost of tuition. Talia had that part covered.
While the children attended the hour-long class in the play area, Shannon could help out Talia in the office. She’d do a little bookwork, some filing, envelope stuffing, anything was helpful. Some days she did help out. Most days, however, the two women holed up in the office with a pot of coffee and chatted. Talia had two-year-old twin boys. She totally understood what it was like to parent multiples. But since Shannon was getting these classes for free, she would not take advantage by bringing in her children more than the once a week they had agreed upon.
“I say give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s shy. Maybe he’s just not used to kids and doesn’t know how to act around them.”
“Yeah, he’s definitely got a story. I mean, who just up and moves to a mansion on an isolated stretch of beach in Maine? He’s young. Maybe not twenty-four, like me, but not much older. It’s like he’s hiding away.”
“And if I know you, you aren’t going to stop until you figure it out.” Talia held up a finger, checked to make sure no one was going to walk in on them, and pulled a tin of cookies out of a desk drawer. “You never saw these, okay? I promised myself I’d lose ten pounds before bikini season.”
“Cookies? What cookies?” Shannon snatched one out of the tin and grinned. “Maybe I’ll send the kids over to play in his yard and feign innocence when he happens upon them.”
“Wicked woman! You make me proud.” The two women laughed over their coffee and cookies.
• • •
Dean stood on the wide front porch of the cottage on the other side of the hedges. He couldn’t call first; he didn’t have her number. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here in the first place. He’d tried to wait until the kids were probably in bed. But did Shannon go to bed early too? Heck, if he had three little ones running ragged on him all day, he probably would.
He leaned to the side and snuck a look in the window. There was a crack where the curtains didn’t quite meet and he could see Shannon sitting in a huge, overstuffed chair. She appeared to be alone. Great. Now he was a stalker. Disgusted with himself, Dean almost turned to leave. The Tupperware container under his arm slipped and almost fell from his grasp. Blowing out a puff of air, he squeezed his shoulders together, stood up straighter, and knocked softly on the wooden door.
Footsteps scuffed louder the closer they came. The door opened a sliver and Dean could barely make out a flash of coppery hair and one narrowed blue eye. He held out the Tupperware, whether in defense or in explanation he wasn’t certain. The eye he could see through the space in the door widened and the door was opened all the way.
“Hey, I wanted to return your cookie … thing.” God, that was lame!
“No problem. You just scared me, is all. I’m not used to anyone knocking on my door at 8:30 at night. Guess I need to remember we’re not alone up here on this road anymore.”
“I didn’t wake anyone, did I?”
“No, not at all. The kids went to bed an hour ago.” She took the container from Dean but didn’t appear as though she had any intention of inviting him in. He probably deserved that.
“Okay, well, I don’t want to keep you up … ”
“Don’t be silly. It’s early.” She stole a glance behind her. “I don’t want to wake them up. Would you like to sit out here on the porch with me? It’s warm enough.” Without waiting for an answer, she snagged a long, wool cardigan off a coat tree by the door and slipped outside.
Shannon settled on the porch swing, drawing her long legs up underneath her. Though there was plenty of room left on the swing, Dean chose a wicker chair in the corner. It creaked when he sat down.
“I didn’t offer you anything to drink. I’m so sorry. What can I get you?”
“Oh, I don’t need anything. Don’t worry about it.” Dean played with his fingers in his lap. He hadn’t pictured this scene playing out quite like this. In his plan, he’d be halfway back to his own house already.
“No, really, I insist.” Shannon untangled her limbs and stepped from the swing. “I’ll be right back.”
Dean watched the moths hovering around the porch light while he waited for his new neighbor to return. They reminded him of teenaged girls, autograph books in hand, jockeying for a close enough position around their favorite idol. He jerked his gaze away from the fluttering and wiped his palms on the fabric of his jeans. Before long, his hostess returned.
“So, what do you think of Maine? It is safe to assume you aren’t from around here?” Shannon’s voice issued from somewhere behind a tray, a large carafe hiding most of her face. “You don’t have the look of a New Englander.” She set the tray down on the wicker coffee table between them and poured hot chocolate into two cups.
Not bothering to ask what a New Englander was supposed to look like, Dean chuckled. “Let me guess… surfer dude?” He smiled at her embarrassed expression. “I get that a lot. And, no, I don’t even know how to surf.” He reached for the mug painted in tiny pink flowers, figuring the “#1 Mom” cup was meant for Shannon.
He leaned back in his chair, took a big swallow, and breathed in the sweet smell of late spring. There was still a slight chill to the air after dark, but surely that wouldn’t be for much longer.
“Maine comes highly recommended. I have a laundry list of things I’m supposed to experience, according to a tutor I had years ago.” He leaned forward, his brows knitted together as he shook his head. “Maybe you can help me out with something. What is a whoopie pie? Seriously, is that even for real?”
Shannon’s laugh was so sweet, he couldn’t help but smile.
“Absolutely. Whoopie pies are for real, and you definitely need to experience one.” She licked her lips and closed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe I’ll just bake up a batch for you.”
“Cookies, cocoa, whoopie pies … you’re going to make me fat.”
“Well, the great thing about Maine is that I can show you the best places to swim, awesome hiking trails, and beautiful, scenic bike rides.”
She looked so excited at the prospect that warning bells were starting to go off in Dean’s brain. Oh, why did she have to be so damned adorable? She had her knees drawn up close and her cocoa resting on top of them. She wiggled her fuzzy purple slipper-clad toes on the edge of her seat.
He wondered, yet again, if there was any way she had recognized him as the front man for Five of Hearts and was somehow keeping the knowledge to herself. To what end? Dean hated to admit that he just couldn’t figure this woman out. He must have waited too long to say something because she was watching him closely, a sad smile on her face.
“You didn’t come to Maine for whoopie pies. You came here to be alone.” It wasn’t a question, and from the look on her face, she didn’t expect to be told any differently.
“It’s nothing personal.” God, did that come out as lame as he thought it had? Dean chanced a quick look at Shannon and she was still watching him, that sad little smile threatening to put a chink in the fortress he’d spent years building up.
“I just wanted a chance at a new life, a new beginning. My life before … it was crazy. It wasn’t me, wasn’t what I wanted. They wouldn’t leave me alone.” Too much! He’d said too much! Dean looked up sharply, wanting desperately to get inside Shannon’s head and find out what she knew.
“You want to go it alone. Dean, look at me. If anyone gets your situation it’s me.”
“Well, that’s part of it, yeah.” He set his mug down on the tray, his eyes straying to the porch steps. An overpowering urge to escape had him drumming his fingertips restlessly on his knees.
“You also want to be alone. You bought that isolated house surrounded by nothing but summer homes, so you could hide away.”
Again, she’d nailed it.
“All right, Doctor Shannon, what am I hiding from?” Dean’s snarky remark was meant as a warning to back off. The truth hurt and he was scared of what her answer would be.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He hadn’t been expecting that.
“It’s none of my business and I feel awful for making you uncomfortable.”
Now it was his turn to feel like a heel. Dean shook his head.
“No, you didn’t … it’s just … ” Suddenly, he was at a complete loss for words.
“Hey, I’m a big girl. It’s fine.” Shannon stood up and began to clear away their evening snack. “You go on back to your new house, your new life.”
“I … thank you for the hot chocolate. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“That’s what neighbors do for each other, Dean. They welcome new folks into their lives as friends.” She lifted the tray and set it on her hip in order to open the front door.
“You’re my new friend, Dean. Like it or not. I’ll respect your need for privacy if that is what you really want … for now. But you’ve got to come out of your shell sooner or later. I can’t wait to get to know you when you’re ready.”
And with that Shannon gently shut the door behind her. Dean was left standing on the porch more unsure and confused than he’d been when he had first stepped up here to drop off a cookie container. Dear God, that woman was a force to be reckoned with. He headed back to his own house. The idea of having privacy suddenly seemed bleak, not as satisfying as he’d imagined.
Heading up his own driveway, Dean frowned at the dark, unwelcoming windows. He remembered watching Shannon, curled up in a chair in her living room. The lamp light was cozy. She’d looked so comfortable. He knew the kids were snug in their beds. Now, that was a home.
No. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted peace, quiet, days on end going by when he didn’t see or hear from anyone. That was what he wanted. Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER THREE
It had been raining for four days straight and Shannon was going out of her mind. She hadn’t seen her new neighbor since he’d shown up on her porch five nights ago. She’d promised to give him the privacy he craved and she would keep that promise. Her two little boys streaked by, hollering as they ran. Shannon raised her eyes to the ceiling, choosing not to ask why they were not wearing a stitch of clothing.
“Mommy, Rosie is playing hide and seek and I can’t find her. Can you tell her it’s time to come out now? I think maybe she wants a snack.” Brenna, no doubt feeling outnumbered by her brothers, had recently invented an imaginary friend.
“It’s nearly lunchtime, Bren. Rosie will come out when she gets tired of hiding.” Shannon plucked a tee shirt off the coffee table and a small pair of jeans off the arm of the couch.
Brenna sighed dramatically and raced off to her next adventure. Shannon snatched a pair of Superman underwear from the top of the television, carrying her growing pile of discarded clothing with her as she went. She was just passing the front door when a knock nearly made her drop everything. She took a calming breath and answered the door. The sight of Dean on her front porch made her heart beat just a bit faster. Too late, she wished she’d ditched the pile of laundry in her arms so she could pat down her messy hair.
“Well, hello there, neighbor. What brings you out on this miserable day?”
“Does it rain like this often? I feel like I’m in Seattle,” Dean groused, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Aw … not used to the wet stuff, huh? Wait until the snow is so high you can’t even make it over here, unless you have snowshoes.” Shannon chuckled at the look of horror on Dean’s face. She held the door wide and announced, “Come on in, take off your clothes and join the party!”
Dean had been stepping over the threshold when she said this and he stopped and looked down at her. Her face heated, partly from embarrassment and partly from the intense way he was looking at her. It was like he already knew what she’d look like without her clothes … and he liked what he saw.
“Sorry, that came out all wrong. The boys have decided to boycott clothing today. I’m not sure what the game is.” Shannon put as much distance between them as possible, ignoring the way certain parts of her body felt as though they were waking up from a long sleep.
“Sounds fun.” His voice was a sexy purr.
“Come on into the kitchen.” She fought the urge to fan herself with her hand. “I’d love a little non-pre-K conversation.”
Shannon headed across the hall and tried not to picture Dean checking out her butt as he followed behind. Geez! Head out of the gutter, Fitzgerald! Of course he’s not checking out your butt. She chanced a peek over her shoulder to reassure herself. He was! She almost stumbled over her own feet.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Dean pulled out a chair at the dining room table in the breakfast nook and prepared to sit down.
“No! Mr. Dean, stop!” Brenna ran up to him, shaking her head, her eyes as wide as saucers. “You almost sat on Rosie.” She pulled out a different chair and motioned for him to sit in that one instead.
Shannon stifled a grin, first at the apologetic look on Dean’s face and then as that look turned to confusion. He shook his head as he studied the chair he nearly sat in. He glanced from the chair to the little girl and back again.
“I think Rosie must have jumped out when she saw me coming.”
“She’s still there. You scared her.” Rust red pigtails swung jauntily as the five-year-old jutted out her chin and put her hands on her hips.
Uh oh! Shannon knew that stance. Her bored little girl was looking for an argument. For a split second she considered waiting it out, seeing how Dean would handle himself in an argument to prove the existence of an imaginary person. Nah. She was bored, too, and if she let Brenna spout off, Dean would probably go running back to his self-imposed isolation.
“Hey, baby, why don’t you go round up your brothers and tell them we’re doing something special for lunch.” Shannon dropped a kiss on her daughter’s head as she skipped toward the doorway. “And make sure they are at least wearing underwear!”
“This is a bad time. I didn’t mean to barge in when you were fixing lunch.” Dean’s gaze went past Shannon, scanning the kitchen counter. Perhaps looking for a hint as to what was to be served?
“Yes. Yes, you did. And I’m glad you came.” Shannon wasn’t trying to tease. She really was happy he’d stopped by … no matter the reason.
Dean’s attention had returned to the wooden chair he had almost sat in. He scratched his head, opened his mouth like he was going to speak, and then shut it again. Shannon checked to make sure Brenna was off on her chore and then strode to the supposedly occupied chair and planted herself in it. She kept all traces of humor from her face while she looked up at Dean.
“I’m really missing something here, aren’t I?” Dean wrinkled up his nose. “She doesn’t have a pet bug or something, does she?”
Now she could no longer hold it in. Shannon burst out laughing.
“No, silly.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Rosie is her imaginary friend.” She lowered her voice. “She’s new around here. We’re all still getting used to her.”
Impulsively, she reached out and patted Dean’s hand. He didn’t snatch it away, though she wondered how much willpower it took for him to remain still. Their eyes met and just as quickly they both chose something different to focus their attention on. Shannon cleared her throat and got up from the table.
“It’s been a miserable few days, huh?” She busied herself getting lunch fixings out of the fridge.
“Yeah, miserable.” Dean’s voice was gruff. Was he talking about the weather, like she had been, or something else?
“I thought we could have a picnic … on the living room floor. What do you think?”
“Eat on the floor?”
“No, we’ll eat on our picnic blanket. We’re missing out on some prime picnic weather with the rain as steady as it’s been.”
“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on a picnic.” He appeared deep in thought. “And I don’t think I have ever had an indoor picnic before.”
“Aren’t you glad you came over, then?”
• • •
Dean’s idea had been successful … just not in the way he had figured. He sat awkwardly, a paper plate perched precariously on his crossed legs. On either side of him sat a carrot topped little boy. One wore only underwear and a superhero cape. The other wore swim trunks and a cowboy vest. Had he dressed so foolishly when he was that age? Doubtful.
Shannon leaned over and spooned more potato salad onto his plate. Dean looked down in surprise.
“Omigosh, I’m so sorry. I’d probably be in your face, cutting your meat if we were eating dinner at the table. Guess I’m in mommy-mode 24/7.” She scooted back over to her corner of the picnic blanket and began to nibble on a carrot stick. Dean liked how her cheeks bloomed bright pink and how the blush crept down her neck.
“It’s fine. I was just going to ask for seconds anyway.”
“Mr. Dean, do you have any kids?” One of the boys, he couldn’t remember who was who, placed a sticky palm on Dean’s khakis and cocked his head to the side, waiting for an answer.
