My Texas Heart: The Texas Kincaids #3

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

He’s quiet, shy, and a motorcycle-riding nerd. She’s vivacious, gorgeous, and ambitious. Would a woman like that give him a second glance?

Divorced from a woman who put career ahead of everything – including their young son – single dad, Josh Kincaid, isn’t about to make that mistake again. His son is his life. But his charming co-worker makes him dream that there might be more. Then his ex-wife turns his world upside down and dreams turn to dust.

Feisty and driven, Fiona Reilly has plans. She left home to follow her dreams to make something of herself – something more than a wife and mother to a houseful of children. Nothing wrong with that life but it’s not for her. Then Josh and his adorable son capture her heart forcing her to choose between dreams and a home she didn’t know she wanted.

A story about compromise, trust, and making room in your dreams for the unexpected.

Settle in with this third book in the Texas Kincaids series. If you like stories filled with heart, heat, and emotional impact, then you will fall in love with these books!

Buy My Texas Heart today. Phelps sets about appealing to that which makes us human and she doesn’t miss her mark!

Release date: May 4, 2018

Publisher: Self Published

Print pages: 207

Content advisory: Steamy

Sample

Chapter One

Josh Kincaid’s cell phone hit the office wall with a crack, shattered the screen protector, and dropped to the floor with a thunk.

He froze. His heart stopped. His breath caught in his lungs. People were looking at him. No way to pretend it didn’t happen. No way to be his usual invisible self.

Shit.

His teeth clenched so tightly he thought for sure a trip to the dentist was in his future. The nerve of his ex-wife, trying to make him out to be the bad guy. He wasn’t the one who’d cheated. Now she wanted to haul him into court and make him fight for shared custody of their son. It had been almost a year and he couldn’t wait for their divorce to be finalized. He felt eyes boring into him and a trickle of sweat eased down his back. Move, his brain commanded.

A voice followed by a robust laugh broke through the wall of silence that had descended on the room. His savior, Fiona Reilly. Loud. Gregarious. Compelling. All eyes shifted from him to the cause of the disturbance as papers fluttered to the floor. “Well, would you look at that? Clumsy me.” The ginger-haired beauty grinned at the assembled males gathering at her feet battling to see who could claim the biggest share of the massive file she’d dropped.

Josh blinked. Had she done it on purpose? She always seemed to be there when someone needed help getting out of a tight spot. He quietly slipped into his cubicle and lowered himself to his chair but peered over the partition to watch.

“Here you go, Fiona.” One of the men who had scrambled to win her favor presented her with a stack of paper from bended knee. “You let me know if you need any help reassembling all of this. Maybe we could work on it over a drink after work?” The other men glared at the interloper as they each handed over what they had collected.

“You boys are so sweet.” She put a hand over her heart, gratitude stealing over her freckled face. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to pass on the help.” She put her hand beside her mouth in a stage whisper. “The boss says this paperwork is top secret.” She smiled and edged her way out of the crowd.

“Oh, come on Fiona, have a heart. Pick one of us to take you out,” someone called to her retreating back.

Josh’s blood boiled at the way these office gorillas treated the lovely Fiona. What made them think they had the right to hassle her? From his observations—and he’d been watching her for a while—she was a decent, hard-working woman. Maybe it was her WWII pin-up girl looks and friendly nature that made them think they could grab what they wanted. A part of him wanted to rush over and pound them into bloody stumps. The other part—the part that usually won his internal argument—turned to stone at the thought of a confrontation. Confrontation meant putting himself on display.

Fiona kept walking toward her desk located outside the Division Chief’s office. She’d have to pass Josh’s cubicle to get there. He swallowed hard and directed his eyes at the computer code filling his monitor as she got close. Head down, he tracked her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t want her to catch him watching, even though he’d caught her studying him, curiosity and interest in her warm hazel eyes.

Just as she reached his cubicle, she disappeared from sight. Josh was tempted to rise and look over the partition to see what had happened. Luckily his brain wasn’t performing at its usual warp speed, so he was saved the embarrassment of bumping heads with her when she reappeared, balancing his phone in her outstretched hand.

“Sounds like you’re having a bad day.” Her infectious smile pushed every one of his shy buttons, but also caused something that felt like hot fudge to flow inside him. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. “It doesn’t look like a complete loss. The case and screen shield seem to have taken the brunt,” she said waggling the device in front of him. “I should know. I’ve managed to wreak havoc on more than one of these gadgets.”

He dropped his eyes and reached for the device. “Thanks.” His voice sounded like he’d had Novocain injected into his tongue.

Their hands brushed and a jolt of electricity shot up his arm. His head jerked and he found himself staring into an amused pair of hazel eyes dotted with flecks of green. So much for being able to pull off suave in front of a beautiful woman—or anyone else for that matter.

“While I don’t ever plan to give those hooligans,” she inclined her head toward the group she’d just left, “the time of day, I’d be willing to lift a pint with you. Any plans after work?”

“N…n…no.” Damn stutter. The condition had plagued him since childhood. Speech therapy had helped control it, but the condition still reared its ugly head when he felt stressed. He closed his eyes and his schedule scrolled like a headline banner through his mind. Today was Cindy’s turn to pick their son up from daycare. “None.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, you’d like to go out for a drink?” Her eyebrows rose in question.

He nodded, afraid he’d continue to embarrass himself if he said anything.

“Do you have a favorite place around here?”

He shook his head. “Nope.” Why couldn’t he get his foot out of his mouth long enough to say something witty, or at least something longer than one syllable?

She put a hand on his shoulder, the weight of it reassuring. The breath he’d been holding whooshed out.

“How about Black Beards Tavern down the street? They’ve got a great happy hour spread. Can you get away by five?”

He nodded again then cleared his throat. “Should we meet in the lobby and walk over?” He looked down at his phone and spun it on the desk.

“Walking’s nice. I like getting out in the fresh air after being cooped up all day, but let’s meet outside. I don’t want these guys to know I’d go out with a male co-worker.”

“That makes sense. I’ll meet you by the side of the building.” A jolt of satisfaction bloomed in his chest. He’d gotten out two sentences.

She grinned and leveraged away from his cubicle. He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she made her way down the aisle. Opening his desk drawer, he rummaged around for a replacement screen protector for his phone. He needed to remove the broken one and make sure his phone still worked. If a call came in from daycare about Chad, it wouldn’t look very responsible to miss it.

He carefully removed the broken glass with a pair of tweezers and was relieved to see the screen below wasn’t damaged. Clicking over to his calendar, he double-checked the day of the week. He was in the clear.

A few minutes later Dave Rush stepped into Josh’s cubicle “You finally talked to her.” Josh could hear the excitement in his friend’s voice. “Bout time you worked up the nerve.” Resting one hand on the back of the chair and the other on the desk, it looked like they were discussing some computer code on the monitor. “So what did she say?”

Josh grunted and wished he’d been the one to approach her instead of the other way around. “Just because we’re friends, doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and gossip with you like we’re a couple of old ladies.” Though he understood his pal’s curiosity. Nerds stuck together and cheered even the smallest of social successes.   

“You know you’re going to tell me. You’ve had your eye on her since she started working here.” Dave pointed at the screen like they were deep in conversation.

“Look who’s talking. You’re as bad as I am. We’re a sorry pair.” Josh scooted his chair back and twirled to face Dave. “We’re going out for drinks tonight.”

“Way to go.” Dave clapped Josh on the back and strolled back to his own cubicle.

****

A happy tickle wiggled its way from Fiona’s stomach to her lips lifting them in satisfied grin. An opportunity to meet the quiet, solitary—but oh, so sexy—Josh Kincaid had finally presented itself and she wasn’t about to let the chance slip through her fingers. She felt like doing a quick Irish Jig but squelched the impulse. She didn’t want to look like an airhead.

When she’d been hired at JSM Cyber Security a few months ago, she’d been drawn to him immediately. A good deal taller than her, dark hair, eyes the color of warm cognac, and a lithe athletic build—what’s not to like? But it wasn’t just his looks. She’d also seen his quick intelligence, his willingness to help one of his fellow programmers negotiate a piece of tricky code, and flashes of longing as he watched the comraderie of his coworkers. That hint of vulnerability probably attracted her the most.

Office scuttlebutt said he was in the middle of an unpleasant divorce from Cindy over in the executive suite. The woman was good-looking in an exotic way with her long, dark hair, deep brown eyes eyes, and olive skin but was best known for her aloofness. Fiona would be willing to bet Josh’s outburst had something to do with her. In the short time she’d been with the firm she’d hardly heard him speak and had never seen him strike out in anger. He usually stood out about as much as an office plant. Give him a little light and water and leave him alone to do his thing.

As soon as his phone hit the wall, she’d reacted. She had to do something to pull attention away from him. Mortification and horror had been written all over his face. The file she’d been carrying literally leapt out of her hands. Problem solved, except that now she had to put the darn thing back together.

Finally back at her desk, she sighed and lowered herself into her chair. Sticking out her tongue at the paperwork, she set about putting the file back in order. Her boss was waiting, and she hoped he’d finally make good on his promise to recommend her for the opening in the marketing department. Not that she was going to hold her breath—he’d dangled carrots in front of her before—but she had plans for her future. Plans that didn’t include staying a secretary forever.

Tapping lightly on her boss’ office door, Fiona entered at his muffled, “Come in.”

“Morning, Harry. Here’s the performance report you asked for.” She extended the file to him hoping he would take it, but instead he rose and came around the desk. He placed one hand on her arm and the other at the small of her back, urging her to sit. She kept her poker face on and tried not to let her inward cringe show. The man made her uncomfortable. He was patronizing and misogynistic.

She sat and pushed his hand away when it brushed her leg where her skirt had ridden up. “It looks like the beta-testing on the new malware is going well,” she said. “The client survey came back with a ninety-two percent approval on the feature that lets them filter by industry and company size when choosing the product best suited for their needs. I put some numbers together for you if you’d like to look at them.” She doubted he’d remember she was the one that pushed for that option, but she figured it didn’t hurt to throw it out there.

“Thanks Fiona. I’ll have my analytic team look it over.” He tossed the report on his desk. “You’re looking mighty fine. Have you done something different with your hair?” He extended his hand to touch her, but she leaned out of reach. His gaze traveled from her trim ankles to the hem of her skirt. “We could go out for a drink after work and go over those numbers.”

“Sorry, Mr. Swanson, I already have plans after work.” She smiled and cleared her throat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Have you heard anything from the Marketing Department about their opening in the graphic design group?”

“No, not yet. What’s the matter? Don’t you like working for me?”

His smile made her want to rub her arms to cleanse the slime left by his amphibian eyes. “Of course I like working for you. I’ve learned a lot being your admin but doing graphic design and marketing has been my dream. That’s what I got my degree in and I graduated with high honors.”

“I’m sure you worked hard for your online degree, but just remember, you’re competing with people who graduated from well-respected universities. Does a girl like you really want to be tossed in with the wolves?” He leaned over and patted her shoulder. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep pushing for you.” He rubbed his chin. “It might help if we could get you in front of division managers and make a presentation. I could help with that. My drink offer still stands.”

Her mouth felt like it was going to crack under the pretense of the smile she forced to her lips. “I’m going to have to ask for a rain check. If you don’t have anything else for me, I’ve got a ton of work on my desk.” She wanted to put a hand to her stomach where it felt like a pack of hyenas were circling and snapping. She was more than a kid from South Boston. She had talent and drive. She’d prove him wrong. She’d prove them all wrong. She’d be damned if she’d head home to marry some local boy who would expect her to cater to him while he controlled the purse strings. She’d seen where that left women after a divorce—kids to support and no marketable skills. That would never be her.

Harry moved back to his chair and waved his hand in dismissal.

She managed to close the door without slamming it. Jeez, hadn’t the man ever heard of sexual harassment? He was bound to get himself into trouble one of these days. Right now, she couldn’t make waves. Her job was too important. She needed every penny if she was going to get her fledgling marketing business off the ground. One of these days it would happen, and she’d be her own boss but for now she’d settle for working in her area of expertise.

Opening her desk drawer, she plucked out her iPod and inserted the ear buds. The place was like a library—when people spoke, it was in hushed tones so they didn’t disturb their neighbors. Probably why Josh’s rare display of temper lit up the place like a spotlight.

Buckling down to the task, she grinned. At least she had a date with sexy computer programmer to look forward to.

 

Chapter Two

Josh paced by the side of the building. Maybe walking wasn’t such a good idea. While Austin, Texas wasn’t cold in January, there was still a decided chill in the air once the sun went down. Maybe he should have suggested they drive, but he’d ridden his motorcycle today. As much as he might enjoy the view of creamy thigh, asking her to hop on the back of his bike wouldn’t be very polite. A grin spread across his face. She’d probably do it, though.

He shifted his helmet from one hand to the other and shuffled his feet. Should he go to his motorcycle and lock his helmet in his bike’s saddlebag? He hadn’t meant to bring it inside this morning, but his mind had been focused on a problem he’d found with a piece of code and he’d forgotten it was on his head. What if she came out while he was away? Would she think he’d blown her off? No, he better wait. He was having trouble swallowing past the lump in his throat. The indecision was killing him. He preferred problems he could solve with logic.

Another reason to stay away from social situations. Not much logic there. Give him a computer and some code and he could dash into the breach with the best of them—better than most, actually. Stick him with people he didn’t know well and he was a disaster.

He ran a hand through his hair trying to decide what to do. He needed to come up with some conversation starters. But what? She had an accent. He’d heard she’d been working on her degree. The weather was safe. Asking about family usually worked. It had been his habit to let the woman take the lead, but with Fiona, he didn’t want to be an idle bystander.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement and shifted his focus to the door. Fiona waved and grinned, her mouth wide and sassy. Even from here she sparkled. He’d be happy with the amount of charisma she had in her little finger. She strode toward him in those impossibly high heels, exchanging waves and greetings with at least half the people exiting the building before she veered off and headed his direction.

“Sorry I’m late.” She stopped in front of him and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

Just like that, easy and natural. Nothing overtly sexual, but his pulse rate zoomed. Made him wonder how he’d react to lips meeting lips.

“Harry corralled me at the last minute asking for a file. I think he was still hoping I’d change my mind and join him for a drink.” She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and twined her arm through his.

“I thought he was married.” Josh liked the feel of her body next to his. Resisting the urge to snug her tighter to his body, he placed his hand over hers. How would she react if he gave in to his impulse to reach over and adjust the wool scarf higher on her neck?

“He is, but that doesn’t mean much to a lot of men.” She squeezed his arm. “Don’t look so shocked. Women have to fend guys like him off all the time. Shouldn’t have to…” She lifted one shoulder and looked resigned.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with stuff like that,” he said taking note of the fire in her eyes that said she’d really like to kick the guy in the nuts.

“Some things you have to let roll off your back and keep moving forward.”

“Have you ever thought about reporting him? Doesn’t that fall into sexual harassment territory?” His body gave a quick, involuntary start. He was talking to her like he’d known her for years.  

“Not really. With me being a fairly new hire and easy to replace, I don’t have to guess who’d win that battle. It’s easier to simply avoid being alone with him as much as possible.” She looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face. “Where are we going?”

He lifted his helmet. “I need to stow this.”

“You ride a motorcycle? That’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to ride one.” She skipped beside him.

Unlocking the roomy saddlebag, he placed his helmet inside, and glanced over his shoulder at her. “I’ll have to take you for a ride. What are you doing Sunday?” A stab of dread crashed into his midsection. Had he just asked her out?

He watched her lips crease in a frown. Maybe he’d misread her interest. Was he moving too fast? Her face cleared, and her smile felt like a rainbow after a storm. “Nothing that can’t be interrupted. What did you have in mind?”

Swallowing hard, he shoved out the words before he thought better of it. “I have Sunday dinner at my folk’s ranch and it’s a nice ride from here to there. The weather’s supposed to hold so we should be okay.”

“I’d love to. I’ve never been on a real Texas ranch before.” She squeezed his arm. “What do I wear? Do I need to get biker boots or a leather jacket?” Glancing at her foot, she swiveled it back and forth. “Yeah, I’d look good in boots and leather.” When she looked back up at him, her grin was pure sass.

Josh didn’t laugh a lot, but he couldn’t help himself around Fiona. “Yes, you would, but jeans, a warm jacket, and scarf will be fine. Though you might want to bring an extra pair of jeans to change into in case we hit mud.” He captured her hand in his and they set off for the bar.

Time to set his conversation plan in motion. “You talk kind of fast. Not like anyone else around here. I gather Texas isn’t your home?”

“It is now, but I grew up in South Boston.” He watched her mouth fold into a self-deprecating grimace. “I’m taking diction lessons so I sound more…” She paused, her forehead wrinkling. “I want to sound more regional neutral, more professional.” Her face cleared and a smile broke out. “I want to be the after in My Fair Lady.”

“I don’t know why you want to change. You sound great. I just meant I wouldn’t have time to swallow a bite of my hamburger before you got to the end of your sentence.”

She laughed, and the animated tones teased his ears sending swirls of pleasure down his spine. The spicy scent of her perfume did the same thing to his nose. He was having a difficult time concentrating on what he was saying.

“I do have to curb the impulse to make hurry up motions when I’m talking to folks from around here. My goal, though, is to sound more like you than where I’m from.”

“You don’t like where you’re from?”

She captured her bottom lip between her teeth and walked several steps before answering. “Yes and no. The people are great, but I want more for myself than my hometown people expect of me.”

Josh opened the door to the bar. They’d arrived at the beginning of happy hour, so they had their choice of tables. It was one of the quirkier Austin establishments. It had the standard low lighting of bars everywhere, but that’s where typical ended. The bar was polished wood shaped to resemble a ship’s bow. Bottles of rum crowded the thick wooden shelves, backlit so the amber liquid sparkled. A few patrons were already bellied up to the bar watching a basketball game on the big screen television. Pewter mugs and lanterns hung from overhead beams. Pirate flags, rope climbing nets, and other paraphernalia set the tone.

Guiding her to the tall, barrel tables at the far end of the room, Josh selected one in the corner, hoping it would be quiet enough so they could get to know each other.

“Hi, I’m Mandy. I’m your crew for this evening. What can I get you to drink?”

“I’d like aged rum,” Josh said. He nodded at Fiona.

“I’d like the light rum, please.”

“We’d also like number four from the happy hour menu.” Josh handed the laminated sheet to the waitress and caught Fiona’s narrowed eyes. He held up his finger for the waitress to wait. “Did you want to order something different?”

“Could you add a number three to our order?” she asked.

Josh nodded and Fiona’s face cleared.

“I’ll be back in a jiff.” The young woman tucked her pen and order pad in her pocket and hurried away.

“Did I just commit a dating faux pas?” He’d scanned a couple of men’s dating advice websites during lunch and read that women liked take-charge men.

“Not really. I like that you know what you want. I just prefer to add something I know I like and number three has nachos. I’m fine with the tacos and steamed mussels from number four, but I’m not crazy about raw oysters.”

“You’re from Boston and you don’t like raw oysters?” Josh sat back and chuckled. “I don’t believe it. I though you guys were weaned on raw oysters.”

She crossed her arms and frowned. “Not everyone from Boston likes oysters. The texture.” She wrinkled her nose and a shudder rocked her shoulders.

He held up his hands in surrender. “No problem. I’ll eat the oysters.”

“Then you’re forgiven.” She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward, her eyes filled with concern. “That must have been some call this morning. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say boo, let alone lose your temper like that.”

He’d hoped she wouldn’t go there. The waitress slid their drinks in front of them. Josh took a hefty sip. Warmth trickled down his throat and landed with a thunk in is stomach. Good rum was for sipping not chugging. He set the glass on the table and cupped it with his hands. He had no idea how much he was expected to share on a first date.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the office gossip. My soon-to-be ex-wife wants to remarry a Silicon Valley CEO and move to California. If she didn’t want to take our son with her, I’d say good riddance.” He sipped this time letting the smoky flavor sit on his tongue before swallowing. “I insisted on joint custody during the temporary order, so now she has to get the court’s permission to take Chad with her. We’d still share custody, but she’d have possession.”

“Do you really think she has a chance?” Her hand over his warmed him more than the rum.

“I’m not very good at public speaking, and if I don’t come off well, she might win. I don’t know what I’d do if she’s allowed to take Chad from me.”

Conversation stilled when the waitress returned with their appetizers. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said before heading off to greet a group that had just been seated.

“Her fiancé has mega bucks and has hired a hotshot team of attorneys. I don’t have that kind of money. I heard from the daycare that they’ve been asked about me.” With elbows propped on the table, his eyes cast downward, humiliation swept through him like a tidal wave, knocking him flat. “It looks like they’re going to challenge my fitness to parent Chad.” He plucked a chip laden with beans and cheese from the nacho plate and shoved the gooey mess in his mouth. He wasn’t sure he could swallow it, but it gave his hands something to do. So far, only his immediate family and Dave knew this, but it was so easy to talk to Fiona.

“Oh, Josh. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine talking to people I know, but put me in front of strangers and the words get stuck. I stuttered as a child.” He looked over her head, not wanting to see the look of pity he expected. “Our final court date is next Wednesday, and the judge will make his decision. If I don’t make a good impression, she may get to take Chad.”

Fiona put a finger under his chin, urging him to look at her. His chest tightened but he gazed into her eyes. No pity, just fight and spirit. “I’m pretty good at public speaking. I’d be happy to help you prepare.”

He wasn’t sure anything would help, but his attorney had jotted down some facts Josh needed to have on hand. If he practiced, maybe he could actually say what needed to be said when the time came. Decision made, the heaviness in his chest whooshed out on a breath. “I’d like that.”

“How about Friday? Dinner at my place?” She speared a mussel with her fork, swirled it in the garlic butter, and popped it in her mouth. A jolt of anticipation hammered his chest as her lips surrounded the tender morsel and her eyes closed in pleasure. “I love garlic butter.”

Where was the restart button for his brain? She opened her eyes and seemed to be waiting for a response from him. What had they been talking about? “Friday’s great.” He’d be sure to bring a bucket of steamed mussels and a barrel of garlic butter. Licking that off her lips could lead to all sorts of interesting activities. His groin tightened at the picture that leapt into his head. Pausing, he decided to get something off his chest that had been bothering him since she brought it up. “Why did Harry want you to have drinks with him?”

“You mean other than he’s your basic scumbag?”

“Yeah, other than that.”

“The Marketing Department has an opening, and a recommendation from Harry would increase my chances. He wanted to meet to help me build my case. I suspect his help would come at a price I’m not willing to pay.” She folded her arms on the table, her mouth twisting in frustration. “It’s annoying because I’m qualified, I got my degree—granted, not from a fancy university, but it’s a respected institution—I’ve worked hard. I just need someone to give me a chance to show what I can do.” She huffed out a breath to blow hair from her face.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with that crap.” He felt a muscle tick along his jaw. “Have you thought about looking for a different job?” He’d miss her around the office, but seeing her someplace safe meant more. “Headhunters call me all the time. I’d be happy to give them your name. They handle more than computer engineers.”

“I’ve started putting out feelers, but it’d be great if you passed my name along. The more options, the better. My real goal is to eventually start my own marketing firm.” She took the last bite of her fish taco and wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “I’m freelancing for a few small businesses that appreciate cheap labor. While it’s not much, I’m starting to build a portfolio and beginning to get referrals.”

“Sounds ambitious.” A sense of dread trickled down his throat. The last thing he needed was another female in his life whose only focus was getting ahead.

“If wanting to be my own boss and running an operation the way I think it should be run is ambitious, then yes, I guess I am.” She tossed her wadded napkin on her empty plate. “I want to be independent and successful. I still have a lot to learn about running a business, and I have to figure out the start-up financing…” Her voice grew quiet. “But someday, if I’m good enough, it could happen.”

Josh heard the warning bells clanging in his head but decided to ignore them for now and simply enjoy her company. He’d analyze their exchange later to determine if he was heading into dangerous territory. “Ready to go?”

She nodded and they both stood. He lifted her coat from the back of her chair and helped her into it. The creamy length of neck tempted him to place his lips there, and he wanted to bury his nose in the fresh, fruity scent of her hair.

Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets, but she twined her arm through his as they walked back to the company parking lot. His motorcycle was parked along the edge of the lot and a piece of paper taped to his handlebar caught his eye. He pulled it off and held it up to the streetlight to read. “What the hell?”

“Josh, what’s wrong?” Fiona placed a hand on his arm and peered around him to see the note.

“Cindy’s accusing me of forgetting to pick up Chad today.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead to work out the pressure building there. He may not be the best dad in the world, but he’d been making a concerted effort to do better. He hadn’t been late picking Chad up in months. “That’s not true.” He paused and looked at her. “Today’s Thursday, right?”

“All day.”

“Our agreement is that I pick him up on Mondays, Wednesdays, and the Fridays when it’s my weekend to have him—unless she asks me to fill in for her. Didn’t hear a word from her today. No call. No email. No text.” He shoved the note at Fiona. “Can you believe this?” He couldn’t stand still while she read it. He had to move.

“Asshole. You were supposed to pick up Chad. I got a call from daycare and had to leave an important meeting to go get him. Cindy.”

Fiona handed the note back to him, and he started to crumple it.

“No, wait,” she said. “You might need that in court.” She took it from him and smoothed it between her hands. “You should date it, and I’ll witness it.”

“Good idea.” The thought of saying something bad about his wife in court clawed at his gut, but he’d do whatever he had to for Chad’s sake. He believed that staying in Texas where he would be surrounded by family was in his son’s best interest. After Fiona signed it, he folded the note and put it in his pocket. He took her hand. “Which way to your car?”

“This way.” She walked him over to a fairly new, ruby-red subcompact.

“Red and very tiny.” His knees would be up around his ears. “Aren’t you afraid some trucker will turn you into a crushed mass of metal in that thing?”

“No more than you riding that.” She motioned toward his motorcycle then shrugged and smiled. “It was affordable, kind of cute, and gets good gas mileage. If I had tons of money, it wouldn’t be my dream car, but it’ll do.”

He leaned against the fender. “What is your dream car?” He expected her to name some luxury brand like Cindy had lusted after.

“Honest?” She held up two fingers in a scout pledge. “I’ve always wanted a Mustang convertible. Power under the hood and the breeze rushing past my face. I’d wear a scarf and sunglasses like a movie star.”

“I can picture that.” He turned her toward him hands on her arms. Kissing her hadn’t been part of his plan, but one sweet kiss couldn’t hurt. With other women, this first date parting was always an awkward moment. Kissing Fiona felt natural.

Cupping her upturned face in his palms, he lowered his lips to hers. Her hands rested on his chest and her hair floated softly against his neck. This simple kiss held the promise of lazy summer days and a lifetime of hot, sexy nights. He wanted to draw her in and devour her. Take everything he sensed she had to offer. Swallow her gregariousness until it became a part of him as well.

Her mouth opened, welcoming him and he swept his tongue along hers tasting the remnants of the light, sweet rum she’d sipped. He angled his head, deepening the kiss and diving into the lush pool of heaven that was Fiona. In her embrace, he wasn’t shy—he could conquer the world. Slowly he pulled away, running his tongue over his lips to taste her once more. He gazed into her eyes and felt her sigh brush his cheek.

“Thank you for being with me tonight. You saved me from going home and stewing and worrying and beating myself up.” His knuckles trailed down her cheek.

“You’re welcome. I’ll text you my address and see you tomorrow night.” 

Seeing her again might not be smart. He’d need to protect his heart until he knew whether Fiona put business success above all else. No way would he make the same mistake twice. One woman he hadn’t been good enough for was plenty for one lifetime.

 

Chapter Three

At the sound of a lilting Irish melody ringtone, Fiona sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Hi Mom. What’s up?” Why did her mother always call at the absolute worst time? Josh would arrive shortly, and she needed to finish getting dinner ready. She tried to hold her cell phone to her ear as she rubbed lotion on to her hands. Unfortunately, small, flat, rectangular objects weren’t designed for cradling between cheek and shoulder. She grimaced when it started to slip and she got lotion on its case.

“Can’t a mother just want to hear her long-lost daughter’s voice? Do I have to want something?”

“No mom, you don’t.” Heaviness pressed in on her chest. “But I live in Texas, not on the moon. I call or email you all the time.” She knew she shouldn’t say it out loud, it was a sore point for her mom, but she couldn’t help herself. “How often do you hear from Peter, or Shane, or Liam, or Maggie, or Aiden, or Shannon? They all live nearby.” Steering the conversation to her siblings’ behavior might get her off the hook.

“Well at least I actually get to see them occasionally.”

Regret kicked her in the butt at the sadness in her mother’s voice. “I know Ma. Family’s important and you want to keep all your chicks close. Sometimes, though, we have to spread our wings and fly.” Fiona stood in front of her full-length mirror, twisting to check her ensemble while she talked. “There are things I want to do and being here is where I’m going to make them happen.”

“Honey, the world can be pretty tough on a woman out there by herself.” Fiona ached at the hesitation in her mother’s voice. “Men sometimes try to take advantage of women who work for them. They hold the power.”

“I know you had a bad experience, and yes, some men still treat women like they’re objects instead of people. I hate that, but attitudes will never change if women don’t prove they belong. I’m not giving up on owning my own business.” Exasperation laced her next words. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m going to make something of myself.” She wanted to bite her tongue as soon as the words passed her lips because she knew it would set her mom off.

“Oh, you and your high-falutin’ ideas. Settling down and raising a family like the rest of us isn’t good enough for you?”

A ‘give me patience’ mantra played on autopilot in her mind. “Mom, it’s not like that. Many women have both. I intend to be one of them. When the time is right. Which isn’t now. I want marriage and a family… someday… but I also want to be able to take care of myself if I have to.” Sucking in a breath, Fiona plunged ahead. “If something happened to Da, or one of my sisters’ husbands, how would you manage? Could any of you pay the mortgage or buy food?”

Ignoring Fiona’s concerns, her mother’s tone turned conciliatory, bordering on wheedling. “We just don’t want to see you get hurt. You can always come home if this job thing doesn’t work out for you… Patrick Finn is still carrying a torch for you. He’s a plumber’s apprentice and could give you a real nice life… Think about it. That’s all we’re asking.”

Still mulling over the conversation Fiona placed the serving dishes on the counter and poked the chicken parmesan in the oven with a fork. Just right. She covered the dish with foil and turned the oven down. A pot of water boiling on the stove waited for the addition of the pasta. Salad in the fridge. Sautéed green beans in the skillet. White wine chilling and the cherry pie she’d picked up at the bakery on her way home ready and waiting. Table was set.

She dashed to the bedroom for one last look at her outfit in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t splattered something on it. Skinny jeans with strategically placed rips, an eggplant-colored, silky top that draped at the neck and clung to her curves, dangly earrings that jingled when she tossed her hair, and platform stilettos. She touched up her deep red lipstick and ran her pinky over the rosy eyeshadow that brought out the gold tones in her eyes. Excitement, like one too many cups of coffee, buffeted her nerves.

Walking into the living room of the two-bedroom apartment she shared with her roommate, Fiona wished it was less impersonal. Bland second-hand furniture combined with commercial-grade blinds and carpet. Boring. Other than a few throw pillows, the photos she’d taken and framed, and some table-top knickknacks, the space had no personality. No indication that two vibrant women lived here. She shrugged. There were only so many hours in a day. Satisfying the demands of her growing business was her top priority, not decorating.

Seconds after the doorbell rang, she opened the door. The jittery nerves turned into a warm pool of desire lapping at her feet. Not the ten-foot wave that had knocked her on her butt after their first kiss, but something that hummed just below the surface. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a leather bomber jacket open to reveal a black knit shirt that molded his muscular chest, Josh filled her doorway with scrumptiousness. Shifting from foot-to-foot, he clutched a small, pink gift bag and a thick paper file. She motioned him inside.

“This is for you.” He thrust the bag at her and shrugged out of his jacket.

“Thank you.” She hung his jacket in the coat closet, then reached inside the bag. She loved the crinkling sound of the tissue paper. “A romance novel. I love it!” She pulled him toward her and kissed him quickly on the lips. She couldn’t remember a time she’d been so comfortable with a man.

“I was going to bring flowers, but I remembered hearing you say you loved to read, and this was one of your favorite authors. If you’ve already read it, I have a receipt and you can exchange it for another. I bought her most recent title. The other book is one Ashley, my sister-in-law, suggested.”

Fiona compressed her lips to keep the giggle from escaping. He might as well have a neon sign flashing on his forehead, ‘I’m drowning. Throw me a lifeline.’ She was a good swimmer and more than happy to come to his rescue. “I haven’t read this one yet. So much better than flowers. Nice presentation, by the way.” She kissed him again, lingering longer than before, enjoying his response as his arms slipped around her and aligned her pelvis with his. The thought of him browsing romance novels, picking out one especially for her, had a tender bubble bursting in her midsection.

“The wrapping… Ashley walked me through it. I’d never done the tissue paper, gift bag thing before. Went through two packs of paper before I got it to look right.” He leaned back but kept his arms around her. He sighed, clamped his lips shut, and looked at the ceiling.

Mortification sat on his face like a mask. Her heart melted. She may not be a lot of things, but she was a master at putting people at ease. She rubbed her nose against his. “You are one brave man. Not many have the guts to tackle the romance section of a bookstore.” She twisted out of his embrace and looped an arm through his, guiding him toward the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t you drop your file on the sofa and pour the wine while I finish up.”

“Smells wonderful,” he said. “You put all this together since you got home?”

She handed him the wine bottle and a corkscrew. “None of it involved much prep time, so it was just a matter of throwing the ingredients in a pan and letting it cook.”

“I’m still impressed. Cooking is not my thing,” his grin brought out his dimples, “but eating is.”

He handed her a glass of wine and she took a sip. “Did you get Chad dropped off at his mom’s okay?”

“I did.” He rested his hip against the counter and watched her pull the salad from the fridge and rake the green beans into a waiting bowl.

“And did she give you any grief for the other night?” Fiona slid the cooked noodles onto a platter, nestled the chicken on top, and ladled marinara sauce over everything.

Josh. Warm kitchen on a cold winter’s night. Doing domestic stuff. A woman could get used to this.

Josh shook his head. “She tried to make nice, probably hoping I’d forget about her nasty note.” He crossed his arms and huffed out a breath through his nose. “I’ve spent the last year dividing property, filling out piles of forms on finances, work history, school history, and visits with social workers and attorneys—I’m so done with all this.”

Fiona picked up the platter and the bowl of green beans. Josh cradled the wine bucket in the crook of his arm, sandwiched the two wine glasses between his fingers, picked up the salad, and followed her to the dining area on the other side of the kitchen island.

“For someone as private as you, that must have been hell.” Placing the food on the table, she asked, “you gave a copy of the note to your attorney?”

Josh nodded. “He said, that note, along with the testimony of family and friends, will help show I’m not the only one at fault here.” He set what he was carrying on the battered wooden table and held out her chair for her.

She beamed at him, delighted by his politeness. “From the size of the file you brought with you, I’d say we’ve got a lot of material to go over.”

“It’s amazing the amount of information the court wants in order to make a decision—and Cindy and I aren’t disputing anything other than custody of Josh. I’ve agreed to all her other terms, but we still could be asked questions about all the information we supplied and the parenting plan we had to submit.” His hands gripped the edge of the table.

“Sounds like you’re being asked to walk into a dark cave and have no idea what might be waiting inside.” She’d figured this evening wouldn’t be easy for Josh. If she wanted him to relax and enjoy his meal, it was time to change the topic. She picked up the serving tongs. “Would you like some of the chicken?”

He nodded, and she began filling his plate. “Who will be at the family dinner on Sunday?” she asked.

“As far as I know it will just be immediate family.” He cut into his meat. “My mom and dad, my two brothers—Zach and Nate—Zach’s wife, Ashley, and Nate’s fiancée, Lauren.” He put a bite in his mouth and closed his eyes as he chewed. “Delicious.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Tell me more about your family.”