Adventures In Parenthood

“Yeah.” He smiled sadly. “We’d settled into a groove and I thought she was as content as I was.”

He’d made up his own cotton-candy story. “That’s kind of what happened with Rafe. I thought we had more than we did.”

Dixon nodded.

“So you were serious about her?”

“Sure. I was thirty-one. It was time to get married and have kids.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m thirty-four.” He shrugged, but he was smiling.

“And you’ll be locked down with the girls.” She suffered a jolt of guilt for hanging on to her own freedom, while he got trapped.

“It’ll happen when it happens. What about you? You plan to settle down?”

“Maybe. I don’t think that far ahead.” She didn’t know how much time she had, after all. The countdown to breast cancer ticked away in her brain.

“What about a family?”

“I’m not the type,” she said. “When we were little, Brianna played house and I played Lara Croft.”

Dixon smiled. “People change.”

“Not that much. I’m not built for it. Mom said I was like our father, who was a total outdoors guy.”

“Outdoor guys have kids.”

He wanted more of an answer, so she gave him one. “It’s too easy to screw up with children. So much can go wrong.”

“Life is risk, Aubrey,” he said softly. “There are no guarantees.”

“You’re right. There are car wrecks and cancer.” The harsh words burned like a brand. “I’m not as brave as Brianna.” Her sister had been scared of cancer, but she’d married and had children all the same. And look what happened.

She swallowed hard, suddenly overcome by her sister’s tragedy.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

“It’s okay. Everything reminds me.”

She remembered the last thing her mother had said to her before she died. Her mother had pushed herself out of her morphine fog to look straight at Aubrey, fire in her eyes: make your mark, Aubrey. Carry on for me. Don’t hold back.

Her mother had always claimed not to regret having had Aubrey and Brianna, but she’d given up the life she’d loved for them.

“How’s your foot? Need an aspirin?” Dixon asked.

“It’s fine.” She thought about Mexico again, relieved to change the subject. “It was fine that night, too.” She tilted her head, challenging him. “I didn’t need an X-ray.” Citing stats about untreated foot breaks, he’d wanted to take her to a hospital.

“Your ankle was the size of a watermelon.”

“More like a large peach. I wasn’t in that much pain.”

“Correction. You couldn’t feel that much pain, thanks to Tylenol 3 and champagne. That was a crazy stunt. I don’t know why I did it.” There was fondness in his tone.

“I do,” she said. They locked gazes and the air tightened, holding them, suspended, not breathing.

“Yeah. That.”

As if a starting gun had gone off inside her, sexual desire shot through her, like the adrenaline surge she experienced before a new challenge.

What was it about Dixon? He was not her type. He was serious, steady, careful...boring. It had to be the glint in his eye that said he could be tempted, that she could tempt him. Aubrey alone.

At that moment, she was glad to feel something besides sadness and exhaustion. In the back of her mind, cold shadows loomed—her sister’s death, her nieces’ fear and loss—but in the golden light of this room, with the sizzle of champagne in her veins, and this man looking at her that way, she was free of all that.

Behind the burn of desire in Dixon’s gaze, she caught flickers of the grief waiting to ambush him, too, but for now, he was drinking her in, wanting her, and that sent a flare from her belly to her brain, lighting her up inside. They were in this together—playing hooky from hell.

The seconds stretched, their breathing loud and uneven. She shifted her wrapped foot to the floor and leaned closer to him, fingers reaching across the back of the sofa to touch his. “Why did you leave me that night? Really?”

“It was late. You were hurt. I was drunk.” He paused. “By the way, did you throw something at the door after I left?”

“Yes. The ice bucket. I was mad.” She paused. “It was more than that, the reason you left.” She’d seen it in his face.

He didn’t answer right away, then seemed to see she wouldn’t back down, so he spoke. “Earlier that night, I’d made a decision and I wanted to stick with it.”

“What was it? To go celibate?”

Dixon laughed. “No. Howard asked me if I was happy. I realized I wasn’t even close. I made plenty of money, but I didn’t love my job or my life.”

“You managed property, right?”

“Yeah. I ran some major office complexes. But what I did didn’t matter. I spent my evenings and weekends hunting down distractions—parties, clubs, sports, women. I wanted more.”

“So having sex with me in a luxurious suite made you feel like your life had no meaning?” She’d joked, but she was still hurt. His rejection had stemmed from a lecture from his judgmental brother.

Dixon laughed, a big boisterous sound that made her smile. “That didn’t come out right. You were injured. You were being a good sport about it, but you were suffering. You could have been killed. That sobered me. We were following a script—best man and maid of honor hooking up after the reception—and it didn’t feel right. I knew if I was going to change my life it had to start then.” He blew out a breath.

“I should be offended, but I’m not.” He’d gotten to the heart of it all. She had been playing a part, following through on her dare, and her ankle had hurt like crazy. “At least I was tempting,” she said. “Even though I reeked of seaweed and had an ankle the size of a watermelon?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I was tempted. I hit the lobby and started back up until I realized the codeine had probably knocked you out by then.” He studied her, his gaze heating up again. “I wanted you, Aubrey. Badly.” His eyes settled on her mouth. “I still want you.”

He gripped the fingers she’d extended and pulled her close enough to feel his breath on her face. Her heart was beating so hard her ribs hurt. Electricity and desire poured through her, washing away everything else.

Their mouths met. His lips were warm and firm, and he tasted of champagne again. All they needed to complete the memory was cold saltwater.

He braced her head, guiding her onto her back, still kissing her. Once she lay flat, his lips moved more urgently, his tongue seeking hers. Her head began to spin.

He broke off, pressing his lips against her throat. “What are we doing?”