Second Chance with the Billionaire

But had he? Had he really? Conor didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he still grieved the loss of his adolescent dreams. He’d put on a brave face for his family...pretended that he was okay with no longer competing. But deep down, a tiny kernel of futile anger remained that he’d been robbed of doing the one thing that gave him such an incredible rush of exhilaration.

“I didn’t get there overnight, Ellie. Acceptance takes time. And Kirby has lost far more than I ever did.”

“That’s not really true, if you think about it. You had to give up competing completely. But Kirby can still be a doctor.”

Her words sent shock reverberating through Conor’s gut. Had all his pretending been wrong? Would it have made life easier if he’d been up-front about his grief?

He cleared his throat, stunned that a woman he hadn’t seen in a decade and a half could analyze the situation so succinctly. “I’ll talk to him. If you think he wants to see me. But I can’t promise miracles.”

“I appreciate it, Conor.”

Ellie’s grateful smile made him uncomfortable. She glowed this morning, no other word for it. Motherhood suited her. If Conor started hanging out at the Porter household, he would see her regularly. That was probably not a good idea given his fascination with her.

Because there was still the mystery of Emory’s father.

Even so, he was drawn to her warmth and caring. Or maybe it was simply the fact that he was sexually attracted to her. She had a body that was lush and ripe. He ached to touch her, much as he had as a teenager. Only now, he knew the kind of pleasure a man and a woman could share.

Imagining Ellie in his bed was definitely not smart. Tormenting himself was pointless. Conor hadn’t changed. He still courted danger. He still relished the exhilaration of pitting himself against the elements. Which meant that Ellie would be as disapproving as ever when she found out the truth about him.

He picked up Emory and blew raspberries on his tummy, anything to distract himself from the image of Ellie’s naked body. “When do you want me to see Kirby?” he asked, wincing as Emory grabbed handfuls of his hair.

“Whenever it’s convenient for you. I know you have a business to run.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the off-season. I’m not exactly tied to a desk. What if I order lunch from the deli and we pick it up on the way to your grandfather’s house?”

“That would be perfect. I’d already made some sandwiches for Kirby and Grandpa and left them in the fridge, but they’ll keep until tomorrow.”

“You want to ride with me?”

“I can’t. The car seat, you know.”

“Ah. Yes. Does your grandfather still live in the same house?”

“Yes.” She scooped up Emory.

“Well, in that case, I’ll see you over there in half an hour.”

He helped Ellie load up the car and watched as she drove away. Already he felt a connection that was stronger than it should have been given their long separation.

It occurred to him suddenly that he had asked questions about Kirby, but he still had no idea what Ellie did for a living. Though she downplayed her intelligence in comparison to her twin, he knew she had done well in school, also. The teachers had loved her.

Conor had wanted her. But her refusal to accept him as he was had kept his adolescent urges in check. Nothing had changed. He’d be smart to ignore this inconvenient attraction. Ellie wasn’t the woman for him.

* * *

The deli was accustomed to him placing to-go orders, but they were surprised by the size of this one. The cute teenager behind the counter smiled teasingly. “Having a party, Mr. Kavanagh?” she asked.

Mr. Kavanagh? Hell, did he seem that old to this kid? “Lunch with some friends.”

“We have fresh strawberry cake in the back. One that’s not even sliced yet. You want a few pieces?”

“I’ll buy the whole thing.” Conor would take any help he could get in the way of a welcome offering. He wasn’t at all sure his invitation from Ellie was going to get Kirby’s stamp of approval. Men liked to hide out and lick their wounds. Kirby might not appreciate having Conor show up out of the blue.

At Mr. Porter’s place, Conor parked on the street and unloaded the bags from the deli. With the cake box balanced in one arm, he made his way up the walk. The property was not in great shape. Not too surprising for an older person who didn’t have the strength to handle fix-it jobs.

The paint on the house was peeling in places. He saw a section of rotting wood on a soffit. Several dead plants needed to be replaced. Even the driveway needed to be resurfaced.

Ellie and Kirby no doubt had plenty of financial resources to take care of things, but maybe Conor could offer to do a few odd jobs. It would give him an excuse to hang around, and maybe he could coax Kirby into holding the ladder or drinking a beer while he kept Conor company.

Ellie waited at the door, the baby on her hip. She looked anxious but incredibly beautiful. “I told him you’re coming,” she said. Her eyes were darker than usual. In their depths he saw worry.

“Point me toward the kitchen,” he said. “And I’ll dump all this stuff. What did he say when you told him?”

“Not much.”

“Great,” Conor muttered. “Does the term busybody mean anything to you?” He put the cold items away and leaned back against the counter. The kitchen was small and dated, but cozy and welcoming in a retro way. He and Kirby and Ellie had visited here on occasion as kids.

“That’s not fair,” she said, her gaze mulish as Emory yanked on a strand of her hair. “Kirby needs company. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

“So I’m your token guinea pig?”

She shrugged. “I’ve done all I can do. If there’s going to be a change in the status quo, I’m betting on you.”

“No pressure.” He was stalling, honestly scared that his longtime friend was going to kick him out after an obligatory five-minute visit. “Let’s get this over with. But if he doesn’t want me here, I’m leaving.”

“We may have to ease him into it, but I know this will be a good thing.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” What did Conor possibly have to say to a man who had lost part of a limb? Yet even amid his doubts, Conor knew he would do anything to put a smile on Ellie’s face.

Mr. Porter was napping, so Kirby was the only one in the living room when Ellie and Conor walked in. In a flash, Conor saw that Kirby had changed. More than Conor could have imagined. The teenage boy Conor remembered was a man with lines at the corners of his eyes and a tight jaw that spoke of pain suffered and battles fought.

Conor crossed the room, holding out his hand. “Hey, Kirby. It’s great to have you back in town. Don’t get up, man.”

But Kirby had already risen awkwardly to his feet, his arms outstretched. “What took you so long?”

Conor hugged him hard, feeling a reciprocal level of emotion in his friend’s embrace. “I had to pick up the food.”

After a moment, they separated. Kirby settled back in his recliner. Conor took a seat close by. Kirby shook his head. “I’ve missed you, buddy. More than you know.” The tone in his voice said a whole lot more than his prosaic words.

Conor had only a split second to ponder his next move. He tapped Kirby’s knee. “So let me see this fake foot.”

“Conor!” Ellie’s shocked exclamation fell into a pit of silence.

Kirby blinked in shock. His jaw worked. And then he burst out laughing. A gut-deep, hearty, belly laugh that went on and on until Conor and Ellie joined in.

Kirby wiped his eyes, his grin a shadow of his former self but a grin, nevertheless. “God, it’s good to see you.” He lifted his pants and extended his leg. “Carbon. Latest issue. The best money can buy.”

“Comfortable?”