The Prodigal's Christmas Reunion

Maybe because he’d never figured out how to deal with his own grief.

Losing his father in the car accident that had also claimed the life of his uncle, George Jr., had changed him. Outwardly, no one could see the damage. On the inside, it was a different story. Like tempered glass, Lucas absorbed the impact of the blow but hadn’t been able to stop the tiny cracks from spreading below the surface. Sometimes he felt as if they’d changed the very structure of his soul.

“Wanna go home,” Max choked out.

“We’re setting up camp together, remember? You’ll have your own room and a shelf full of toys.”

It was bribery, plain and simple. The parenting books would disapprove, but it was the best Lucas could do.

Glancing at Erin, he braced himself for the reproach he probably deserved.

The compassion in the golden-brown eyes rocked him to the core.

“You’re looking for a place of your own?” she ventured.

“Mom isn’t used to little kids in the house anymore.” Especially a little kid who woke up in the night, caught in the throes of a waking nightmare.

“There’s a place just down the road for sale,” Erin said, almost reluctantly. “The couple who lives there wants to relocate to Florida to be closer to their daughter.”

Lucas didn’t bother to tell her that he was interested in a house he could rent, not buy. Buying a house meant putting down roots and he was only in Clayton for a year. He silently corrected himself. Eleven months and three weeks.

“I didn’t notice a For Sale sign on the way here.”

“There isn’t one yet.” Erin pushed her hands into her coat pockets. “I heard it’s going on the market this weekend.”

The only place Lucas remembered seeing was a log cabin set back from the road a ways. Small and cozy and surrounded by a yard large enough to appeal to an active boy.

But way too close to Erin.

Seven years ago she’d been both confidante and conscience. His best friend and his first love.

After the way they’d parted, Lucas wasn’t sure what they were anymore. But there was one thing he did know.

The thought of staying in Clayton for a year wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the thought of being Erin Fields’s closest neighbor.

“How long does it take for a guy to get a cup of coffee around this place?”

Erin’s back teeth ground together.

Vincent Clayton had sauntered in five minutes before closing time, leaving a trail of mud and slush across her freshly mopped floor before taking a seat at the farthest table from the kitchen.

He loved to do that.

Erin found herself wishing that she hadn’t sent Gerald and Jerome Hicks home early. Business had been slow so she’d convinced the two cooks that she could handle any last-minute customers and shooed them out the door.

Help me be patient, Lord. Erin sent up the silent prayer as she made her way to Vincent’s table. He smiled at her, his casual pose as deceptive as that of a rattlesnake coiled up in the sun.

She didn’t trust him for a second. This particular snake was always ready—and willing—to strike.

Erin suppressed a shudder as she filled his coffee cup. “Sorry for the delay,” she said automatically. “I had to put on a fresh pot.”

Instead of looking at the menu, Vincent’s gaze swept around the empty dining room. “I guess it’s just you and me, isn’t it, Red?”

“What would you like?”

The sudden glint in the shifty blue eyes made Erin regret the way she’d worded the question. “Now that’s an interesting question,” he drawled. “Could be that I want the same thing my cousin wants.”

“Leave Zach and Kylie alone,” Erin warned. “They’re happy.”

“Who said I was talking about Zach?”

Erin sensed the rage simmering just below the surface of his smile and knew if she followed it to its source, it would lead her to the one family member who had always been Vincent’s greatest rival.

Lucas.

It was hard to believe the two men were related. They didn’t resemble each other in looks or personality. Whereas Lucas had frequently been blamed for his role in things he’d never even taken part in, his cousin had somehow managed to come out smelling like the proverbial rose.

Even now, Vincent had no qualms about using his father Pauley’s title as part-time mayor to throw his weight around.

“It’s late. What would you like to order?” Erin somehow managed to keep her voice steady.

“I heard he brought a kid back with him. Wonder how long that’ll last?” Vincent leaned back, hooking the heels of his snow-covered boots over the rung of the wooden chair beneath the table.

Erin stiffened. “I imagine it will last awhile. Max is his son.”

“His son?” Vincent hooted. “That kid ain’t got a drop of Clayton blood in his veins. Lucas took him in like a stray pup after the boy’s daddy died.”

Erin fought to hide her reaction.

When Lucas had said that Max belonged to him, Erin had searched for a resemblance between the two, some trait passed on from father to son, but had come to the conclusion that the boy must favor his mother.

Vincent’s claim would explain why Lucas had looked so uncomfortable when Max had clung to him in her barn that day.

Bits and pieces of rumors that Erin had heard over the past few months began to fall into place.

The sudden silences and worried looks she’d seen pass between the Clayton family had led her to believe that Lucas was refusing to come back and fulfill the terms of his grandfather’s will.

Now she wondered if the delay hadn’t had something to do with Max.

“Lucas says he’s going to legally adopt the kid, but that won’t happen,” Vincent went on. “We both know that Lucas was never what you’d call a ‘family man.’”

Erin had had her fill of the man’s poison. “He came back, didn’t he?”

The triumphant look in Vincent’s eyes told her that she’d made a mistake. It didn’t matter if he’d been bluffing or if he had somehow known about her and Lucas all along. She’d stuck up for Lucas—the way she always had. If Vincent’s plan was to force Erin into admitting that her feelings for Lucas hadn’t changed, she’d just delivered the answer. Gift-wrapped and ready to use against her.

“But he won’t stay long.” Vincent shook his head in mock sympathy. “Not for old man Clayton’s money or his land. Lucas ain’t wired that way and everybody with a lick of sense knows it.”

His tone implied that Erin Fields didn’t fall into the “people with a lick of sense” category.