Rumors: The McCaffertys: The McCaffertys: Thorne

But the damage was done. Mindy wouldn’t stop sobbing and pointing a condemning finger at her twin. “You, bad!”

Molly shook her head. “Am not.”

Nicole shot her outspoken daughter a look meant to silence her, then picked Mindy up and, consoling her while walking toward the hallway, whispered into her ear, “Come on, big girl, let’s brush your teeth and get you into bed.”

“Don’t wanna—” Mindy complained and Molly cackled loudly before realizing she was alone. Quickly she slid out of her chair and little feet pounding, ran after Nicole and Mindy. In the bathroom, the dispute was forgotten, tears were wiped away and two sets of teeth were brushed. As the pizza cooled, mozzarella cheese congealing, Nicole and the girls spent the next twenty minutes cuddled beneath a quilt in her grandmother’s old rocker. She read them two stories they’d heard a dozen times before. Mindy’s eyes immediately shut while Molly, ever the fighter, struggled to stay awake only to drop off a few minutes later.

For the first time that day, Nicole felt at peace. She eyed the fire that Jenny had built earlier. Dying embers and glowing coals in deep ashes were all that remained to light the little living room in shades of gold and red. Humming, she rocked until she, too, nearly dozed off.

Struggling out of the chair she managed to carry her daughters into their bedroom and tuck them into matching twin beds. Mindy yawned and rolled over, her thumb moving instinctively to her mouth and Molly blinked twice, said, “I love you, Mommy,” then fell asleep again.

“Me, too, baby. Me, too.” She kissed each daughter and smelled the scents of shampoo and baby powder, then walked softly to the door.

Molly sighed loudly. Mindy smacked her little lips.

Folding her arms over her chest Nicole leaned against the doorjamb.

Her ex-husband’s words, “You’ll never make it on your own,” echoed through her mind and she felt her spine stiffen. Right, Paul, she thought now, but I’m not on my own. I’ve got the kids. And I’m going to make it. On my own.

Every minute of that painful, doomed marriage was worth it because she had the girls. They were a family—maybe not an old-fashioned, traditional, 1950s sitcom family, but a family nonetheless.

She thought fleetingly of Randi’s baby, tucked away in the maternity ward, his father not yet found, his mother in a coma and she wondered what would become of the little boy.

But the baby has Thorne and Matt and Slade. Between the three of them, certainly the boy would be taken care of. Every one of the McCafferty brothers seemed interested in the child, but each one of them was a bachelor—how confirmed, she didn’t know.

“Not that it matters,” she reminded herself and glanced outside where rain was dripping from the gutters and splashing against the window. She thought of Thorne again, of the way his lips felt against hers, and she realized that she had to avoid being alone with him. She had to keep their relationship professional because she knew from experience that Thorne was trouble.

Big trouble.

* * *

He was making a mistake of incredible proportions and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Driving through the city streets and silently marveling at how this town had grown, he’d decided to see Nikki again before returning to the ranch. She’d probably throw him out and he really didn’t blame her as he’d come on way too strong, but he had to see her again.

After watching her wheel out of the parking lot after their last confrontation, he’d walked back into the hospital, downed a cup of bitter coffee in the cafeteria, then tried to track down any doctor remotely associated with Randi and the baby. He’d struck out with most, left messages on their answering machines and after talking to a nurse in Pediatrics and one in ICU, he’d called the ranch, told Slade that he’d be back soon, then paused at the gift shop in the hospital lobby, bought a single white rose and, ducking his shoulders against the rain, ran outside and climbed into his truck.

“This is nuts,” he told himself as he drove across a bridge and into an established part of town, to the address he’d found in the telephone directory when he’d made his calls to the other doctors. Bracing himself for a blistering reception, he parked in front of the small cottage, grabbed the single flower and climbed out of the car.

Jaw set he dashed up the cement walk, and before he could change his mind, pressed on the door buzzer. He’d been in tighter spots than this. He heard noises inside, the sound of feet. The porch light snapped on and he saw her eyebrows and eyes peer through one of the three small windows cut into the door. A moment later they disappeared as, he supposed, she dropped to her flat feet from her tiptoes.

Locks clicked. The door opened. And there she stood, all five feet three of her wrapped in a fluffy white robe. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked without a smile. Her eyes skated from his face to the flower in his hands.

He nearly laughed. “You know, this seemed like a good idea at the time but now…now I feel like a damned fool.”

“Because?” Again the lift of that lofty eyebrow.

“Because I thought I owed you an apology for the way I came on earlier.”

“In the parking lot?”

“And the hospital.”

“You were upset. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t just upset. I was, as I said before, out of line, and I’d like to make it up to you.”

Her chin lifted a fraction. “Make it up to me? With…that?” she asked, one finger pointing to the single white bud.

“To start with.” He handed her the flower and thought, beneath her hard posturing, he caught a glimpse of a deeper emotion. She held the flower, lifted it to her nose and sighed.

“Thanks. This is enough…more than you needed to do.”

“No, I think I owe you an explanation.”

She tensed again. “It was only a kiss. I’ll live.”

“I mean about the past.”

“No!” She was emphatic. “Look, let’s just forget it, okay? It’s been a long day. For both of us. Thanks for the flower and the apology, it’s…it’s very nice of you, but I think it would be best—for everyone, including your sister and her new baby—if we both just pretended that nothing ever happened between us.”

“Can you?”

“Y-yes. Of course.”

He couldn’t stop one side of his mouth from twitching upward. “Liar,” he said and Nicole nearly took a step backward. Who was he to stop by her house and…and what? Apologize? What’s the crime in that? Why don’t you ask him in and offer him a cup of coffee or a drink?

“No!”

“You’re not a liar?”

“Not usually,” she said, recovering a bit. She felt the lapel of her bathrobe gap and it took all of her willpower not to clutch it closed like a silly, frightened virgin. “You seem to bring out the worst in me.”

“Ditto.” He leaned forward and she expected him to kiss her again, but instead of molding his lips to hers, he brushed his mouth across the slope of her cheek in the briefest of touches. “Good night, Doctor,” he whispered and then he turned and hurried down the porch steps to dash through the rain.

She stood in the glow of the porch lamp, her fingers curled possessively around the rose’s stem and watched him steer his truck around in her driveway before he drove into the night. Forcing herself inside, she closed and bolted the door. She didn’t know what was happening, but she was certain it wasn’t going to be good.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t get involved with Thorne again. No way. No how. In fact, she’d toss the damned flower into the garbage right now. Padding to the kitchen she opened the cupboard under the sink, pulled out the trash can and hesitated. How childish. Thorne was trying to make amends. Nothing more. She touched the side of her cheek, then placed the rosebud in a small vase, certain it would mock her for the next week.

“Don’t let him get to you,” she warned, but had the fatalistic sensation that it was already too late. He’d gotten to her a long, long time ago.

* * *

Thorne parked outside of what had once been the machine shed and eyed the home where he’d been raised, a place he’d once vowed to leave and never return. Though it was dark and the rain was coming down in sheets, he saw the house looming on its small rise, warm patches of light glowing from tall, paned windows. It had been a haven at one time, a prison later.

He grabbed his briefcase and the overnight bag and wondered what had come over him. Why had he stopped at Nikki’s? There was more than just a simple apology involved and that thought disturbed him. It was as if seeing her again sparked something deep inside him, something he’d thought had burned out years before, a smoldering ember he hadn’t known existed.

Whatever it was, he didn’t have time for it and he didn’t want to examine it too closely.

Lights blazed from the stables and he recognized Slade’s rig parked near the barn. As he ducked through the rain he remembered the first time he’d seen Nicole—years ago at a local Fourth of July celebration in town. He’d been back from college, ready to enter law school in the fall, randy as hell and anxious to get on with his life. She’d only been seventeen, a shy girl with the most incredible eyes he’d ever seen as she’d staked out a spot on a hill overlooking the town and waited for darkness and the fireworks that were planned.