The Marine's Secret Daughter Page 8

  “No.” She picked up a towel, pulled a dish out of the rinse water and began drying a dinner plate with quick, economical movements. “It’s on my list of improvements.”

  Her small, capable hands caught his attention. Meg didn’t wear rings or even have polish on her nails, but her hands were infinitely feminine. A shaft of lust jolted through him and coiled low in his belly. He ached to feel those hands on him, touching him, exploring him. What’re you, Cooper? Sixteen? He pressed against the sink, hoping to hide the evidence of his arousal.

  Get a grip on this, Marine. No distractions. This time was for healing, not hooking up with Meggie again. She deserved more than what he could give her. As a distraction, he studied the cabinets surrounding the sink, wondering about the potential placement of a dishwasher. Plumbing was a much safer topic than Meg’s hands and what they could do to him.

  He grabbed a scrubber from the ceramic frog on the windowsill above the sink. “It looks to me like you’re doing a good job with the place.”

  “Thanks.” Her face creased into a proud smile, making her green eyes sparkle.

  “Do you have a list of what else needs attention?” What’re you doing? Do not get involved.

  “You’ve already done too much.”

  “I’ll take a look around.” He had noticed a loose step on the porch and a shutter that needed to be reattached. The roof looked as though it could use some attention, too.

  “That’s not necessary. It might take a while, but I’m capable and I’m not in a rush.” She pulled out the drawer, rattling the silverware inside. “I plan on being here a good, long while.”

  “I’m not doubting your capabilities. I simply want to help.” What happened to not getting involved? He knew what was expected of him as a marine. The routine and belonging gave him the security he’d lacked as a child. So why did an image of being in this kitchen with Meg and her daughter keep popping into his head? Considering the battleground his parents had created, he had no business thinking he could be a family man. He shoved those thoughts aside.

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” She pushed the drawer in with her hip. “How about taking our coffee and dessert onto the porch? The mosquitoes haven’t been too bad yet. We may as well enjoy it.”

  “Sounds good.” He dried his hands on the towel she handed him.

  “I’m calling it dessert but it’s just some homemade cookies,” she said and pulled out a decorative tin and opened it. “I hope you like snickerdoodles. They’re Fiona’s favorite.”

  “I haven’t had any in ages, but the ones my gran made were always my favorite as a kid. Fiona has good taste.” He had fond memories of visits to his maternal grandmother. She never harangued him over his father’s supposed infidelities or his mother’s spending habits. Gran insisted he be allowed to be a child and not a confidant for either parent’s shortcomings.

  “Yes...well...” Meg ducked her head and pulled out a box of coffee pods.

  Even though she’d already put cookies on a plate to bring out, he snagged a handful from the open tin and winked when she raised her eyebrows. Snickerdoodles were comfort food as far as he was concerned and he’d never get enough. And cookies weren’t the only thing in this kitchen he couldn’t get enough of. That thought weighed heavy on him as he followed Meg onto the porch.

  They settled in the Adirondack chairs and sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes.

  She set her mug on the little table separating the chairs. “What made you come to Loon Lake?”

  “I had thirty days and wanted someplace where I could relax and...” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know himself why he’d picked it other than to relive some good memories.

  “And drink the bottles in your bag?”

  He grimaced. “To be honest, I’m not sure why I brought them. I haven’t opened any.”

  “You’re over twenty-one and don’t owe me any explanations.” She sipped her coffee.

  “Why did you pick Loon Lake over staying closer to Boston?”

  “Because it’s where I want to raise Fiona and it’s a good home for us.” Her gaze wandered over the yard, her beautiful green eyes bright, a proud expression on her face. “I have plans.”

  “Plans?” He grabbed the last snickerdoodle, glanced at her and snapped the cookie, offering her half.

  Munching on the cookie, she surveyed the yard as if she was a Realtor. “I can picture a swing set for Fiona...maybe a dog. That would have been harder in the city. Liam bought a triple-decker in Dorchester and wanted me to move into the second-or third-floor apartment, but his backyard is the size of a postage stamp...half of it concrete. He’s on a nice street, but I wouldn’t have felt comfortable letting Fiona out to run around with a puppy.”

  “A dog? What about your asthma?” Aw, Christ, the sudden sadness in her eyes punched him in the gut. Why did he bring that up? “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She squeezed her hand into a fist. “The doctor said if I could find something hypoallergenic, it would be okay. I hate to deny Fiona because of my asthma.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you think you’ll be able to find one?”

  “They exist. I just have to find the right one for both of us.”

  He reached out and took her clenched hand in both of his and uncurled her fingers one by one. Tracing the lines, he stroked her palm with his index finger. “I guess I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that you’re all grown up and a mother. Does it feel weird living in your parents’ old place? I left a wet towel on the floor and I swear I heard my mother yelling at me to pick it up.”

  “Yeah, at first it felt really weird. Especially when I started making changes.” She gave him a lopsided grin that sent his blood racing. “Like you, I heard my mom’s voice in my head asking why I chose that color for the kitchen.”

  He curled his fingers over hers and they shared a laugh.

  “Riley, I—”

  Meg’s words were cut off by a shrill a-hink-a-honk-a-hink-a-honk. Moments later, geese flying in the standard V formation filled the clear sky above them. They watched the giant birds until the large flock had disappeared.

  “Let’s walk down to the lake.” He tugged on her hand. “I know how you used to love to listen to the loons at sunset.”

  She hesitated.

  He pulled on her hand again. “C’mon, for old times’ sake. Whaddaya say?”

  “I... Yes, let me grab my jacket.”

  “I’ll bring in the coffee cups while you do that.” Her agreement to walk to the lake with him shouldn’t have meant as much as it did. It was nothing and yet he looked forward to it like a teenager looked forward to some backseat time with the prettiest girl in the school.

  * * *

  Coward.

  The word flashed in her mind as she walked toward the lake. She’d started to confess when the geese flew over. She shouldn’t have let that stop her. Nor should she have postponed it when he suggested a walk to the lake. No doubt about it. She was a coward.

  Dusk had settled around them by the time they reached the lake. The sun had dipped below the horizon, but there was still enough light for Meg to see the conical spires of the trees silhouetted against the sky. Most of the lake was obscured, shrouded in fog rising from the water. Her heart beat faster the closer they got. Being afraid of something after dark that she was comfortable with during the light of day was silly, maybe childish, but telling herself that didn’t help or make it go away. But then, that was the definition of an irrational fear.

  Riley’s hand landed on her shoulder, startling her, and her toes curled in her sneakers.

  He bent down so his mouth was close to her ear, his warm, moist breath tickling her. “Take a nice, deep breath and let it out...slowly. You’re safe. I promise.”

  “I’m okay.” She sucked in another breath and jammed her hands into the front p
ocket of the new hoodie Riley had bought for her at the hospital.

  “I’d forgotten your fear of getting too close to the water at night. But you know you have nothing to worry about. You’re not going to fall in and even if you did, this time you know how to swim.”

  The concern in his deep voice caused her heart to expand. “It’s okay... I’ve... I’ve outgrown it.”

  “That’s good to know, but just like when we were kids, I’ll jump in after you if you fall.” His arms went around her and he pulled her closer, her back to his chest. She leaned against him, unable to help herself. She wanted to blame the way she melted into him all on her fear of the dark water, but she knew it wasn’t totally true. His heat and hardness drew her to him. They stood locked in an embrace, his chin resting on her head.

  The first time she’d broken out of her stereotypical role as the family’s good child who followed the rules was the day after the family had arrived at their new vacation home. She and Tina had taken a borrowed rowboat onto the lake after dark. Meg had fallen into the dark water and panicked. If not for Riley, she might have drowned. He’d seen her sneaking out and followed her, so he’d been there to save her. The next time she’d thrown off her good-girl mantle had been the night she’d spent in Riley’s arms. But he hadn’t been there later to help her. So she’d learned to save herself. Not that she hadn’t nearly drowned—figuratively, that is—a few times, but she’d managed to tread water and build a good life here.

  A long, mournful wail echoed eerily over the water. Seconds later there was another distinctive tremolo call, as if to answer the first one. Water splashed and the evocative calls continued to punctuate the night air.

  “They’re calling to their mates,” he whispered roughly before turning her in his arms. His lips captured hers and a spark of desire shot through her entire body, right down to her soul. She heard a low moan and wasn’t sure if the sound came from her, him or the loons. With his lips over hers, she tasted coffee and cinnamon from the cookies.

  She arched her back, trying to get closer, trying to mold her lips to his, her desire to his. His arms tightened around her in response, as if he wanted to melt into her, or absorb her into himself. She fisted her hands in his soft T-shirt, leaning into him when her legs could no longer support her weight. Remember what happened last time, a little voice inside warned. True, but she deserved some excitement and, just like she knew how to swim now, she also knew enough to stop before things got out of control.

  He made a low, rumbling sound deep in his throat and she pressed closer as heat and moisture rushed to the juncture at her thighs. Yeah, what was that about knowing when to put the brakes on? She needed to remember he wasn’t staying in Loon Lake. Had she learned nothing? She was not one of those loons and Riley was not her mate for life, not even for now. He’d be gone within thirty days.

  She drew her head back and pushed on his chest. “Riley, I can’t.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “No. No one.” Shaking her head, she took another step back.

  “Is it the guy who—”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “This has nothing to do with anyone else but me. I have responsibilities. I can’t afford to do temporary.”

  “That’s all I can do.”

  “I know.” She exhaled slowly.

  “Meggie, I—”

  “I get it. The marines are your life.” She’d tried, and failed, to keep a note of wistfulness out of her voice. She turned and trudged back toward the cottages as the loons continued to call to their mates.

  Chapter Five

  Meg stuck the red-handled trowel into the loose dirt and wiggled it around before pushing the small clump of purple pansies into the hole. It was probably too early even for pansies, but she’d needed a distraction while she rehearsed how to tell Riley he was a father. She should’ve told him last night when they’d walked to the lake. He might not be staying in Loon Lake, but while he was here it was only fair for father and daughter to get acquainted. Compared to telling Riley, breaking the news to her parents had been a cinch.

  “Need some help?”

  The garden tool slipped from her hand and she turned to face Riley. “Perfect timing. I was just finishing up.”

  “I figured if I waited long enough, you’d be done.” He grinned and held out his hand to help her up from her kneeling position. “Seriously, is there something I can do?”

  She wiped her hands on her frayed jeans. “You could fill the watering can over there from the exterior faucet on the side of the house.”

  “I guess I can handle that.” He picked up the can and went to the spigot. “Got any of those cookies left?”

  She rolled her eyes, hoping lightening the mood would also settle those elephants—she’d gone way past butterflies—tramping around in her stomach since kissing him last night. “I guess. You water the flowers while I go wash my hands and get the cookies. I suppose you’ll want some coffee with them.”

  “You read my mind.”

  She put a K-cup into the coffeemaker and went to wash her face and run a comb through her hair. While the second cup was brewing, she put some of the cookies on a plate.

  “Give those mugs to me and I’ll take them out on the porch,” he said from the doorway.

  “Oh, sure, you’re Johnny-on-the-spot when food is involved.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m not an idiot.”

  Once seated in the Adirondack chairs, Meg sipped her coffee and searched for the courage to tell Riley the truth.

  He leaned back in the chair and brought a leg up, resting his ankle on the opposite knee.

  She drew in a breath. Okay, she should tell him now, while they were alone and both relaxed. “Riley, there’s something I—”

  Bugles blaring the opening strains of the Marine Corps Hymn interrupted her. He held up a finger as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket and frowned. “Damn. I should get this.”

  She nodded and sat back in the chair. A reprieve, that was all this was.

  He stood. “What’s up?”

  He didn’t say anything else, but the color drained from his face as he listened. When he caught her watching him, he turned on his heel and strode to the other end of the porch, keeping his back to her.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. Obviously, it wasn’t good news, although his end of the conversation consisted of a few “uh-huhs” and a lot of head shaking. By the time he ended the call, she could bounce pennies off his rigid back.

  “Riley?” She rose and went to him, touching his shoulder, but he shrugged off her hand. “Is something wrong?”

  “Some bad news about one of the guys in my squad,” he said without turning around.

  “Do you... Would you like to talk about it?”

  “A guy I served with ate his gun today.” He turned and marched back to the chair but didn’t sit; instead, he slammed his phone down on the table. The coffee mugs and cookie plate rattled. “I don’t think talking is going to change anything.”

  “No, but sometimes it helps,” she said in an even tone, refusing to take his anger personally. She put her hands in her pockets to keep from reaching out. What else did she have to offer besides comfort? Would he even accept it?

  “Tell that to his wife and two little girls.” He held up both hands. “I’m sorry, Meggie, I... We’ll talk later, okay?”

  Her heart stuttered at the pain he must be feeling. Her shoulders slumping, she turned back to the table and noticed he’d left his phone. “Riley, wait.”

  He waved his hand. “Not now, Meg.”

  “No, you left your phone.” She ran to catch up to him, but hesitated when he turned around. Seeing him suffering made her want to throw her arms around him and help ease his pain. But she held back.

  “I’m sorry.” He stepped closer and wrapped his large hand over hers,
tugging her close. His intense gaze met hers as he leaned over and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “I’m not going to be good company right now.”

  For a long time after he’d left, she sat on the porch, her knees drawn up to her chest. What if that had been Riley? The thought of something happening to him before he even had a chance to meet Fiona gutted her. Unshed tears scalded the back of her throat. Father and daughter had a right to know one another and she’d never forgive herself if she could have brought that about and didn’t.

  * * *

  After a sleepless night, Meg poured a second cup of coffee. She’d resisted staring out the window at Riley’s cottage, and had succeeded...a few of those times.

  She yawned and stared at the coffee in her cup as if it could provide an answer to her problems. Telling Riley the truth was job number one. Yeah, as soon as she figured out how.

  A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts and she jumped up to answer.

  “Hey.” Riley stood on her porch with a tentative smile and a bag from a coffee shop on the square. He lifted the bag. “I hope you still like the cheese Danish from Millie’s Bakery.”

  “I do.”

  “Is that coffee I smell?” He lifted an eyebrow.

  She stepped aside. “C’mon in.”

  In the kitchen, Riley set the bag on the table. “Sit. I can fix my own coffee.”

  Meg opened the bag and peered at the three assorted Danish. “How come you didn’t get any for yourself?”

  He turned around, mug in hand and his mouth slightly open. She laughed and plopped in her seat. “Gotcha.”

  He sat down across from her. “Lucky for you, I’m willing to share.”

  “Me? You’re the one who’s lucky because I’m so generous.” She pulled out a Danish, put it on a napkin and pushed it toward him before getting one for herself. If only she didn’t have the guilt hanging over her head, she might be able to enjoy her favorite pastry.

  “I came over this morning to try to explain,” he said before taking a bite.

  She nodded, but remained silent while he chewed, afraid of saying the wrong thing. It was hard to even imagine what he might be going through, especially after what he’d told her after his episode at the church. She’d understood on a certain level. There were times when she’d felt as though she were scrambling for traction in thin air when it came to being a single parent and wanting to do her best, but being on a battlefield was beyond her experiences.