Barbara Hannay - One Winter Wedding

He rarely felt possessive over a woman, and certainly not after a kiss or two. But then again, what a kiss! He could still taste her, could smell the cinnamon and spice he’d come to associate with Kelsey. No too-sweet floral scents for her. Nothing expensive, nothing fancy, just…Kelsey.

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” Lisa said with enough tongue-in-cheek attitude to make Connor wonder if she’d noticed how he strove to outlift, outwork, out do Trey. Turning serious, she said, “We’re all glad to help Kelsey. She’s the kind of friend who always takes care of everyone else. This is the first chance we’ve had to pay her back.”

“I doubt she expects payment.”

“She doesn’t. It’s in her nature to help.” The brunette paused, and Connor sensed her debating over her next words. “I think a lot of it comes from taking care of her mom.”

“Kelsey told me her mother died when she was sixteen.” But despite what she’d told him, Connor knew he had only part of the story. Why had Kelsey’s mother—Gordon Wilson’s sister—raised Kelsey on her own? Single mom or not, she should have had the family fortune at her disposal, and yet that clearly hadn’t been the case.

What had caused the rift between Kelsey’s mother and her family? And what about the father Kelsey never mentioned? Connor didn’t ask Lisa those questions. It was up to Kelsey to offer answers…if he asked her.

With a glance at her watch, Lisa told him she had to go, but she left with a few final words he translated into a warning. “Kelsey’s a great girl. She deserves the best.”

Connor waited for the woman to add that Kelsey deserved better than him, but when she merely gazed at him in expectation, he realized Lisa wasn’t telling him Kelsey deserved better than him; she was telling him Kelsey deserved the best from him.

“Well, I finally found a plumber who can come this week…” Kelsey’s voice trailed off as she walked from the back room, cell phone in hand.

Connor stood alone in the middle of the shop. Even with the progress they’d made, bringing her dream closer to reality, he overwhelmed the place. If anything, the shop’s increasingly feminine decor only served as a larger reminder of Connor’s masculinity. And after that kiss, Kelsey didn’t have any doubt whatsoever about his undeniable and—she was beginning to fear—irresistible masculinity.

“Lisa had to take off,” he explained.

“Oh. She was probably afraid I’d put her to work again if she didn’t sneak away.”

“I don’t think so. Your friends will obviously do anything for you.”

Uncomfortable with the praise, Kelsey countered, “Like Javy would for you.”

Connor frowned. “Yeah. He thinks he owes me, but the truth is, his family bailed me out when I was a kid. Nothing I’ve done would be enough to repay them.”

Despite the explanation he’d promised earlier, Connor’s voluntary statement caught Kelsey off guard, surprising her almost as much as his kiss. She shook her head and protested, “Just because I spilled my guts doesn’t mean you have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted. “I should have told you about my past last night, but I haven’t told anyone since Señora Delgado pried it out of me as a kid.”

“You—you didn’t tell anyone?” Kelsey prodded.

You didn’t tell Emily?

His penetrating gaze read into the heart of her question, hearing what she hadn’t asked, and he vowed, “I didn’t tell anyone.”

And suddenly Kelsey wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Listening to what he had to say seemed to take on a greater significance because Connor wanted to tell her, to confide in her, something he’d never told Emily.

Without saying another word, Connor stepped forward, his long strides erasing the distance between them. He caught her hand and led her over to the love seat her friends had surprised her with. She’d been overwhelmed by their generosity. The sofa would be the perfect place for her soon-to-be-married couples to sit side by side and decide floral arrangements, wedding invitations, dinner menus.

But as soon as Connor sank down onto the love seat, she decided it would be the perfect place for her to curl up in his arms, the perfect place to kiss him and never stop. The masculine-feminine contrast sent a slow roll of awareness through her stomach as he settled back against the rose-covered cushions. In faded cotton and rough worn denim, he should have looked out of place; instead, his broad shoulders and wide chest looked far more comfortable and inviting than the floral chintz ever could.

Swallowing, she folded onto the couch beside him, one leg bent and angled toward Connor. He stared straight ahead, keeping his silence, and Kelsey sensed his thoughts drifting back to a past he’d purposely chosen not to face…until now.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “My father was a truck driver. Eighteen-wheeler. He worked hard, drank hard. He was…strict.”

The tension in Connor’s shoulders and the way his hands tightened into fists gave a clear definition of the word. Her heart ached for the boy he’d been, a boy she could picture so easily. Dark hair that was too long, a body that was too skinny, and a gaze that was too old. She could see him in her mind as if, somehow, he’d been there all along.

Crazy, she thought, but she felt she knew him so well. And now that Connor was willing to give out answers, did she dare ask more questions? Could she risk getting to know him even better?

In the end, no matter the potential danger to her heart, Kelsey had to ask. Not because she needed to hear the story…but because Connor needed to tell it. “And your mother?” she asked softly.

One by one his fingers unclenched then slowly laced together as if cradling something precious. “She was a dreamer. She was always…looking for something. Always hoping for a better life, only she never found it. I was eight when she died. She’d been taking art lessons, or maybe it was a dance class. I can’t remember.”

Connor cleared his throat. “Anyway, this place wasn’t in the best part of town. I begged her not to go. I knew something bad was going to happen. But she went anyway. No one knows exactly what happened,” he added, the tension pulling at his shoulders revealing how much not knowing still troubled him, “but the police figured a mugging went wrong. Either my mom fought back or the guy panicked, and the gun went off.”

“Oh, Connor, I’m so sorry.” Just as she feared, her heart ached a little more at the telling, and she longed to reach out to him, to comfort him. But she didn’t. This time it was her turn to twist her fingers together, strangling the desire to touch him.

Because—despite his kiss—she still feared her touch wasn’t the one Connor wanted.

But he never told Emily about his family. He’s telling you! Aching or not, her heart had the strength to argue, and Kelsey felt her resistance crumbling.

“The guy stole her purse and wallet,” Connor went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “It took three days before the police figured out who she was.”

“Didn’t your dad report her missing?”

“He was on a long-distance drive. He didn’t know anything was wrong.”

“But when your mother didn’t come home, someone must have tried to get hold of him. The people you were staying with—” As soon as she said the words, realization flooded Kelsey and her breath caught. “You were alone, weren’t you?”

“My mom thought I was old enough to take care of myself, and it should have only been for a few hours.”

Hours that had stretched into days.

“Wasn’t there anyone you could call? A friend of the family?”