Helen Lacey - His-and-Hers Family

“At least you’ve had the courage to try,” she said in between a mouthful of noodles.

“Have you ever been close?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m always the best friend.”

“What?”

She smiled. “You know, the best friend. There’s the girl who always gets the guy … and then there’s the ever-faithful best friend standing on the sidelines. That’s me.”

The best friend . Who was she kidding? She made herself sound about as exciting as an old shoe. Ridiculous. When he could feel the vibration of her through to his blood. Her skin was as clear as a camellia flower, and that hair … He suddenly had a startling image of it trailing across his chest.

Wyatt cleared his throat and drank some beer. “I suppose we should talk about Cecily.”

She looked up. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he replied, choosing his words. “Before I agree to anything, I need to know if you really want to connect with her. Or if you feel ambivalent or like you have no other choice because it’s what Cecily wants. If that’s the case, believe me, I’ll leave tomorrow and you’ll never hear from me again until you’re ready to make the next move.”

Panic quickly filled her eyes. “No … don’t do that.”

Wyatt didn’t respond. He waited. She had to make a decision. There were no acceptable half measures. Fiona Walsh was either in or out.

“I want …” She stopped, paused, took a long breath. He waited some more for her to speak again. “I do want this,” she said finally, and Wyatt didn’t miss the way her eyes glistened. “I want a chance to explain why I gave her up.”

“And the hard questions?” he shot back. “Because she’s going to ask them and you need to be ready.”

“I will be.”

Wyatt wasn’t sure. Something was amiss; he felt it through to his bones. There was something she wasn’t telling him. He pushed the food aside. “Fiona, about Cecily’s father—I think there are things you’re not saying.”

She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. “There’s nothing. He’s dead. He can never hurt her.”

Wyatt immediately picked up on her words. “Did he hurt you? ”

Fiona’s eyes fluttered. “I didn’t mean that. I meant … I meant he’s dead and won’t ever be a part of her life.”

“And that’s all?”

She nodded. “That’s all.”

Caution rattled around in his head, but he stopped the interrogation. “Okay, I’ll talk with Cecily when I get home. We’ll work something out. Cecily’s welfare is my priority, so you understand that any initial contact will be supervised?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’d like to write her a letter, if that’s okay with you. There are some things I’d like to say to her, and I think a letter might be a good way to start. I’ll understand if you need to read it before she does.”

Her lips glistened and looked delicious, and Wyatt’s libido took serious notice. “Sure. I’ll text you my address.” He pushed the beer aside. “I should probably be going. I have an early flight in the morning.”

She stood up, and he lingered for a moment before he got to his feet. Suddenly, leaving didn’t seem like such a great idea. Stunned to realize how much he enjoyed her company and wanted more of it, Wyatt remained by the table and stared at her. The air between them grew thicker, hotter, as though some kind of seductive force had blown into the room.

She was closer now, barely a couple feet away. Close enough to touch if he reached for her. His fingertips tingled at the thought.

“Are you all right?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“I’m just …” He stopped. I’m just thinking about kissing you . “Nothing.” He pulled the car keys from his pocket and rattled them. “Thanks for the beer.”

“Thank you for dinner.”

“No problem. I’ll be in touch.”

She smiled. “Well, good night.”

“Good night, Fiona,” Wyatt said and got out of there as quickly as he could before he forgot all the reasons why he shouldn’t be attracted to her and did something really stupid.

“So, what’s she like?”

Wyatt had barely walked into the main house at Waradoon late the following afternoon when his mother corralled him with the question. He dropped his keys on the hall stand. “She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Janet Harper’s silvery brows rose swiftly. “That’s all?”

In no mood for the third degree, Wyatt uncharacteristically ignored his mother and headed for the big kitchen at the rear of the house. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and tossed the lid in the trash.

“Yeah … nice,” he said when he spotted his mother ten feet behind him, with her hands firmly on her hips.

“Have you agreed for her to meet Cecily?”

It hadn’t been a difficult decision. He instinctively knew Fiona was a good person. Despite also knowing she was holding something back, his concerns were minimal. It was unrealistic to think she’d simply lay her life open because he wanted answers. He could wait. In time he’d know everything about her. He’d make sure of it. “Eventually. Once I’ve talked with Cecily about it.”

“She’ll be home from her riding lesson soon. And full of questions. She’s almost jumping out of her skin over this.” Janet’s voice dropped an octave. “I hope this woman doesn’t—”

“She has a name,” he said quietly. “And don’t stress—you’ll like Fiona.”

Wyatt wished he didn’t like her as much as he did. He’d spent the past twenty-four hours thinking of little else.

And the fact I wanted to kiss her last night .

“Fiona,” his mother echoed, and he quickly got his thoughts back on track. “Yes. And she’s nice. So you keep saying.”

Wyatt frowned. His mother had way too much intuition for his liking. “Stop smiling.”

“I trust your judgment,” she said and sat at the long table. “If you say she’s nice, I’m sure she’s exactly that. You’ll do what’s right for Cecily and the family. You always do.”

Did he? He certainly hadn’t when he’d jumped into his relationship with Yvette. He’d invited her into his family and paid the price. But Wyatt understood the meaning of his mother’s words. He had every intention of ensuring Cecily’s well-being. And he wanted to protect Fiona, too. As for the family, they were all curious about Cecily’s birth mother, especially his sisters. He certainly wasn’t about to unleash them on an unsuspecting Fiona.

“Uncle Wyatt! You’re here!”

Cecily stood in the doorway dressed in her riding garb, and he was amazed how much she looked like her mother. Not her mother. That was Karen. Her birth mother .

She raced across the room and landed against him with a resounding thud.

He hugged her tightly. “Hey, kid, good to see you.”

“You, too,” she said on a rushed breath. “So, tell me everything. Did you see her, did you talk to her, does she want to meet me?”

“Yes, yes and yes.”

Cecily’s eyes filled with moisture. “Really? I can meet her. I can talk to her?”

Wyatt nodded. He knew Cecily was eager, but he also knew he needed to show caution and get her to take things slowly. “She’s going to write to you. Once she’s done that, you can make up your mind about what you want to do.”

Cecily pulled back and straightened her shoulders. “I already know what I want, Uncle Wyatt. I want to meet her. And soon.”

She gave a determined sniff and left the room to change and attend to her homework.

“I told you she was keen.”

Cecily wanted to meet her birth mother. Fiona wanted to reconnect with the child she’d given up. If it worked out, everyone would be happy. But if not, Wyatt could see the potential for disaster.