?
I got my answers two days after she had comeback to River Canyon. Two days after I promised her sister I’d keep mydistance, and I had, I swear. But I couldn’t do anything about the chancemeeting.
A fitting connection, considering our first.
I mean, we never had a choice. We never stood achance.
I had been walking through the aisles of theFisch Market with Meghan, stocking up on food for the house and the makings fors’mores. I remember turning toward the alcohol section to grab a six-pack ofBud when I saw her, picking up a case of that girly shite I could instantly seeher drinking. And you know, I had known she was back, but Christ, nothingprepared me for what it’d be like to see her again.
She was beautiful. Older, curvier in all theright places, and beautiful. So goddamn beautiful, I could barely keep myselftogether.
“Kinsey,” was all I could manage in a voice Ibarely recognized as my own.
Meghan looked up at me, eyes same color asmine, and they narrowed with scrutiny at the gruff strain in my tone.
Kinsey turned to look at me, appearing at oncecool and collected, yet panicked and uncertain. “Patrick.”
My knees locked at the sound of her voice. Thesound of my name rolling on her tongue, passing through her lips. Pulsing myheart back to life with the gnawing ache of having gone so long without it.
Her eyes shifted to the young girl at my side,then back at me, acknowledgement shadowing her face.
“Daddy?”
Right, introductions.
I untied my tongue, fighting my gaze to notstare at her and the figure that had only gotten better over the years. “Uh,Meghan, this is a,ehm, an old friend, Kinsey.” Ihated calling her my “old friend.” What an insult, what an understatement.“Kinsey, this is my daughter, Meghan.”
I don’t know what I had expected. There was noway she was going to have a knock-out fight with a nine-year-old, but I didn’texpect the smile to spread her lips. Her nice smile, not the forced one, and Isighed with relief.
“It’s nice to meet you, Meghan.”
“How do you know my dad?” Meghan narrowed hereyes at Kinsey with nine-year-old suspicion. Kids were so perceptive, Ilearned, and I wondered if she could sense why Kinsey had stiffened, why mypalms were starting to sweat.
“I’ve known your dad for a really long time. Wegrew up together.”
“Do you know my mom, too?”
Ah, Christ, I thought, wiping a hand over my mouth.“Meg …”
“I used to.” Kinsey didn’t miss a beat. Blessher.
“How come I’ve never seen you before?” Meghanasked, looking between the two of us with question.
“Oh,ehm—”
“I was away for a while,” Kinsey said, with thesame sweet smile, and Christ, I loved her then.
I loved her always.
“Oh, cool. But you’re back?” I shot a quickglance at the short, red-headed Queen of Twenty Questions, and I mentallyfist-bumped her for fishing for info.
“My dad is very sick right now.”
Kinsey smiled again—tighter, smaller—and sherevealed the sadness she had been covering. I knew about her father, the heartattack he had suffered, and I suspected that was where the need for booze hadcome in. I fought my feet to keep from moving forward, fought my arms fromwrapping around her.
The most I could allow was to incline my headtoward her. “I heard about your father. I’m sorry. If there’s anything I cando, just—”
“We’re fine, thanks,” she said with atight-lipped smile. The forced one.
