“I wonder where we got that from?”
“Your father. It’s always his fault.”
Cole laughed, picturing Ian Seamus Dennison’s response to this familiar casting of blame. “Yes, dear,” he would’ve drawled with a roll of his eyes he would’ve ensured his wife didn’t catch.
“Well, thank you for giving up your Saturday morning for me,” she said, releasing him after another squeeze.
“Anything for you, you know that. But what’s this about unpacking?” Cole asked, although he already suspected he knew the answer.
“That’s right. C’mon.”
She turned and headed toward the front door, leaving him to follow. Which he did. The coolness of the open, high-ceilinged lobby immediately welcomed him. The beautiful crystal chandelier that Leo had found at an antiques store a couple of towns over shone brightly overhead, reflecting off the dark, gleaming hardwood floors and staircase. Sunshine poured in through the huge picture windows of the living room that opened off the entryway.
But he didn’t pay much notice to the light or the warm charm of the place. No. Every sense, every damn cell of his body focused on the curvy, pregnant woman seated next to his sister Leontyne on the overstuffed couch in the middle of the room.
“Cole, you remember Sydney Collins, don’t you?”
His self-protective instincts screamed a blaring, banshee-like warning at him to keep his distance. To conjure up any excuse to throw his mother’s way—work, mayoral responsibilities, a zombie-fucking-apocalypse—to get out of here.
But then Sydney started to push to her feet and his own carried him swiftly across the lobby and into the living room; his hands, of their own volition, cupped her elbows, and helped her stand from the deep cushions, steadying her.
“Uh, thanks,” she said on a chuckle. That low contralto seemed too deep, too husky for such a petite woman. It caressed the skin bared by his short-sleeved T-shirt. “I’m not so far along yet that I can’t rise from chairs, but I appreciate the sentiment,” she teased.
The reference to her pregnancy scalded him, and before he could rethink what it would imply to her or his mother and sister, he snatched his hands away from her, dropping his arms back to his sides. And taking a step back.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Something flickered in her eyes, there and gone before he could decipher it. No doubt the same confusion that had dwelled there last night just before his abrupt departure. Or disgust. Hell, he was disgusted with himself.
“No worries,” she said, giving him a slight smile before turning to his mother. “Moe, I can’t thank you enough for accommodating me at the last minute. With summer and the rally so close, I know you have to be pretty booked. I doubt things have changed that much.”
Moe waved her gratitude away. “Nonsense. It was nothing but a word. Besides, the cottage was sitting empty, and you’re practically family.”
“No ‘practically’ about it.” Leo cradled Sydney’s baby bump. “I’m going to be an aunt to little Arwen or Aragorn here and plan on spoiling her or him rotten.”
Moe rolled her eyes. “Good Lord. She’s not naming her baby after some Lord of the Realms characters.”
“Lord of the Rings, Mom. Seriously? Whose child am I?”
Cole ignored their byplay, focusing on nothing but “accommodating me at the last minute.” Apprehension skated down his spine. “You’re staying here?” Yeah, he was a coward. But it didn’t change the fact that avoiding her would be a hell of a lot harder if she was booked into his family’s inn for the foreseeable future.
“She’s renting one of our cottages. The one down the road from yours, actually,” Moe informed him.
Well, damn.
“Which is why we need your help,” Leo added, unaware of his panic. His sister slung an arm around Sydney’s shoulders and hugged her. “We need your big muscles instead of your big brain today. Call it your civic duty, Mr. Mayor.” She scrutinized his arms. “Well, biggish muscles.” Her brow crinkled in a mock frown. “Well... Ah, never mind. You’ll do.”
Any other time, he would’ve snapped an equally derisive comeback as that was how siblings exhibited their undying affection for one another, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but stand there and mentally scramble for a reason why his mother shouldn’t rent Sydney one of the properties that would place her in much-too-close-for-his-sanity proximity.
But he suspected She makes me fucking feel wouldn’t fly with Moe. On second thought, it just might. And seeing that hopeful light enter his mother’s eyes only to watch it extinguish would break him.
The only other choice would be moving back to the house he’d shared with Tonia. Back to the house and the empty, decorated nursery.
So, yeah, he was shit out of luck.
And stuck.
“It’s okay, really,” Sydney said, glancing at him before shifting her gaze to his sister and then to his mother. “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I didn’t bring that much with me. Just what I could manage to stuff in my car. Between Wolf, Sonny and Leo, we should have everything covered.”
“Nonsense. What’s the purpose of having brothers if I can’t put them to use? And I refuse to let my recently returned best friend—who has a lot of explaining to do about why she didn’t let me know sooner that she was coming home—tire herself out.” Leo batted away Sydney’s objections with a flick of her hand. “But I mean it. As soon as you get settled. Girls’ night. Wine for me, Moe’s special non-alcoholic cocktails for you, caramel popcorn and movies. Just like old times.”
Leo’s plans slid right over Cole’s head, because he’d latched onto Sydney’s words and they were all he could hear.
She didn’t want his help—didn’t want him there.
Not that he could blame her. Shame and anger clutched his gut. Twisted it. What kind of man had he become? One who makes an innocent woman feel unwelcome and uncomfortable because of your own hang-ups and issues. The answer echoed in his head like a struck gong.
It wasn’t her fault that she’d dragged his body out of hibernation kicking and screaming.
Wasn’t her fault that guilt streamed through his veins like a caustic acid.
“No, I’m glad to help,” he murmured. Then turning away before she could—rightfully—tell him to go home, he kicked his chin up at Moe. “Where’s Wolf?”
“He’s loading up his truck with some food I’m sending over with Sydney,” she replied, studying him in the same contemplative manner that had dragged the truth out of him the first time he and Tonia had sex all those years ago. The CIA could uncover secrets of states, nuclear codes and the location of Jimmy Hoffa’s body with her stare. She was dangerous.