Authors: Rachel Ann Nunes
“It’s
Mic
kelle, Dad,” Belle said.
“But Kelle sounds good, don’t you think?” he asked. “Kind of like Belle.”
Belle began to smile. “Kelle, Belle.” She looked up at Mickelle. “I like it, don’t you?”
Mickelle nodded. “Yes, I do.” In fact, she was very touched that Damon had given her a nickname as he had everyone else close to him.
Tanner rolled his eyes. “He’s always doing that. I’m going to go through my life as something everyone else is trying to do to their skin.” That provoked more laughter, even from Bryan, who had been unusually silent since they had arrived at the lot.
An hour later, Mickelle and Damon both left the lot in their respective cars. “Are they coming over for ice cream?” Jeremy asked, watching the Wolfes drive away in their new dark-green Lexus.
“I don’t know.” Mickelle had been so caught up in buying the new car that she’d forgotten to confirm anything.
“He said he’d play basketball with me,” Jeremy said.
“Maybe he forgot.” Bryan’s face was grim. “Or maybe he’s too tired.”
Mickelle’s heart ached for her children. How could she have allowed this to happen? If Damon didn’t appear, maybe she would dispense with a proper bedtime and take them to her parents’ house to see her dad. On the way they could grab a hamburger, if she could scrape together enough money.
Mickelle drove straight home, and once there began to stack the dried plates and cups in the cupboard. Not for the first time, she wished for a dishwasher where she could leave the dishes out of sight until she needed to reload.
The boys were outside with the basketball, just in case, but Damon and his children didn’t appear. She was reaching for the phone to call her parents when she heard a shout from outside. The kitchen door burst open and the boys, followed by Belle, Damon, and Tanner, filed inside.
“They got us hamburgers,” Jeremy said, his thin face beaming. “That’s why they took so long.”
“We got ice cream, too,” Belle announced. “Shakes. With chocolate cookies in them.”
Mickelle was almost speechless, but the tight feeling that gripped her heart began to relax. She looked at Damon gratefully.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I know you already had ice cream. But a hamburger just isn’t as good without an Oreo shake.”
“Hey, fewer plates to wash.” Mickelle smiled at him, and a tingly feeling spread throughout her body. “So do I get one of those shakes?”
After a blessing, the children devoured the food and ran outside to play basketball. Mickelle and a newly T-shirted Damon soon joined them. Mickelle noticed that Bryan’s resentment had seemed to fade, and she was grateful that Damon had remembered his promise. Her sons had already experienced enough disappointment in their short lives.
Darkness crept over them before she realized how much time had passed. Damon glanced at his watch. “Okay kids, in the car. We have to go.”
“What about your other car?” asked Bryan.
Damon frowned in the direction of the Mercedes. “I’ll have to get that another day.”
“I can drive it to your house sometime,” Mickelle offered. “It’s only fair, since I’ve been using it. Although that means you’d have to bring me back.”
“I don’t mind. When do you want to do it?”
Mickelle laughed. “How about right now? It’s kind of looking like a used car lot around here.”
“Can we go too?” Jeremy asked.
“No,” Mickelle decided. “You guys get ready for bed. When I get home, we’ll have prayer.” She propelled him gently to the door. “Get going now. Bryan, you’re in charge.”
Mickelle followed Damon to his house, regretting the loss of the Mercedes. She would miss driving it. The leather interior and smell reminded her of Damon—comforting and exciting at the same time. While the new Geo was nice, it didn’t give her anywhere near the same feeling.
In Alpine, Damon sent his children to get ready for bed, promising to return quickly. Belle hugged Mickelle goodbye. “This was the best family night ever,” she whispered before obeying her father’s request.
Damon opened the passenger door of the new Lexus and helped Mickelle inside. They drove silently through the sleeping town until they arrived at her house. Damon killed the engine before going around to open her door. “I hope the boys aren’t watching TV,” she mused as they strolled up the cement walk.
He laughed. “Or playing DS.”
Mickelle’s hand went to her doorknob, but she didn’t open it. “Thank you for tonight, Damon,” she said softly. “I appreciate it.” She took a deep breath and plunged on. “I want you to know that we won’t keep you every night when you come to pick up the kids.” She gave a short laugh, silently wishing she could do just that. They had almost seemed like a real family.
“Kelle, I—” He broke off, as though unsure of what he would say. He stepped closer, and she could smell the musky scent of his cologne.
Though she was tall, he was taller still, and she felt odd looking up into his face when it was so close. Her breath came more rapidly, and her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. Her face flushed, and her vision blurred until she could barely make out his face.
I’m having a panic attack,
she thought desperately.
I thought I was through with those!
His arms slipped round her as he pressed his lips against hers, achingly tender at first and then with more intensity. She realized then that her reaction wasn’t a panic attack at all, but a response to Damon’s nearness. Closing her eyes, she kissed him back, admitting to herself that she had been waiting for this moment for days. He murmured her name. She could feel his moustache as his mouth glided from her lips to her cheek and down to her throat. Then he kissed every inch of skin back up to her lips, leaving a trail that set fire to her heart. She sighed, wanting nothing more than to surrender herself to the bliss of the moment, his touch, the feeling of family they had shared this evening.
“Kelle,” he murmured, the name a hot whisper against her cheek. She could taste the salt on his skin, smell the maleness of him. “You are so beautiful tonight. That blue dress . . . It’s better than all that black.”
“Damon,” she whispered, but the name came out with difficulty as she recalled her intimate moments with Riley.
What on earth was she doing? She knew better than to toy with such fire. She pulled abruptly away.
He kept his arms loosely about her, gazing into her eyes with a forcefulness that frightened her. “Kelle, I think I’m falling in love with you.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. “I think I’ve been falling in love with you ever since I saw you on my porch, soaked to the skin, glaring at me like you wanted to kill me.”
“Damon, I . . .” She wanted to say how much she enjoyed being with him, how she had longed for his kiss, how she suspected she was also falling in love with him, but she couldn’t. Something inside her rebelled at giving her heart away again. How well did she really know him after only a week? She thought she had known Riley.
“What about Rebekka?” she managed.
Damon sighed. “I think that as hard as we try, Bekka and I will only be friends. Don’t you think that after living under the same roof for five months, we should have progressed past the first date? Belle had a lot to do with the delay, certainly, but if we had truly been meant for each other, we would have made time to be together. At work, for instance.” He cupped her chin with his hand, softly stroking her skin with his thumb. “Bekka is a beautiful and intelligent person, but you are the woman I’ve dreamed of meeting.”
“Damon,” she protested, pulling her face away from his touch. “I—I’m not ready for this. Please, let me go.”
He dropped his hands immediately. “I don’t understand. When I kissed you . . .” He bent his head as though to kiss her again, but Mickelle backed up against the door, fighting both panic and the contradictory urge to fall into his arms. She pushed her fists against his chest.
He stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “All right. Don’t worry. I won’t force you. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
His face was so defenseless that Mickelle wanted to throw herself against him, to hold him like he wanted to hold her. Instead, she stared at the cement porch beneath their feet. “My husband . . . it hasn’t been even five months . . . I’m just not ready. I can’t—”
I can’t lose myself again. I worked too hard to find me.
She couldn’t say any of that aloud, but she felt instinctively that Damon was too dangerous to love. He would demand her whole heart, and she simply couldn’t give it. She had done so once already, and had nearly lost her will to live.
“Kelle.” His gentle tone encouraged her to look up at him. “It’s all right. You just let me know when you’re ready, okay? I trust your judgment.” He reached out and briefly squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She wanted to yell after him that she would never be ready, that he should marry Rebekka and move to France where she would never see him again, but the memory of his kiss and the fire in her veins stopped her. For a moment, she had found heaven in his arms. Could any of that be maintained on a daily basis? When she was fixing his dinners and washing his clothes, would she resent it as she had with Riley, or would she treasure the service as other women seemed to do?
Her fingers went to her still-burning lips, and her heart ached with longing. What did she really want?
* * * * *
Damon drove home slowly, pondering Mickelle’s reaction. She had responded to his kisses, yet only moments later, her eyes had shown fear. He felt helpless. What should he do next? Certainly the moment had been pivotal for him. He knew they had something good and right, something they shouldn’t let slip through their fingers.
She was so beautiful, like a butterfly that had cast off its dull black shell and emerged into the light. Her presence filled him with a sense of well-being. Of rightness. His gut reaction told him they belonged together. Forever.
Somehow he had to find a way to convince her. Couldn’t she see they’d been destined to meet? He felt it now as strongly as he’d ever felt anything. They got along well—more than well. They were both members of the same faith. He was attracted to her, and he knew she felt a similar attraction. He enjoyed her children; they needed a father. She loved Belle; Belle needed a mother. Tanner did, too. He had plenty of money to take care of both families. Above all, he really cared for Mickelle. So why weren’t they together, discussing possibilities for the future?
Her husband . . .
Had she been so in love with him that to love another would desecrate his memory?
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. When Charlotte had first taken ill, he had vowed never to remarry, though Charlotte hadn’t asked for his promise. She’d told him he needed a companion almost as much as the children needed a mother. For most of their married life, Charlotte had been too sick to be either of those things.
Now, most unexpectedly, there was Mickelle, whose bright eyes and kind heart had found a place in his life. His soul swelled with love and tenderness, and he blessed the day Tanner had smashed into her car. That ugly old Snail. But what if she couldn’t return his love?
I can’t give her up.
He had waited a long time to find Mickelle, but while he wouldn’t give her up easily, he wouldn’t rush her, either. He would put a strong rein on the heady emotions she had unleashed within him, and show her that he was a man she could depend on. A man who would eventually marry her. A man with patience.
He sighed, envisioning her stormy blue eyes. It wouldn’t be easy.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Marc spent Monday night in a hotel in Salt Lake City. It had taken over five minutes to find the right phrases in his guidebook to let the taxi driver know his wishes, and another ten to settle things with the clerk at the hotel, but overall Marc was pleased with himself. Getting along in a foreign country wasn’t as impossible as it had appeared.
He wanted to call Rebekka immediately, but had no idea where she was staying. They had always communicated by e-mail, and though he’d asked her for her phone number a few times, she had never given it to him. Brionney would know where she was, and he did have that number because she kept in contact with her brother in France, but he hesitated to call her so late. The next morning would be soon enough.
So he called France instead, where it was early morning, to let his family know he had arrived in Utah safely. Then he went to bed and dreamed all night of Rebekka walking down the aisle, and of himself arriving too late to stop the wedding.
* * * * *
“I’m sorry for the awkwardness of the situation,” Damon said, looking uncomfortable. He adjusted his tie, though it was already straight. “I really didn’t expect to feel this way about her, and I thought it only fair to tell you.”
Rebekka sighed and sat in the chair opposite Damon’s desk. She had seen it coming, seen the way Damon had looked at Mickelle, but still the blow left her reeling. “It’s okay,” she muttered. “I understand.”
“Even so, I’m sorry. I never meant to lead you on.”
She met his eyes then. “You didn’t, Damon.” She forced a smile. “We’ve had fun anyway, haven’t we?”
“Yeah. I worry about Belle, though, now that she’s finally coming around.”
“There’s the piano, and even if you do get another teacher, I’ll stay in touch. Besides, with Mickelle, she probably won’t need me for long.”
“Thank you, Rebekka.” Damon’s words were sincere. “You’re a wonderful woman. I mean that.”
Then why am I alone?
Rebekka stifled the retort. She knew in her heart that Damon had chosen wisely. Mickelle was the sort of motherly woman he needed for his children. A woman who enjoyed making a home and caring for others. Rebekka, on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted.
Damon leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “You know, for a moment last night I wanted to ask her to marry me.”
“So soon?” Rebekka raised her eyebrows. “Not a good idea.”