Blue Ridge Hideaway by Cynthia Thomason

Author:Cynthia Thomason
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

BRET WENT STRAIGHT to the kitchen and leaned against the counter while he turned on the faucet. Taking a deep gulp of air, he cupped his hands to catch the cool water and splash it on his face. The temperature in the cabin was comfortable, but suddenly he was burning up from the inside out.

He grabbed a dish towel and dried off, leaving a little dampness along his neck to cool it. What was happening to him? He’d gone out on the porch hoping she’d tell him she wanted to stay, but he hadn’t expected what he found. She’d looked so serene, so beautiful sitting on the swing.

The glow of the single bulb shining over her shoulder complemented her rosy cheeks, the gold of her hair. She looked as if she belonged in this world, in his life. He wanted nothing more than to join her, to put his arm around her and feel her curl into his side. When he finally worked up to the nerve to say what was on his mind, he hadn’t been able to use more than two words. “Don’t go.”

A week ago Dorinda Howe had come to him like a lost waif, determined and desperate, but never needy. But now, in only seven days, he was close to admitting that he needed her. She had begun to fill a hole in his life, one left by multiple tragedies, and one he’d tried to ignore for so long.

He was in trouble. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of his goals. She was leaving. She had problems he couldn’t tackle right now. He had a vision for his life with his son that he couldn’t, wouldn’t abandon.

Bret filled a glass with water and gulped it down. He didn’t hear Luke come into the kitchen.

“Dad, are you okay?”

He was trembling, so he set down the glass and clenched his hands. “I’m fine. Is the movie over?”

“Almost. I paused it to come down and get popcorn. Grandpa and I want some.”

“Did Dorie buy it at the store today?”

“Sure. She said every cool night needs either popcorn or hot chocolate.”

“She’s a smart lady,” Bret said. He found the box of microwave popcorn in the pantry and handed Luke a pouch. “You know how to make it?”

Luke gave him one of those looks, the kind a ten-year-old would give a clueless adult. “Dad, it’s microwavable.”

“Go for it, then.”

While the machine hummed and the corn began popping, Luke turned to Bret and said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Bobby Callahan from my class is coming over tomorrow to hang out.”

“Really?” Bret couldn’t believe his son had waited until this late hour to spring this important bit of news. “That’s great. Should I call his mother?”

“Don’t have to. I saw her after school in the pickup line. I told her I had a dad who would be here all day and a sort-of mom, too.”

“A ‘sort-of mom’? You’re referring to Dorie?” That was the second time the word mother had been used in reference to Dorie lately.

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