The Hero's Sin (Return to Indigo Springs 01) by Darlene Gardner

Author:Darlene Gardner [Gardner, Darlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Women, General
ISBN: 9781408950333
Google: Kl9E_JQ7oewC
Amazon: B009124WV6
Publisher: Mills & Boon
Published: 2012-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

FOR THE second time in his life, Michael waited on the doorstep of the large, elegant Victorian house where Quincy Coleman lived alone.

The first time, Michael had been a nervous seventeen-year-old kid, Mr. Coleman’s wife hadn’t yet left him and Chrissy had been a pretty girl Michael wanted to know better.

Mr. Coleman had answered the door, dressed in a suit as though he’d just come from work. Michael remembered stammering when he introduced himself and not mustering enough poise to offer the older man his hand.

Coleman wouldn’t have taken it anyway.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming around my daughter,” Coleman had said through clenched teeth. “You don’t belong here. Just leave and don’t come back.”

Before Michael could say a word, Coleman had slammed the door in his face.

The chilly reception hadn’t come entirely as a surprise. Chrissy had warned him her father was a snob who vehemently opposed her dating a high-school kid straight out of juvenile detention.

Not getting a chance to stick up for himself and explain his determination to turn his life around had rankled, making Michael more resolute than ever to pursue the man’s daughter.

He used to wait near the big oak tree in the backyard for Chrissy to sneak out of the house. She’d been more sexually experienced than Michael so he never felt like he was taking advantage of her. One time they’d done it under the tree with the full moon shining down on them.

A part of him had hoped Coleman would look out his bedroom window that night and catch them in the act.

Michael had grown up in the last nine years, but enough of that teenage defiance remained that he stood straight and proud on the porch steps he’d been told never again to cross.

He rang the doorbell once more, pressing for a full ten seconds. No answer. Michael still wasn’t prepared to concede that Coleman wasn’t home.

Determination fueling his steps, he left the porch and circled the house. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He’d learned you couldn’t solve a problem by skulking in the shadows. The only way to tackle one was head-on.

The spacious backyard extended into a thicket of woods. It was as deserted as the front, but bits of grass stuck to the bottoms of Michael’s shoes and the lawn had that just-mowed smell. A sidewalk led from the rear porch to a detached garage a good distance from the main house.

Michael had a side view of the garage but could see Coleman’s silver Cadillac parked in the driveway. He approached the free-standing building, finding the tilt-up door standing wide-open.

The interior of the garage was fastidiously kept, with tools hanging from pegboard and old kitchen cabinets lining a side wall. An off-road motorcycle, a lawn mower and a mountain bike occupied one half of the parking space. On the empty half, Coleman, dressed in an old pair of khakis and a T-shirt, dumped clippings from his mower bag into a tall yard-waste bag.

Coleman looked up, some of the clippings falling on the floor.

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