A Man Not Her Own Read online

  How many times had she wished she belonged to a real family? That she had a real father? Not all those “uncles” who passed through her mom’s sordid life, but a real honest-to-goodness dad.

  Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes. Damn, she was not going to cry any more. Her mother was dead. In a way, it was a relief, yet that didn’t stop Lindsey from feeling guilty. She should feel sadder about her mother’s death—really, she should.

  Truth was, she didn’t.

  Dana Jones had never wanted to be saddled with a kid, and she never let Lindsey forget that fact.

  So if her mother hadn’t wanted her, why had she lied and said Mitch was dead? Dana had obviously known he was the father. Why hadn’t she contacted him and let him have custody?

  Lindsey brushed away the tears, flopped down on the bed and punched her pillow. She’d never understand grownups, or trust them either.

  After the funeral, in desperate need of money, Lindsey had searched through her mom’s stuff and found her birth certificate with Mitch’s name on it. She’d also found a picture of her mom posing with a man holding a guitar. Mitch’s name was scribbled on the back.

  Curious, Lindsey googled Mitch Defalco on a computer at the library. She couldn’t believe he was alive and still living in Los Angeles. Well, she needed money to survive. She would not become a foster child trapped in that god-awful system, and she refused to follow in her mother’s slutty footsteps.

  That’s why Lindsey was where she was now. In a beautiful house. With a father. A father who looked like a hoodlum—he wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle, and always needed a shave. But Lindsey had noticed that her eyes and his eyes looked the same. And oh, my God! She and her new aunt Judith were the same height and had the exact same hair color.

  Lindsey knew in her heart of hearts, she was giving Mitch a hard time. Well, so what? He deserved it. He’d refused to give her money and forced her to stay with him. But why? He hadn’t exactly been overjoyed to find out he had a daughter.

  Somehow, Lindsey couldn’t forgive him for not knowing about her. He should have known he had a daughter, damn it.

  He just should have known.

  ****

  Sarah should have known life was running too smoothly—that something would happen to screw things up. No matter how safe she played it, trouble always seemed to creep up behind and bite her on the butt.

  After walking Josh to school, she had continued on to work. A slight chill in the early morning breeze whispered memories of the past frigid weather. On this early March morning, however, the West Texas sky was blue and clear, with a few puffy clouds scattered across the vast expanse. A beautiful spring day.

  Sarah unlocked the door to her store, The Music Shoppe. Automatically reversing the “closed” sign to “open,” she switched on the lights and looked around. Everything appeared to be in order—unlike her life.

  Sarah frowned. Three days had passed since Mitch Defalco moved in next door. Oh, he hadn’t bothered or disturbed her in any way—correction—in any neighborly way. He had certainly disturbed her in a personal sort of way. And that scared her more than it should.

  In the back room, Sarah stuffed her purse in the cupboard and made coffee. When the coffee maker stopped gurgling, she poured a cup and walked out to the main part of the shop. Standing at the front window, she sipped her coffee and watched Main Street come to life.

  Across the street, Nancy Prescott unlocked the door to her hair salon. Maybe Sarah would go over to the Mane Event and chat for a bit. She liked Nancy—she was friendly and outgoing. Her daughter, Beth, was friendly, too.

  Sarah smiled. Beth Callahan always had a project going. She drove the county bookmobile and had helped raise enough money to build the new library in town. Her daughter, Maggie, was in Josh’s class at school.

  Sarah swiped her hair back from her face. Walking to work in the brisk breeze had done a number on her hair. Maybe it was time for a trim. Maybe a new hairstyle would help make her feel better.

  She needed something, because for the past three days, she hadn’t been herself. She’d been edgy and restless. Seeing Mitch again—knowing he was living next door—had brought back memories of that unsettling time when her sister had died sixteen years ago.

  Sarah finished her coffee and rinsed out the cup. Things were pretty quiet. No one was likely to come in at this hour. Making a quick decision, she taped a note to the window and was out the door, purse on her shoulder, determination in her stride.

  Inside the beauty shop, Nancy sat in one of the salon chairs, a glass of orange juice in one hand, the morning paper in the other. “Good morning,” she said. “What brings you across the street so bright and early?” She set her paper down, but didn’t bother getting up. The Mane Event was a laid-back establishment, only open three days a week. Nancy and her husband were semi-retired. She said the beauty shop kept her from getting bored. Plus it kept her from killing Walter.

  Sarah hung her purse on a hook and picked up one of the styling books Nancy kept in the waiting area. “I want you to cut my hair.”

  “The usual?” Nancy got out of her chair and came forward. “Shape it up and trim the ends?”

  Sarah flipped through the book. “No, something different. New. Maybe drastic.” Something that would help ease the restlessness she was feeling.

  Nancy started running her fingers through Sarah’s flyaway hair. “The last time we tried something new, you weren’t too pleased. You’re just now getting a little length. You sure you want to mess with the progress you’ve made?”

  “No... Yes... I don’t know. Something’s got to change, though.”

  Nancy patted Sarah’s shoulder in a motherly way. “You still talking about your hair, dear?”

  “Of course, what else?”

  “I was thinking that it’s bound to be hard for you with Mitch Defalco moving next door. I’ve heard he wasn’t a very nice boy growing up. Didn’t he date your sister? And didn’t she run off and get killed after he left Stone Creek?”

  Sarah gripped the edges of the stylebook. “Yes, but it had nothing to do with Mitch. They broke up months before she died. She certainly wasn’t nursing a broken heart, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Hmmm, that’s not the story I’ve been hearing. What really happened?”

  Talking about her sister was difficult. Sarah took a deep breath. “Jeanie was always wild. After high school, she got worse. She didn’t exactly run off; she would disappear for days at a time. She started hanging out with a rough crowd up in Lubbock. One night at a party, she got caught in the middle of a fight and was accidentally shot.”

  “Oh my.” Nancy patted her shoulder again. “I didn’t mean to upset you, dear. I shouldn’t have said anything about it. Come on back and let me wash your hair. You can relax, and then I’ll show you a style that you’re bound to love.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should wait,” Sarah said. “Rushing into things usually ends in disaster for me.”

  Nancy took the book from her and tossed it on the table.

  “Honey, sometimes it’s best to give in to impulse. I think you’re right—you do need a change.”

  ****

  An hour later, Sarah was back at The Music Shoppe, sorting pieces of music, listening to the sound track of Phantom of the Opera, singing along, feeling somewhat better. A new hairstyle, if it worked, always helped boost a woman’s morale.

  The bell on the door jingled, and in rushed Beth Callahan, one of Sarah’s good friends.

  “Ooo, I like your hair,” Beth said. “I was across the street, and Mom said she’d cut and styled your hair, so naturally I had to come right over and see for myself. Turn around. Let me see the back.”

  Sarah pirouetted in front of Beth. She put her hand up to feel the jagged edges of her new cut. “How does it look?”

  “It’s adorable! I’d do the same, except my hair is way too curly. Besides, Trevor would kill me if I cut it. He likes it long.”
/>   “Most men do,” Sarah said with a smile.

  “Yes, they do. Listen, I wanted to tell you Maggie won’t be in this afternoon for piano lessons. She’s sick, so I kept her home. Bonita’s taking care of her while I run my route.”

  “Poor Maggie. What does she have?”

  “Sniffles and a low-grade fever. Hopefully, nothing more than that.” Beth leaned over and hugged Sarah. “Okay, I’ve got to scoot. Today’s bookmobile day. I have a lot of books to deliver.”

  Sarah walked Beth to the door. She waved to her friend, then glanced up and down and across the street. Suddenly, her heart lurched in her throat.

  Mitch Defalco and his sister, Judith, stood in front of the empty office space next to the beauty shop. Judith removed the For Lease sign and handed it to Mitch. Then she kissed her brother’s cheek and walked toward her realtor’s office three doors down. Mitch disappeared inside for a moment then reappeared. He straddled his motorcycle, revved the motor and roared down the street and out of sight.

  Sarah shut the door and leaned against it. Oh great. Wasn’t it bad enough Mitch Defalco had moved in next door? Now, he would be working across the street, too. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t need this. Really, she didn’t.

  Chapter Two

  Mitch waited in the parking lot of the high school where he’d enrolled Lindsey earlier that morning. He hoped the day had gone okay for her. Damn, he wasn’t used to worrying about anyone other than himself. For years, he’d deliberately kept people at arm’s length. It was better that way. Safer.

  The school bell blared, the doors burst open, and immediately the parking lot flooded with teenagers. Standing by his motorcycle, Mitch searched the crowd for a slender blonde girl with attitude. He still couldn’t believe Lindsey was his kid. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember her mother. It was a sad testament to how his life used to be—still would be now if he hadn’t had the accident.

  The crowd cleared fast, with kids quickly getting in cars and hot-rodding out of the parking lot. Some things never changed. Mitch swung a leg over the seat and straddled his bike. He glanced at his watch, then at the double doors. Where the hell was Lindsey?

  He’d give her five minutes and then go looking. A bad feeling festered in the pit of his stomach. Damn, this parenting gig sucked big time.

  Finally, the doors opened and Lindsey walked out alone, shoulders slumped beneath the weight of her backpack, not smiling. She never smiled.

  Lindsey trudged over to the bike, looking at it with disgust. “You really ought to get a car, Mitch.”

  Without saying anything else, she climbed on behind him and fastened her helmet in place.

  Mitch waited for her to latch on to his jacket. She never held on any closer. He realized he’d never hugged her. Would she accept a hug?

  Get real, Defalco. Lindsey doesn’t want to be here with you.

  When she’d first shown up on his doorstep, she had only wanted cash. If he hadn’t threatened dire consequences, she’d have been long gone.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she grabbed the sides of his jacket. He turned his head, so he could see her. “You okay?”

  “Just peachy-keen.”

  “How’d school go?”

  She shrugged. “It went.”

  Nothing more. Typical of one of their stilted conversations. “Need anything before we go to the house?” Not home. Not yet. However, Mitch was determined to make it a home. From what little she’d told him, Lindsey had lived a god-awful life with her mother—moving around all the time, never settling anywhere.

  Mitch vowed to make it up to his daughter. Some way, some how, he would make it up to her. Make things right.

  Lindsey hadn’t answered him yet. Usual pattern. He was beginning to get used to asking her things several times. “Lindsey, you need anything?”

  Another pause. Mitch counted to ten. He would not lose his temper. Her hands tightened on his jacket.

  “I saw a music store in town,” she finally said. “I need to stop there for something.”

  Mitch twisted around to see her better. “What do you need?”

  “What is this?” she asked. “The Spanish Inquisition?”

  “It was only a question. I’m your father, for crying out loud.”

  “Humph. Some father.”

  He decided to let that pass. “I want to do what’s best for you, whether you believe that or not.

  She glared at him. “Whatever.”

  Mitch started the bike and tore out of the parking lot. He needed to talk to his mother. Soon. He was getting nowhere with Lindsey and didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

  Five minutes and they turned on to Main Street, heading for The Music Shoppe. Mitch had noticed it this morning when he’d signed the lease for his photography studio. When he left California, he had abandoned a thriving business. Shooting photos of celebrities and their kids paid big bucks. He hoped he could make a decent living in Stone Creek.

  Mitch pulled to a stop and Lindsey hopped off the motorcycle before he cut the motor. Stripping off the helmet, she skipped to the door and disappeared inside. Skipping? She usually slumped around like the world was her enemy. Another thing Mitch desperately wanted to fix.

  Entering the shop, the first thing he saw was his usually silent daughter talking animatedly to a woman whose back was to the door. Lindsey was smiling, gesturing with her hands and sounding enthusiastic.

  What a change. Could his daughter possess a love of music that transcended time and place and circumstance? He could certainly relate to that. He’d been the same way a long time ago.

  Before the accident.

  ****

  Sarah was amazed at the actual cheerfulness Lindsey Defalco was showing. Such a difference in attitude from when she’d first met her. The girl obviously loved music. Just like her father.

  Speaking of which... Sarah knew without turning around that Mitch had come to stand close by. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and tingles shot up and down her spine.

  Interesting. Terrifying. Familiar.

  She’d had a crush on Mitch when he had dated Jeanie. After that, Sarah had always been attracted to bad boys. And look what had happened as a result.

  “Mrs. Cooper, do you think you can help me?”

  Sarah shook away the unnerving thoughts and focused on what Lindsey was asking her. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

  The girl readjusted the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. “Could you give me French horn lessons? I’d like to be in the Solo and Ensemble Competition and Mrs. Harvey, the band teacher, said I could. I played for her this morning and she said I’m pretty good, but you could help me get better.”

  Mitch moved forward. “You play the French horn?”

  His deep velvet voice slid along Sarah’s nerve endings. Not good. Mitch Defalco was the baddest of the bad. Ignoring the feelings, she watched Lindsey immediately shut down. The girl’s enthusiasm turned to sullenness.

  Sarah shot a peek at Mitch’s reaction and wished she hadn’t. He looked lost and vulnerable; so different from his usual cocky self.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you played the French horn?” Mitch asked his daughter.

  Lindsey shrugged and turned away to examine the brass instrument accessories. Her belligerent attitude descended on her shoulders like a cloak.

  Mitch dug his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans and took a deep breath. Trying to gather his confidence, dignity? Something else?

  Sarah was surprised when he snagged her gaze and motioned with his head for them to step away. She followed him over to the guitars and amps. He didn’t say anything for a moment and she was at a loss as to what to do. Something was not right with this picture and all of her mothering instincts rose to the surface.

  Mitch raked his hand through his dark hair. “I... uh, I’d appreciate it if you could help her any way you can. If she wants lessons, then she’ll have them. Should I buy her
a French horn?”

  “Probably not yet,” Sarah said, silently cursing the butterflies tumbling in her stomach. Good grief, she hadn’t seen or thought about Mitch Defalco in years. She cleared her throat. “The school provides them for free, since they’re so expensive and difficult to play. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have many French horn players. And without French horns, it’s impossible to play any major band literature or any of the orchestral repertoire.” Good lord, she was babbling. She never babbled.

  Mitch shot her a strange look. Lifting his hand to stroke the neck of a guitar, he jerked it back as if he’d been scorched.

  “Do you still play?” Sarah asked, before she could stop herself.

  “No.” He quickly turned his back to the guitars. “Will you give Lindsey lessons?”

  Sarah held her tongue. He didn’t play anymore? Music had been his passion. What in the world could have happened to make him give it up? The man had always been an enigma. Still was, in fact. “Let me check my monthly planner,” she said. “I’ll see where I can fit her in.”

  When she walked past, Mitch took hold of her elbow. “Sarah?”

  His touch was warm, almost hot, the way he’d said her name, disturbing. Sarah pulled away and faced him. “Yes?”

  He searched her face, his dark brown eyes probing. “I was sorry to hear about Jeanie.”

  Sarah didn’t say anything for a minute. Had he actually loved her sister? They had been a hot item during their last year of high school, but Mitch had broken up with Jeanie before graduation. As soon as he’d received his diploma, he’d shaken the dust from his cowboy boots and headed off to Nashville to seek fortune and fame with his music.

  “Sarah?”

  When he moved closer, she quickly stepped back. He frowned. “I know you must still miss your sister. To die so young... She’ll always hold a special place in my heart.”

  “Yes, well... thanks. Now about those lessons for Lindsey.”