A Man Not Her Own Read online

  Two days later, Lindsey was back to normal. Mitch would never have guessed he’d actually be glad to see his daughter’s bad attitude and long-suffering sighs, but he was. He hoped like hell he never had to go through another forty-eight hours like that again.

  The next week flew by and on Sunday afternoon, Mitch pulled to a stop in front of Defalco’s Restaurant. There were no customers today, because the place was closed. Lindsey hopped off the motorcycle and disappeared inside before Mitch removed his helmet. He grinned. The kid was something else, bouncing back to health like that.

  He dismounted, hung his helmet on the handlebars and followed Lindsey inside the empty restaurant. Chairs were stacked on the tables, no candles were burning and the lights were turned on bright.

  “Hey, Uncle Marco,” Lindsey said, stopping for a moment in front of the bar.

  “Hey, doll face. Grandma’s waiting for you.”

  “Thanks. See you, Mitch.” She pushed through the double doors, leading to the kitchen. Vivian Defalco had invited Lindsey over to help bake cinnamon rolls and cheesecake. They would have a grandmother/granddaughter bake-athon, she’d said. Viv had taken to her new granddaughter like a duck to water. And Lindsey was finally beginning to relax and enjoy having a grandmother. Mitch walked over and sat at the bar. Marco puttered around, checking the whiskey inventory, getting ready for the new week.

  “Lindsey’s still calling you Mitch.” Marco placed a tall glass of orange juice in front of his brother, then went back to his inventory.

  Mitch sipped the drink. “You heard her. What do you think?”

  “I think it sucks, that’s what I think. What are you doing to her? She should be calling you ‘dad’, by now.”

  “Thank you, Mister I’m-never-getting-married-and-having-kids. You’re one to talk.”

  “Hey, I don’t see a wedding band on your finger, buster.”

  Mitch shrugged. “Yeah, well.”

  Marco wiped the counter with a bar rag until it gleamed in the sunshine streaming through the windows. “Maybe Ma’s right. Maybe it is time for one of us to settle down. You already have the kid. What you need now is a wife.”

  Mitch nearly choked on the juice. “My hands are full with Lindsey right now. A woman would complicate things.”

  “A wife could help you out. Women have that maternal instinct.”

  Mitch stared at his brother. “What are you? A shrink or something?”

  Marco grinned and spread his hands wide. “Hey, I got my degree. Plus, I’m a bartender. Giving advice goes with the territory.”

  “Well, practice on someone else. I don’t need your advice.”

  “Oh ho, but I think you do.” Marco placed a tray of olives, cherries, pineapple and pearl onions on the bar. “What about the music lady?”

  Mitch drained his glass. “The music lady?”

  Marco nodded as he refilled the sections of the tray that were low. “You know? Your next-door neighbor? Owns The Music Shoppe over on Main.”

  “You mean Sarah?”

  “Yeah, that’s her name. Sarah.” He poured Mitch more juice. “She looked hot the other night when you brought her in for dinner. And she already knows about being a mother with that little boy of hers. Lindsey seemed to be having a good time. First time I saw the kid laughing. Make a move on this Sarah.”

  “I can’t make a move on Sarah. Christ! I dated her sister. Slept with her sister.”

  “So what? That’s ancient history. You weren’t in love with her, were you?”

  “No, but still...”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “It has disaster written all over it, that’s what. Besides, I’m not the right kind of man for Sarah.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. I don’t think I’ll ever get married.”

  “That’s a bunch of malarkey,” Marco said. “You may have been the town hoodlum when you were young, but you were smart enough to clean up your act. You gave up the drugs and hell, you gave up the booze, too. You’ve been clean as a friggin’ whistle for the last ten years or more. Why wouldn’t you want to find a nice woman and settle down? You have Lindsey to think about now.”

  Mitch scowled. “You sound like Ma.”

  Marco grinned again. “I do, don’t I? She’s right, you know. Sooner or later, a man’s got to settle down. Don’t want to grow old alone.”

  “Go to hell, Marco.”

  “Yeah. Right back atcha, bro.”

  Mitch sipped more of his drink, thinking over what Marco had said. “I can’t marry a nice woman like Sarah. Hell, I’m having enough trouble trying to be a father. And I’m doing a crappy job at that. Lindsey blames me for what happened. We barely talk, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  Marco put the newly replenished fruit tray back in the refrigerator under the bar. “You need help. Try Sarah.”

  Mitch shook his head. He’d like to try Sarah. Try to get her in bed was what he wanted to do. Thing was, he couldn’t just sleep with her. He couldn’t start anything with her unless he was willing to see it through to the end, and he wasn’t. He was definitely not marriage material.

  “I can’t get involved with Sarah,” Mitch said. “I tell you she needs a better man than me.”

  Marco knocked him upside the head.

  “What the hell was that for?” Mitch rubbed the spot and stared at his older brother. “Huh?”

  Marco bonked him again.

  “Ouch. Hey, watch it.”

  Marco glared at him. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say that again. That you’re not good enough. You’re a Defalco and you’d damn well better remember that. You made some bad decisions when you were a kid, but you turned yourself around. You’re walking the straight and narrow.”

  “I didn’t have much choice—”

  “There’s always a choice, Mitch.”

  “Right. It was either prison or the military.”

  “And you chose right. The Marines made you the man you were supposed to be. The man you are today. A woman like Sarah would be lucky to marry you. Don’t you believe otherwise.”

  Mitch rubbed his head. “You think?”

  “I know. Dad would’ve been proud of you. Hell, I’m proud of you. We all are.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  Marco glared at him. “You want me to come over there and beat the crap out of you?”

  “You and whose army?” Mitch said with a grin.

  “That does it.” Marco jumped over the bar and punched Mitch’s shoulder. Once, twice, three times. “I don’t need a freaking army to whip you into shape, little brother.”

  Mitch stood and pushed back the barstool. “Hey, I was joking. Stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You don’t want to hurt me?” Marco ripped off his apron and rolled up his sleeves.

  Mitch shook his head, holding his hands out. “Marco, be reasonable.”

  Paul Defalco walked in through the kitchen doors and froze in his tracks, his brown eyes lighting up. “Hot damn! A fight!”

  Three years younger than Mitch, he was always eager to have at it with the oldest brother.

  “Stay back, Paul,” Marco warned. “This is between Mitch and me.”

  “Whoa, right. As if.” Paul ran over and grabbed Marco from behind. “Go ahead, Mitch. Punch him!”

  Marco struggled to get loose. “Damn it, Paul. Get off me.”

  “Not on your life. Give him a good one, Mitch. Come on, what are you waiting for?”

  Mitch stepped back. “Let him go. I’m not going to hit him.”

  The kitchen doors swung open again. Vivian and Lindsey entered the dining area. “Oh my stars,” Vivian said. “Not again. Boys, boys! Stop it this instant!” When a barstool crashed to the floor, she marched over to the bar, grabbed a carafe of water and dumped it on Marco and Paul.

  Mitch glanced at Lindsey. She stood by the doors, gaping at her uncles in astonishment. He caught her eye and winked. She smiled at him. Mitch felt a tightening in his che
st. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

  His mother rounded on the two sons who were now dripping wet. “Goodness gracious. What’s gotten into you boys? How many times have I told you no roughhousing in the restaurant? We can’t afford broken chairs and cracked mirrors and I don’t know what else. If you have to fight, go out back. Come along, Lindsey. Let’s get back to our bake-athon.”

  Before heading to the kitchen, Vivian patted Mitch’s cheek. “I’m glad to see you have more sense than those two.”

  Mitch smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Marco and Paul, both wiping their wet faces on paper towels, glared at Mitch.

  “You are one lucky son of a bitch,” Marco said under his breath. “I’ll get you for this. And you, too.” He punched Paul’s shoulder on his way to the other side of the bar.

  Mitch followed Paul to the double doors leading to the kitchen. “You can try, Marco. You can certainly try.”

  Marco threw an olive at him.

  Mitch caught it and popped it in his mouth.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said, quickly ducking through the doors.

  “Come back here, you coward,” Marco called.

  Mitch laughed. God, it was good to be home.

  ****

  On Wednesday, Lindsey walked to The Music Shoppe for her horn lesson. She was early and the store wasn’t busy, so she hung around the counter, talking to Thomas, waiting for Sarah to finish with her four o’clock lesson.

  While Thomas unpacked a box of guitar strings, she admired his tall, lean body. She’d never liked a boy before. It was pretty lame, almost embarrassing—these mushy kind of feelings swishing around inside.

  No way would Mitch let her go out with a boy, if she decided she wanted to. Geez, that day they signed her up for horn lessons, he’d had a cow because she was talking to Thomas.

  And the lecture he’d given her. Oh my God.

  Didn’t he think she knew about sex? After living with her skanky mother? How could he be such a hypocrite? He’d slept with Dana and gotten her pregnant.

  Thomas turned back to the counter. “So, have you decided about the guitar lessons? You see how slow business is on Wednesdays. I have the time.” He shrugged and smiled.

  Damn, her tummy actually dipped because he smiled at her. She didn’t trust the feeling. Nope. Not at all.

  “Mitch wasn’t too keen on the idea,” she said. “I don’t think he’ll shell out the bucks for guitar lessons, and he won’t let me get a job. Of course, all I could do would be baby-sit or mow lawns or something. He’s being a total jerk about it.”

  Thomas sorted the packs of guitar strings. “You should give him a chance. It can’t be easy for a guy like him to find out he has a daughter. Especially one like you.”

  Lindsey straightened from leaning on the counter. “Like me? What do you mean by that?”

  “Fathers have a rough time with daughters. Especially pretty ones.” Thomas’s cheeks reddened and he quickly turned to arrange packets of guitar strings on the wall display behind the counter.

  Lindsey couldn’t believe what he’d said. “You think I’m pretty?”

  He shrugged, still busy arranging the colorful packets.

  Wow, he really thinks I’m pretty. Well, the feeling was certainly mutual. He wasn’t pretty, but he sure was hot. Everything about him was hot—his short black hair, the way his shoulders filled out the green polo shirt. Delicious warmth stole down her body. This was exciting and scary, and maybe not so lame, after all.

  “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

  Thomas spun around, his brown eyes disbelieving. “No one? What about your mom?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “Especially not my mom. We, uh...” She couldn’t tell him about her mother—she didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. “We didn’t get along.”

  Thomas leaned across the counter. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  Lindsey stepped back. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged again and stood up tall and straight. “Mrs. Cooper says you’ve got real musical talent. She says you get it from your dad.”

  “No way. Mitch?”

  “Yeah. She said your dad used to be in a band. He sang and played guitar. He opened for some of the big country western singers and toured all over the country.”

  “He never told me that.”

  “You don’t talk much, remember?”

  Lindsey sighed. “That’s true, we don’t, but he’s the grown-up. It’s up to him to start the conversations. It’s up to him to make us a family.”

  Thomas shook his head. “He’s a guy, Lindsey. Guys don’t talk much.”

  She stretched her neck to look up at him. He was a good six inches taller than she was. His skin was dark, and so were his eyes. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the ditzy feelings floating in her brain and tummy. “You talk a lot.”

  “Not usually, except somehow, it’s easy to talk to you.”

  “It is?” That shouldn’t please her, but it did.

  He nodded and picked up another group of guitar string packets. “Maybe you should cut your dad some slack. Give him a chance. Maybe if you give a little, he’ll give back. Maybe you can talk him into letting you take guitar lessons.”

  Lindsey snorted. “I don’t think so.”

  “Give him a chance, Lindsey.”

  “Okay, I’ll think about it.” Damn, she liked how he said her name.

  “All right, then.” Thomas smiled, making that delicious warmth cruise down her body again. She liked how he made her feel, too. Maybe it was time to give this boy-girl stuff a chance. She’d have to be careful, though. There was a lot at stake. Namely, her heart.

  ****

  Friday evening, Sarah sat on her front porch, swinging in the swing, enjoying the twilight hour. The crickets were beginning to chirp their night songs and a mockingbird hopped along the top of the side fence, searching for bugs. Josh was riding his bike back and forth down the street trying to eke out the last minutes of sunshine.

  The noise of a motorcycle interrupted the cricket song as Mitch and Lindsey pulled into their driveway. Lindsey hopped off the bike and waved, then turned to go into the house. Mitch swung off the bike and kicked the stand down. He opened the garage door, hauled the bike inside, came back out and closed the door. When he glanced Sarah’s way, she held her breath. He didn’t wave; instead, he tipped his head at her before following Lindsey inside.

  Sarah slowly exhaled. She’d never been good with men and the whole dating thing. In high school, she’d been shy and awkward, with her nose always in a book, or else practicing her music.

  Then in college, boys started asking her out. She’d gone on a couple of dates. Then one particular date had turned her world and her life into a nightmare.

  She hadn’t told her folks about the incident. Jeanie had died six months before, and her parents had still been grieving. Sarah had seen a therapist at the university, and that had helped a little. It was Ryan Cooper who had saved Sarah from herself. Ryan, with his strawberry-blond hair and his soft voice.

  She’d met him at a poetry reading. They’d literally bumped into each other. He’d caught her when she would have fallen, and for the first time in the two years since that fateful night, Sarah didn’t flinch away from a man’s touch.

  “Mo-om! Can I buy a Popsicle from the ice-cream man?”

  Sarah heard the music of the truck making the rounds in the neighborhood. Josh came running up the lawn, his bike thrown down, his face sweaty, eyes sparkling.

  “Can I, Mom? Please?”

  “Go get the money out of my wallet. Buy me one, too.”

  “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” He hugged her neck, before making a mad dash into the house.

  Sarah swallowed a lump in her throat. He looked like his father, with Ryan’s red hair and freckles, the same crooked smile and green twinkling eyes.

  Ryan had loved her so much. He’d been patient w
ith their lovemaking, gentle, coaxing. Their joining always left her with a warm feeling of closeness, but nothing more. Sarah had never experienced that gut-wrenching, earth-moving orgasm that she’d read about in romance novels and Cosmo. Ryan had never said anything, but she knew in her heart she’d disappointed him because no matter how hard he tried, she couldn’t respond or feel any passion for him.

  Josh exploded out the front door. The ice-cream man was four houses down. Lindsey came out of her house and joined Josh on the curb.

  When Josh grew up and left home, Sarah would be alone. She felt alone now. If she didn’t do something soon about her demons, her future would certainly be bleak and lonely.

  Josh and Lindsey skipped across the yard, frozen treats in hand, and settled on the porch steps.

  “Here you go, Mom.” He tossed a nutty-buddy to Sarah.

  “Thanks, baby.”

  “Mo-om!” His face reddened and he frowned ferociously at the endearment.

  “Oh, sorry,” Sarah said.

  Lindsey grinned and bit into her Eskimo pie. She sat cross-legged on the step, leaning against the banister. Sarah was glad to see the girl starting to relax and smile more.

  Sarah unwrapped the chocolate peanut-sprinkled cone and nibbled the edges. She shouldn’t be indulging, except sometimes it was murder to resist sweet treats. Oh well, tomorrow was another day, as Scarlett would say.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  The deep melodious voice coming from behind nearly knocked Sarah right off the swing.

  Lindsey shot Mitch a dirty look as he walked to the front of the porch. She finished her Eskimo pie in record time, jumped up and wiped her hands on her shorts. “I’ve got homework to do.”

  Mitch shrugged. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  “You want to play a video game for a few minutes?” Josh asked Lindsey, breaking the silence that had descended over the porch.

  “Sure, but only one. I’m going to Emily’s house to work on geometry and I don’t want to be late.” With one hard glare thrown Mitch’s way, she followed Josh into the house.

  Sarah watched the exchange with a heavy feeling in her heart. Father and daughter didn’t seem to be bonding at all. She caught Mitch’s eye and offered a small smile. “She’ll come around eventually.”