Sutherland’s Pride (23 page)

“It doesn’t matter, Flynn. We can start over again today, because I love you, too.”

She meant it, she realized, surprised at herself. Some radical change had occurred inside her.

He stared at her. “You love me? Are you sure?”

“Well, now that you mention it … ” She trailed off, laughing at his expression.

“Don’t joke about this. It’s too shattering.” He held her close. “I wasn’t going to give up hope, but from my point of view, things were looking pretty grim. May I ask what changed your mind?”

“I don’t think anything changed my mind.” Pride looked into her feelings with as much honesty as she could muster. “I knew I still loved you. I just didn’t want to trust you. But I finally read the letter Daddy left me, and I realized he had reached the end of his life before he saw how different things could have been.”

“What do you mean, darling,” Flynn asked tenderly.

“He could have won my mother’s love again, but instead, he chose to punish her by pretending he thought she was two-timing him, and she punished him by withdrawing her love. I didn’t want to wind up like him, longing for forgiveness and a new start on my deathbed.”

“That couldn’t happen with us,” Flynn said, grinning. “After all, we have Tracy Eric on our side. Eventually, she would have analyzed the situation and straightened everything out.”

Pride rested her forehead on his shoulder. “I hope so, but Tracy was in over her head on this one.”

“Seriously, what happens to Tracy Eric when she’s no longer a single mother?”

“I don’t know.” She thought about it, remembering certain comments made by her editor the day before. “The way I see it, she has two choices. One, she can keep writing from a single mother’s point of view and say nothing about her marriage, or two, she can end the column.”

“I’ve become one of Tracy’s main fans,” Flynn protested. “She can’t end her column.”

“Once Tracy gets married to the father of her child, everything changes.” She snuggled against him, enjoying the solid, male body and listening to his strong heartbeat. “Some things are common to all mothers, but the ‘Single Mommy’ column was popular because it discussed all the things married mommies usually don’t have to deal with.”

“Uh-oh.” Flynn held her closer. “Maybe we’d better go below and discuss this. It’s a scary thought that I’m messing with your career like this by marrying you.”

“There are other column ideas,” Pride said, smiling. “Freelance writers are adaptable. In fact, I have plans for Tracy Eric to go out with a bang.”

“Oh, yes?” Flynn regarded her with trepidation. “Are you planning a big spread in the paper on our wedding or something?”

“Heavens, no. That would be my editor’s province. But I’ll have to tell my readers that I’ve fallen in love and plan to marry the father of my child, which means Tracy Eric won’t be a single mommy anymore.”

Flynn pulled her close for a lingering kiss. “I like that. You’ve fallen in love. With me. High time is all I’ve got to say.” He swung her up in his arms and headed to the hatch. “I’ve never fallen out of love with you. That’s why I didn’t approach you at your father’s funeral. I wanted you all to myself in my office the next day.”

“And instead, I showed up with lots and lots of company.”

“That you did.” Flynn laughed and kicked the cabin door shut behind him. “It’s a good thing I didn’t realize at the time that Johnny was my son. I might have fainted. Killeen wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“Sure, she would. Everybody knows that a glass of water splashed in the face always works.”

“The shock of that would compound the faint.” Flynn began removing her blouse. “And Killeen would lose her Christmas bonus.”

She felt his hands on her breasts and savored the sensations of cool air and warm, rough male hands gliding over her tender skin. “That would be awful. Tracy Eric’s main fan, missing her Christmas bonus.”

“So it’s probably a good thing I didn’t realize Johnny was our son until after I’d had time to adjust somewhat.” He unbuttoned her shorts, skimmed them off her hips and let them drop to the floor. “Killeen’s bonus is saved. But her work might suffer if her main mentor, Tracy Eric, quits writing. You’d better think of a way to keep Tracy alive and writing.”

“Tracy’s going to write a book,” Pride murmured, not much interested at the moment. “All her fans have to do is consult the book, because everything she learned will be in it, complete with an index so they can look things up.”

“That should save Killeen’s sanity.” Flynn lifted her and laid her on the bed then reached into his pocket for a knotted handkerchief. He carefully untied the knot and freed a ring that sparkled with green fire, which he slid gently on the ring finger of her left hand.

“In the meantime,” he added, “I’ll tell Mom to plan the wedding and get the house ready. We’ll be married and spend our honeymoon on the boat.”

“This isn’t the honeymoon?”

He followed her down and stretched out beside her. “It’s the first day of a long honeymoon, and you’re right. It starts today.”

Pride discovered she was totally in favor of that.

• • •

Three weeks later, Pride heard the front door of their new home open and left the kitchen, where she had been tearing lettuce for a salad, to greet Flynn in the living room.

“You’re home early.” She hurried to kiss him, conscious again of the thrill she felt in knowing this man loved her.

“Things at the office were in mourning today, thanks to the publication of Tracy Eric’s last column. I decided the kindest thing to do was call an early halt to the misery.” Flynn smiled at her. “Besides, I wanted to see what you and Johnny were up to.”

“Johnny is busy with the building blocks your dad gave him. He’s in the process of constructing a house for the beetle he found in the flower bed.”

“Beetle? Uh-oh. You don’t think he’ll eat the beetle, do you?” Flynn draped his arm over her shoulders and followed her to the kitchen, where he stripped off his suit jacket and laid it over a chair back.

“I’m not allowing him to catch the beetle until he has the house built for it.” She reached into the refrigerator, took out a soft drink and handed it to him. “So Killeen is upset about Tracy Eric’s retirement?”

“The office is practically shrouded in black.” Flynn took a swallow and set the bottle on the counter so he could unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves. “She says that if Tracy’s book isn’t in her hands quickly, she doesn’t know what will happen at her house.”

“You’ve got your watch back.” She smiled at the newly repaired mariner’s watch on his left wrist. “Maybe you’d better take it off before Johnny sees it.”

“Johnny has so many new toys, my watch probably won’t even catch his eye any longer.”

As if to give him the lie, Johnny appeared in the doorway, spotted Flynn, and came running, shouting at the top of his voice, “Flynn’s. Daddy’s.”

When Flynn stooped to scoop up his son, the child’s small fingers closed over the watch.

“Mine,” Johnny said and tugged.

“Uh-oh,” Flynn said. “What would Tracy Eric suggest in a case like this?”

“Tracy Eric would castigate you for continuing to wear that watch.” Pride couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “She would advise you to wear that replacement watch you bought or use your cell phone like everyone else.”

Flynn tried to pry Johnny’s little fingers off his watch. The attempt produced a small insurrection, complete with illegal fireworks and attempts at subversion.

“What would she recommend now?” he asked.

“She’d say this is a wonderful opportunity to practice some child discipline.”

“That’s what I was afraid she’d say.” Flynn unclasped his watch and let Johnny pull it off his wrist. “Let the poor, deprived child play with it a moment.”

“Flynn,” Pride began in dangerous tones.

“Just for a minute,” Flynn said, chuckling. “I’ll scour the stores tomorrow for a child’s version of a mariner’s watch.”

“Failing that, Mickey Mouse will do.”

“For a son of mine? Have some decency, Pride. He’s got to start learning his signal flags.”

They both watched as Johnny settled on the floor with the watch and began prying away at the crystal.

After a moment, Pride said, “Flynn, this would be a really good time to take that watch back.”

“Look at him. He’s having too much fun — hey. He got the crystal off. Johnny — ”

Flynn spoke too late. Johnny popped the crystal into his mouth.

Pride moved swiftly to pry open the little mouth and extract the crystal then nabbed the watch from his hands, ignoring Johnny’s wails. “This is it, Flynn Sutherland. Either you put that watch up until he’s twenty, or I’ll do something drastic.”

Flynn put the watch and crystal in his pocket, laughing. “Sorry, son. Your mother has spoken, and in no uncertain terms.”

“Daddy’s,” Johnny wailed. “Flynn’s.”

“It has to go back to the shop, I’m afraid,” Flynn lifted the child and cradled him in his arms. “But don’t worry. I’ll get it out when you turn twenty. That’s when I’ll present it to you as a memento of the day I met my firstborn son.” He looked at Pride. “And the day I found my heart again.”

Pride returned his smile and watched as Flynn carried his son down the hall to examine the house Johnny was building. Joy washed through her in a tidal wave of feeling that never seemed to lessen, followed by gratitude that Flynn was hers again.

This time, she would never let him go.

Kathryn Brocato was born in Texas, grew up in Arkansas and graduated from high school and college in Southeast Texas, where she and her husband, Charles, are scientists and business owners. A true believer in the happy ending, she is a lifelong reader and writer of romance.

When she is not writing, Kathryn enjoys birding, gardening, and tending her backyard chicken flock.

Casey Gray stood on the doorstep until she’d gotten her emotions under control. When the door opened, she glanced around the Johnsons’ big living room, viewing the cacophony of chatter, Christmas music, cheerful lights, and people inside as if through a dark portal.

Outside, the cool, humid darkness of a Southeast Texas winter night beckoned with a promise of starlight and solitude — and the postponement of a potentially humiliating confrontation.

“Come on in, Casey. I’m so glad I ran into you today.” Merrick Johnson, a former classmate, pulled her inside. “Look who’s back in town, folks. Our famous local chef, Casey Gray.”

Merrick’s azure-blue eyes and overdone friendliness hadn’t changed a bit, Casey observed, but her red-blond hair had been lightened to a silvery color, her makeup imitated a natural tan, and the slinky, black pajama-like outfit she wore enhanced both.

An image of another pair of blue eyes the color of a cloudless winter sky, framed by thick, black brows and long, straight lashes filled Casey’s mind. The eyes smiled into hers, loving and eager. She made herself call up an image of those eyes as she had last seen them — narrowed, contemptuous, and angry.

Casey smiled and nodded toward the few curious faces that turned her way. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said to Merrick.

“Are you kidding? And turn down the chance to have a genuine French-trained chef cook for the crowd? I’d have to be crazy. The kitchen’s all yours.”

Casey smiled. She was well aware that Merrick had invited her tonight for a purpose, so she’d made her plans in advance. She had once spent many happy hours cooking in the Johnson kitchen, and had used that fact to hint that Merrick’s guests might enjoy a special, freshly baked treat. Merrick had leaped on the suggestion.

An enormous Christmas tree dominated one corner of the living room, designer-decorated with wooden country-style ornaments and red bows. Piles of gifts wrapped in green, red, and silver lay stacked beneath it.

Casey pretended to admire the tree while using the toe of her shoe to open any cards she could reach for the one name she was interested in. When she found it, her heart contracted with an emotion that might have been pain or joy, or both.

“I had no idea you were in town. Why didn’t you call me?” Bonnie Brite, a short brunette who had long been Casey’s best friend, rushed over to fling both arms around her.

“When I got in, I went straight to the hospital and ran into Merrick.” Casey tossed back her shoulder-length chestnut hair and smiled. “She said you’d be here tonight.”

“How is your grandmother? As soon as I heard she was sick, I hoped you’d come home.” Bonnie stepped back and stared at her.

“She’s better, I think. I’m waiting to see Dr. Johnson in the morning.”

“God, don’t you look fantastic,” Bonnie said. “Love that crinkly hairdo on you. And look at the little wool business suit. It’s too hot, even in winter.” Bonnie grabbed Casey’s arm. “Let’s go in the kitchen where it’s quieter. I’m dying to hear all about your job in New York.”

Casey, who wanted to forget about her job in New York, said quickly, “I’m dying to hear all about the beauty shop. Believe me, it’s a lot more interesting.”

“Hah. You know what it’s like around here. The biggest event of the year is the Rice Festival, and I didn’t even go this year. But I’ll tell you who did. Old Kalin McBryde was there, checking out the Rice Cooking Contest. If you want to know what I think — ”

“I don’t.” Casey softened the words with a smile.

“ — he’s still crazy about you,” Bonnie finished, unabashed.

Casey followed Bonnie past several people she didn’t know despite having grown up in the small Southeast Texas town of Winnie.

Strange, how she’d heard of Kalin McBryde all her life, thanks to Merrick’s bragging, but had never met him until he spotted her struggling to get her Rice Cooking Contest entries inside the Community Building her junior year in high school.

“I don’t see anyone here I know,” Casey observed.

“Is that so surprising? No one can kill a party, even her own, faster than Merrick. Do you know what they say about her at law school?”

Casey could imagine it. “No.”

“They claim she’ll single-handedly close down the Texas Bar Association with all her talk about her future greatness. You know. She’s going to be a great lawyer like her uncle, Walter McBryde, the great criminal attorney. She leaves Kalin out of her spiel now, for which I’m sure he’s grateful.”