His-and-Hers Family. Helen Lacey

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      His indifference gave her the opportunity to focus on her daughter. She learned about Cecily’s school, her friends, her beloved horse, Banjo, and the family who clearly adored her. Talking with her daughter seemed so natural and not awkward, like she had imagined for so many years.

      Awkward she saved for Wyatt. And the stretched nerves she took with herself everywhere she went—she saved them for him, too. And the fluttering in her belly whenever she thought about his blue eyes and perfectly sexy smile.

      “Earth to Fiona?”

      She snapped her thoughts back to the moment and discovered her three friends staring at her with raised brows and widened eyes. “I was thinking about Cecily,” she said and took a drink.

      “You sighed,” M.J. told her. “Loudly.”

      “I cleared my throat,” she said in defense. “So, who’s up for more iced tea?”

      Callie checked her watch. “Count me out. I have to get going. I promised Noah I’d be home early.”

      Fiona didn’t miss the dreamy look on her friend’s face. Callie adored her husband and four stepchildren. And with a pregnant Evie soon to marry Callie’s younger brother, Scott, the two families were now intimately linked. Sometimes, when she watched them interact and observed the friendly rivalry and obvious affection the siblings felt for one another, Fiona experienced a sharp pain in her chest.

      She’d never known family. Her great-uncle Leonard had done his best to provide her with a safe home after her mother dumped her on his doorstep, but he’d been a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor with old-fashioned morals and hadn’t known how to handle a pregnant and emotionally fraught fifteen-year-old girl. He kept her fed and clothed and gave her a place to live—in his mind that was enough.

      There had been no question about her keeping the baby.

      The deal was done before she’d gone into labor. A married couple was taking her baby—that was all Fiona was told. The adoption would be closed. She could never contact her child.

      But now I have my daughter back ….

      Well, she had a chance at least.

      But she knew there were going to be challenging times ahead. Cecily would have questions, and she still wasn’t sure how she would answer them. And Wyatt? She knew he’d be watching her every move and trying to discover her secrets. But even knowing that, Fiona held a seed of optimism in her heart. And when she returned to her empty little house a short while later, Fiona didn’t feel half the loneliness that normally weighed down her shoulders when she opened the front door. She felt … hope.

      Purple. Or as the woman behind him said in a chirpy tone, lavender. Wyatt had never been in a room that was so pretty. As he dumped his bag by the foot of the bed, the hostess told him the room was usually used by honeymooners and couples. Cecily was happily entrenched in the smaller room next door, a much more appealing space decorated in beige and white. This was too much.

      The big bed was strewn with more pillows than he’d ever seen. He couldn’t sleep in here, surrounded by flowers and purple cushions. And what the hell was the scent hitting his nose like a boxing glove every time he moved … potpourri?

      “So, I’ll let you settle in,” Evie Dunn said cheerfully.

      Wyatt didn’t have a chance to object. The woman walked out of the room, and seconds later Cecily bounded through the door.

      She wrinkled her nose. “Uncle Wyatt, it smells like a perfume shop in here.”

      That did it. “Let’s switch rooms.”

      “My allergies,” she protested. “And I’ve already unpacked.”

      Yeah, her three cases. One for every week they were staying in Crystal Point.

      “Right, allergies.” He forgot about the sickly sweet room for a moment. “Are you ready to go?”

      Cecily nodded. “Yep. I don’t know why we couldn’t meet here?”

      “The hotel is better,” he said quietly. Neutral. It was what Fiona wanted.

      “But Evie said we could use the front living room, and I—”

      “You know the deal. Let’s go,” he said, gently cutting her off. Sometimes Cecily’s exuberance was exhausting.

      “Do you think she’ll like me? Do you think she’ll be disappointed?” Cecily popped out questions at a million miles per hour. “What if she—”

      “Cecily—relax. She’ll like you,” he assured his niece. “I promise. And where’s all this sudden anxiety coming from anyway? You’ve been talking on the phone and by email for two weeks now.”

      “But this is face-to-face,” she said in a rush of breath. “And that’s way different.”

      Yeah … way different. The tension knocking inside his chest was inexplicable. He didn’t ever get like this. But thinking about Fiona Walsh stirred his blood. And considering the circumstances, Wyatt knew it was out of the question to be attracted to her. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by Fiona’s pretty face and lovely curves. He’d been swept away by physical attraction before. He wasn’t about to make that same mistake again.

      He only had to look at Cecily to know he had to keep his head on straight.

      “You’re going to be a hit. Trust me.”

      “I do, Uncle Wyatt,” she said and hugged him. “I want it all to work out so much. I want Fiona to like me, and I want to like her back, too.”

      “I’m sure you will,” he assured her. “She’s nice.”

      Cecily shrugged. “Well, she seems nice. But you never really know what someone is like at first.”

      Wyatt heard the waver in his niece’s voice. “Cecily, are you having doubts about this?”

      She quickly shook her head. “No … just nerves, I guess.”

      He didn’t doubt Fiona would be feeling the same apprehension. “We can go home anytime you want. Just say the word.”

      “I don’t want to go home,” she replied. “Not yet. I want to try and see if we can be … I dunno … friends maybe.”

      Wyatt admired Cecily’s maturity. But he’d make sure he was on hand if the pressure became too much for her young shoulders. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

      He herded her out of the bedroom and down the hall. The drive into town took fifteen minutes, and by the time he parked the rental car and took the lift from the basement car park, they were only a few minutes away from their meeting time.

      He settled Cecily in the foyer, on the same leather sofa where he’d met with Fiona a couple of weeks earlier. The place was quiet, and he was glad they’d have privacy and not be crowded out by the familiar faces of Fiona’s friends, like at the B and B.

      “Uncle Wyatt?”

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