Adventures In Parenthood. Dawn Atkins

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СКАЧАТЬ you?”

      “We broke up, yes. And it was my idea.” Not that it was his business. “Why do you ask?”

      He colored. “I don’t know. You were different around him.”

      “How?”

      “Subdued. Preoccupied, I guess. You kept tracking him.”

      “Hmm.” So her concern had been noticeable. That trip had showed her they wouldn’t work as a couple. An hour into the visit, Aubrey was having a blast with the girls when Rafe sent her a text from across the room: How much longer? He’d endured the visit for her sake, but he had no interest in her family, not even after a year of being a couple.

      Rafe had never said he wanted to get serious, but they’d been so good together, had so much in common, she’d assumed that was where they were headed. She’d spun a cotton-candy story in her head—a sweet and fluffy cloud that melted to nothing the instant her tongue touched it. She’d felt like a fool.

      “How’d he take it?” Dixon asked.

      “Fine. We’re friends.” Aubrey, on the other hand, had been devastated. She hadn’t realized how attached to him she’d been. It took her months to recover, scaring her so much she’d vowed to think long and hard before she got involved with another man.

      Dixon watched her, reading between lines she’d prefer to stay invisible.

      “What about you?” she asked. “What happened to the girl you brought to that one birthday party. She was a reporter. Bobbi? No. Tommi. I liked her.”

      “Tommi. Yeah.” His eyes went soft.

      She’d been pretty—dramatic features, dark hair—and mouthy and lively and ambitious. She’d figured Dixon would go for someone more settled, mature, sedate. Boring?

      That wasn’t fair, but it was kinda what she’d thought.

      “So what happened?” she asked him.

      “She wanted to work for a bigger paper. She’s in Chicago now.” His eyes flicked away. He’d been hurt by the breakup.

      “You wanted her to stay?”

      “Yeah.” He smiled sadly. “We’d settled into a groove and I thought she was as content as I was.”

      He’d made up his own cotton-candy story. “That’s kind of what happened with Rafe. I thought we had more than we did.”

      Dixon nodded.

      “So you were serious about her?”

      “Sure. I was thirty-one. It was time to get married and have kids.”

      “And now?”

      “Now I’m thirty-four.” He shrugged, but he was smiling.

      “And you’ll be locked down with the girls.” She suffered a jolt of guilt for hanging on to her own freedom, while he got trapped.

      “It’ll happen when it happens. What about you? You plan to settle down?”

      “Maybe. I don’t think that far ahead.” She didn’t know how much time she had, after all. The countdown to breast cancer ticked away in her brain.

      “What about a family?”

      “I’m not the type,” she said. “When we were little, Brianna played house and I played Lara Croft.”

      Dixon smiled. “People change.”

      “Not that much. I’m not built for it. Mom said I was like our father, who was a total outdoors guy.”

      “Outdoor guys have kids.”

      He wanted more of an answer, so she gave him one. “It’s too easy to screw up with children. So much can go wrong.”

      “Life is risk, Aubrey,” he said softly. “There are no guarantees.”

      “You’re right. There are car wrecks and cancer.” The harsh words burned like a brand. “I’m not as brave as Brianna.” Her sister had been scared of cancer, but she’d married and had children all the same. And look what happened.

      She swallowed hard, suddenly overcome by her sister’s tragedy.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

      “It’s okay. Everything reminds me.”

      She remembered the last thing her mother had said to her before she died. Her mother had pushed herself out of her morphine fog to look straight at Aubrey, fire in her eyes: make your mark, Aubrey. Carry on for me. Don’t hold back.

      Her mother had always claimed not to regret having had Aubrey and Brianna, but she’d given up the life she’d loved for them.

      “How’s your foot? Need an aspirin?” Dixon asked.

      “It’s fine.” She thought about Mexico again, relieved to change the subject. “It was fine that night, too.” She tilted her head, challenging him. “I didn’t need an X-ray.” Citing stats about untreated foot breaks, he’d wanted to take her to a hospital.

      “Your ankle was the size of a watermelon.”

      “More like a large peach. I wasn’t in that much pain.”

      “Correction. You couldn’t feel that much pain, thanks to Tylenol 3 and champagne. That was a crazy stunt. I don’t know why I did it.” There was fondness in his tone.

      “I do,” she said. They locked gazes and the air tightened, holding them, suspended, not breathing.

      “Yeah. That.”

      As if a starting gun had gone off inside her, sexual desire shot through her, like the adrenaline surge she experienced before a new challenge.

      What was it about Dixon? He was not her type. He was serious, steady, careful...boring. It had to be the glint in his eye that said he could be tempted, that she could tempt him. Aubrey alone.

      At that moment, she was glad to feel something besides sadness and exhaustion. In the back of her mind, cold shadows loomed—her sister’s death, her nieces’ fear and loss—but in the golden light of this room, with the sizzle of champagne in her veins, and this man looking at her that way, she was free of all that.

      Behind the burn of desire in Dixon’s gaze, she caught flickers of the grief waiting to ambush him, too, but for now, he was drinking her in, wanting her, and that sent a flare from her belly to her brain, lighting her up inside. They were in this together—playing hooky from hell.

      The seconds stretched, their breathing loud and uneven. She shifted her wrapped foot to the floor and leaned closer to him, fingers reaching across the back of the sofa to touch his. “Why did you leave me that night? Really?”

      “It was late. You were hurt. I was drunk.” He paused. “By the way, did you throw something at СКАЧАТЬ