The Prodigal's Christmas Reunion. Kathryn Springer

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СКАЧАТЬ a trail of mud and slush across her freshly mopped floor before taking a seat at the farthest table from the kitchen.

       He loved to do that.

       Erin found herself wishing that she hadn’t sent Gerald and Jerome Hicks home early. Business had been slow so she’d convinced the two cooks that she could handle any last-minute customers and shooed them out the door.

      Help me be patient, Lord. Erin sent up the silent prayer as she made her way to Vincent’s table. He smiled at her, his casual pose as deceptive as that of a rattlesnake coiled up in the sun.

       She didn’t trust him for a second. This particular snake was always ready—and willing—to strike.

       Erin suppressed a shudder as she filled his coffee cup. “Sorry for the delay,” she said automatically. “I had to put on a fresh pot.”

       Instead of looking at the menu, Vincent’s gaze swept around the empty dining room. “I guess it’s just you and me, isn’t it, Red?”

       “What would you like?”

       The sudden glint in the shifty blue eyes made Erin regret the way she’d worded the question. “Now that’s an interesting question,” he drawled. “Could be that I want the same thing my cousin wants.”

       “Leave Zach and Kylie alone,” Erin warned. “They’re happy.”

       “Who said I was talking about Zach?”

       Erin sensed the rage simmering just below the surface of his smile and knew if she followed it to its source, it would lead her to the one family member who had always been Vincent’s greatest rival.

       Lucas.

       It was hard to believe the two men were related. They didn’t resemble each other in looks or personality. Whereas Lucas had frequently been blamed for his role in things he’d never even taken part in, his cousin had somehow managed to come out smelling like the proverbial rose.

       Even now, Vincent had no qualms about using his father Pauley’s title as part-time mayor to throw his weight around.

       “It’s late. What would you like to order?” Erin somehow managed to keep her voice steady.

       “I heard he brought a kid back with him. Wonder how long that’ll last?” Vincent leaned back, hooking the heels of his snow-covered boots over the rung of the wooden chair beneath the table.

       Erin stiffened. “I imagine it will last awhile. Max is his son.”

       “His son?” Vincent hooted. “That kid ain’t got a drop of Clayton blood in his veins. Lucas took him in like a stray pup after the boy’s daddy died.”

       Erin fought to hide her reaction.

       When Lucas had said that Max belonged to him, Erin had searched for a resemblance between the two, some trait passed on from father to son, but had come to the conclusion that the boy must favor his mother.

       Vincent’s claim would explain why Lucas had looked so uncomfortable when Max had clung to him in her barn that day.

       Bits and pieces of rumors that Erin had heard over the past few months began to fall into place.

       The sudden silences and worried looks she’d seen pass between the Clayton family had led her to believe that Lucas was refusing to come back and fulfill the terms of his grandfather’s will.

       Now she wondered if the delay hadn’t had something to do with Max.

       “Lucas says he’s going to legally adopt the kid, but that won’t happen,” Vincent went on. “We both know that Lucas was never what you’d call a ‘family man.’”

       Erin had had her fill of the man’s poison. “He came back, didn’t he?”

       The triumphant look in Vincent’s eyes told her that she’d made a mistake. It didn’t matter if he’d been bluffing or if he had somehow known about her and Lucas all along. She’d stuck up for Lucas—the way she always had. If Vincent’s plan was to force Erin into admitting that her feelings for Lucas hadn’t changed, she’d just delivered the answer. Gift-wrapped and ready to use against her.

       “But he won’t stay long.” Vincent shook his head in mock sympathy. “Not for old man Clayton’s money or his land. Lucas ain’t wired that way and everybody with a lick of sense knows it.”

       His tone implied that Erin Fields didn’t fall into the “people with a lick of sense” category.

       “If you don’t want anything, I’m going to close up for the night.”

       Vincent’s hand shot out, his fingers curling around her wrist. “I want what’s mine and Lucas isn’t going to cheat me out of it.”

       Erin and Vincent might have played in the same sandbox once upon a time, but that didn’t prevent her knees from locking up in fear as the pressure tightened.

       She sucked in a breath. “Let go.”

       Vincent released her and sprang to his feet. “Mark my words. A lot can happen in a year.” The gleam in his eyes was more intimidating than the grip of his hand had been. “He won’t stick it out.”

       “People change.”

       “Some do…and some don’t.” Vincent leaned in close, enveloping her in a cloud of pungent cologne. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be getting any ideas about a happily-ever-after with my cousin. You weren’t enough to make Lucas stay back then, Erin, and you won’t be enough for him now.”

       He sauntered to the door and the moment it snapped shut behind him, Erin was there, fumbling with the lock. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against the frosted glass.

       Her heart had instantly rejected Vincent’s claim that Lucas planned to leave Max with someone else. Yes, he’d appeared uncomfortable with the way the preschooler had clung to him, but she hadn’t missed Lucas’s awkward but tender attempt to comfort him, either.

       No matter what Vincent said, Lucas cared about Max.

       But unfortunately, Erin knew what Vincent had said about her was true.

       She was still the same woman she’d been seven years ago.

       The woman that Lucas had left.

      Chapter Four

      “We goin’ to Erin’s house?”

       In the rearview mirror, Lucas saw Max point out the window. The wide smile on the boy’s face hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

       Max must have met half the population of Clayton since their arrival. The fact that he remembered Erin’s name proved she’d made an impression.

       Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring him along.

       An overweight corgi rounded the barn, sounding an alarm as his pickup rolled down the snow-packed driveway.

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