The Devaney Brothers: Michael and Patrick: Michael's Discovery. Sherryl Woods

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      Michael glanced questioningly toward Kelly.

      “I’ll have a cup of tea,” she said.

      Michael nodded. “The lady will have tea, and I’ll have your strongest poison.”

      Henry blinked furiously. “Sir?”

      Kelly bit back a chuckle. “Don’t mind him, Henry. He thinks he’s being amusing. Bring him a cup of very strong coffee. I want him wide-awake while I finish telling him what I think of him.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” the waiter said, backing away from the table with undisguised relief.

      “Think he’ll ever come back?” Michael asked.

      “He shouldn’t,” Kelly said. “You were awful to him.”

      “And to you,” Michael said. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of having to put something lethal in my coffee by asking him to do it.”

      “Don’t think I wouldn’t, if I had any murderous tendencies,” Kelly told him. “Unfortunately, I still think you’re worth salvaging.”

      He studied her intently. “Why?”

      “Why what?”

      “Why do you think I’m worth saving?”

      She got the impression that he sincerely wanted to know, maybe even needed to know. “Because underneath all that exasperating self-pity, you’re a good guy. You’ve spent your life being a hero for your country. You’re smart, occasionally funny and breathtakingly handsome, though I wouldn’t let that go to your head. Good looks rarely make up for a lousy disposition.”

      A smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll try to remember that from now on.”

      Kelly regarded him seriously. “Michael, there really are a lot of blessings in your life. You should try counting them, instead of focusing on what you’ve lost.”

      “I will,” he promised, his own expression suddenly serious. “I hope you won’t mind if I put you at the top of the list.”

      Kelly’s breath caught in her throat and the tears she’d fought off returned with a vengeance. “Dammit, why did you have to go and say something so blasted sweet?” she asked, swiping impatiently at her cheeks. “I was just getting comfortable being furious with you.”

      He reached over and caught a tear streaking down her face, then brushed it gently away. “Well, now, I couldn’t have that, could I?”

      She sniffed and tried not to notice the way his fingers felt against her skin. “Why not?”

      “You were liable to go off and leave me stranded in here,” he told her with a perfectly straight face.

      Kelly choked back the laughter that bubbled up. “I should have known your reason would be totally self-serving.”

      He grinned. “That’s the kind of guy I am,” he said unrepentantly.

      “No,” she said emphatically. “That’s the kind of guy you want me to think you are.” She leveled a look deep into his eyes. “Which makes me wonder why you feel it’s necessary. Are you deliberately trying to scare me off, Michael? Is this part of your tactic to keep some distance between us?”

      He seemed to consider the question for an eternity before finally shrugging. “I honestly don’t know.”

      “Then you should know that it takes a lot more than a bad temper to scare me away.”

      He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I think I’d already figured that out.”

      * * *

      The entire scene at the restaurant had been totally draining. Given a choice, Michael would have gone back to his own apartment and hidden out for the rest of the day, but he wasn’t about to admit to Kelly just how shaken he was, both by the struggles he’d had adjusting to a world in which he wasn’t agile as a cat and to the discovery that her opinion of him mattered. It mattered far more than it should.

      Which was also why he wasn’t going to back out on this visit to see his folks. He wasn’t going to give Kelly one more reason to think of him as a coward.

      Given his state of emotional turmoil, he shouldn’t have been surprised by his reaction to seeing the home in which he’d grown up, but he was. It was as if a hard knot he hadn’t even known was there, deep inside, finally eased.

      The house, an unimpressive, two-story brick Colonial on a quiet street, looked exactly the way it had since the first day he’d walked through the door. There was ivy climbing up one side, despite his father’s frequent attempts to destroy it. The shutters, despite his mother’s avowed intention to paint them red, were still the glossy black his father preferred, as was the front door with its gleaming brass knocker. His gaze drifted along the front walk, then froze at the sight of the steps. There were so blasted many of them. How had he forgotten?

      Apparently Kelly saw his dilemma at the same instant, but she was quicker to adjust. “You can go in through the garage,” she said swiftly. “It opens directly into the kitchen, doesn’t it?”

      Michael didn’t bother asking how she knew that. She had been in the house from time to time. If the visits hadn’t been especially memorable to him, apparently they had been to her. He was grateful for that at the moment.

      “That’ll work,” he said at once. “The garage door’s not locked and it’s not automatic. Think you can lift it?”

      She grinned and feigned flexing a muscle. “I may be little, but I’m mighty.”

      She went on ahead as Michael tried to navigate the driveway. It seemed to take forever. He was surprised that no one glanced outside and caught a glimpse of him struggling up the slight incline. What if no one was home? Granted it was Saturday afternoon and his mother had always baked on Saturdays, but maybe things had changed.

      As he considered that, he realized that Kelly had the garage door open. His mother’s car, the same dull gray sedan she’d driven for far too many years now, was right where it had always been. He bit back a sigh as he thought of how many times he’d offered her money to buy herself something newer, and how many times she’d told him to save his money for a rainy day.

      Just then the door from the kitchen was flung open and there she was, her cheeks rosy from the heat of the oven, wisps of graying curls framing her face and an expression of pure delight on her face.

      “Oh, my,” his mother whispered. “I heard the garage door, but I never imagined... Oh, my.” She was down the driveway, her arms around him before Michael could even blink away the tears that threatened.

      “Mom, you have to stop crying,” he said as he held her tightly. “I’m okay, and any second now you’re going to have me blubbering. How will that look?”

      “I don’t care how it looks,” she said, still not releasing him. She shook him just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with a man showing emotion. I thought I’d taught you that.”

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