Lilac Lane (Chesapeake Shores #14)(31)
Over the years he’d dated any number of women, many of them attractive, but not a one had gotten to him as Kiera Malone did. That made her dangerous and made these dreams that stirred him in the night even more disturbing.
Better those dreams, though, than the ones that came after, the familiar ones that rarely changed. There were always a baby’s cries, the whispered words he couldn’t quite make out and, when he awakened, the same emptiness that he’d felt on that morning nearly two decades ago when he’d discovered his wife and baby had vanished without so much as a note of goodbye.
A morning run didn’t help. Nor did a cold, bracing shower, nor a pot of very strong coffee. Nothing helped. He felt the pain as sharply as he had on that first day when he’d realized that his wife and child were truly gone. And every single time he’d hit a dead end in his search for them, the pain had been his companion, the dreams the reason he fought sleep.
No matter how often he told himself to let it go, to end the hunt and move on with his life, he couldn’t quite put aside the way his daughter had giggled when he held her in the air, the way her smiles had moved him. He’d loved his wife with all his heart, but their baby girl had stolen his breath away.
Not a day went by that he didn’t try to imagine what Deanna must look like now, where she might be, what direction her life had taken. When he thought of the woman who’d run away with her, his feelings were mixed. The part of him that had loved Melody and her wild spirit still ached at times, but then he remembered what she’d stolen from him—the future she’d stolen from the three of them—and he hated her for that.
Other people got over failed marriages, he told himself repeatedly. They recognized the mistakes they’d made and either fixed them or repeated them. He’d recognized his; he knew that on too many occasions he’d chosen work over his wife and child. Melody had repeatedly tried to make her point about that, but she hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to try to fix the problem. Instead, she’d tired of waiting. One day she’d simply packed up and left. Maybe there’d been someone else waiting for her, though he’d never had any reason to suspect her of cheating. More likely, she’d simply given up and done the one thing she could think of that would punish him for not putting their marriage first.
He might have forgiven that, but the lack of contact, the inability to even see his precious daughter from time to time, had filled him with rage at first. He’d gone to court once seeking help, but he’d found none. Instead, he’d met skepticism that his wife would take his child and flee if she hadn’t had good reason to do so. The implication that he might have abused her or their daughter was unmistakable. None of them had understood that a wife and mother might be immature enough to simply want retaliation. So he’d gone back to spending a fortune on private detectives.
Then, once the trail had gone cold in Baltimore, he’d abandoned hope, though he’d taken the job in the deli there on the very unlikely chance that one day they might cross paths. Of course, they never had. And inertia had kept him there for fifteen years.
When Luke had advertised for a chef for his new pub in Chesapeake Shores, Bryan had seized on the chance to make a fresh start. The change of scenery had, indeed, been good for him. He liked the quiet little town along the bay. He liked and respected the O’Briens. He had a garden behind his rented house. Working it in the early morning, his hands in the cool dirt, watching the herbs and vegetables grow and ripen, gave him a certain serenity. He’d found some peace here, at least during the day.
At night, though, that was another story. At night the dreams came back. He wondered if PTSD was a little like this, sneaky and devastating when it turned up to shatter calm. All he wanted these days was calm, the chance to be a little creative in the kitchen, to grow the restaurant’s fresh vegetables and herbs in his own garden, to enjoy a morning run or a glass of wine on his back deck from time to time. That’s it. He didn’t need anything else. Or anyone, he amended. Perhaps he was every bit as selfish and self-absorbed as Melody had once accused him of being.
Now, though, Kiera Malone had come along and made him wonder about the narrow life he’d chosen. If he were going to change his solitary ways, he most certainly wouldn’t choose a woman who annoyed the daylights out of him or one who was here only temporarily. What would be the point, then, in letting her into his life only to watch her fly off to Ireland? Better to keep his distance.
Satisfied with the stern talking-to he’d given himself, he drank one more cup of coffee for good measure, then headed to O’Brien’s, convinced that Kiera could do nothing at all to get under his skin today. He wouldn’t allow it.
Sadly, within the hour, the vow was broken and the pesky woman had managed to trip his temper and his lust just by walking into his kitchen with an Irish tune on her soft pink lips and a couple of “wee little suggestions” for his menu.
*
Kiera wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong, but at Bryan’s fierce scowl and command that she leave his kitchen, she backed through the door and headed for Luke’s office.
“I suppose now you’re going to complain about me to your son-in-law?” Bryan asked, following her.
Kiera whirled around. “I was going to do no such thing,” she said, standing toe-to-toe with the infuriating man. “If you and I have a problem, then we’ll work it out between us like the adults we’re meant to be, though right at the moment I’m not so sure your maturity rises to that level.”