Until There Was You(89)

“So you felt like that’s why they adopted you?” Liam asked.

She gave a small shrug, her eyes still on the grave. “That is why they adopted me. And I’m glad they did…I just always felt a little bit like the consolation prize. And then there was Gretchen, constantly reminding them of the baby they lost, since she looks so much like my mom.”

“Come on. Your folks are crazy about you.”

Another ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Yep. That’s true, too. But the other thought is still there.” She moved on down the row of graves. “So now…you know, learning that my birth mother reached out…I don’t know. There are all kinds of adoptions. The birth mother can stay in touch, all sorts of visitation arrangements. But mine didn’t want that, and I totally understood. I pictured all these scenarios over the years…she was really young, or a drug addict, or maybe she was…raped. But now I find out that maybe she did want to see me…” Her voice broke again.

Cautiously, because she looked like a loaded spring, Liam went up behind her and slipped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest.

“Don’t be nice to me,” she whispered, though she didn’t move away. “I might cry if you are.”

“And here I thought a hug would help,” he said, holding her a little closer. “I really need a user’s manual where you’re concerned. Want me to pull your hair? Would that be better?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Sorry I’m so…unfun today.”

He turned her around. “Cordelia,” he said firmly. “Don’t be a dope.”

“Such a sweet-talker, you.”

“You just told me not to be nice.” He tipped her chin up, glad to see she wasn’t crying anymore. “What do you want to do? Want me to take you home? Take you to your parents’ house so you guys can talk?”

She pursed her lips, thinking, and even though he was trying to be princely, a bolt of lust shot through him. That mouth was really something, and sure enough, he found he was kissing her, gently, her soft, full lips such a surprise coming from that wiry little package.

“I don’t want to go home just yet,” she said, blushing. Her arms were still around him.

“You want to talk some more? I have a teenage girl. I know all about feelings and crying and mushy stuff.”

She laughed, and that warm thing in his chest squeezed. “Nah. I have to think about this a little more, but I’m done talking.”

“Come on, then,” Liam said. “Cemeteries don’t generally cheer people up. Back on the bike, woman. I know just the place.”

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up at their destination, and when Posey saw where they were, she gave him a big smile, the first he’d seen from her that day. “Jimbo’s Batting Cages, huh?”

“That’s right,” he said, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “Time you learned to put some wood on ball.”

“That sounds vaguely dirty,” she murmured.

“We can only hope,” and he gave her a kiss and was somewhat amazed at how great it felt to cheer her up.

WELL, LIAM HADN’T managed to teach her to hit, Posey thought, but it had been very fun (and yes, vaguely dirty) to have him stand behind her, his arms enveloping her as he tried to get her to swing at the right time, her bottom pressed most comfortably against his groin. Yep. Dirty. Who knew batting practice could be so much fun? As an improvement on her swing, it was worthless. As foreplay, much better. And he’d made her laugh, and that was really something, given how churned up she’d been feeling.

“Okay, try it yourself a few times. I have to call my kid,” Liam said, stepping out of the batting cage. Seemed a lot lonelier in here without him. The next ball came. She swung. Missed. “You are the worst hitter I’ve ever seen,” he added, smiling.

“We all have our talents, lunkhead,” she said. Another pitch from the machine. Another miss.

“Hey, honey, it’s your father,” Liam said into the phone. So sweet. He gave Nicole the paternal interrogation—Posey was standing just feet away, it wasn’t like she was eavesdropping. But it was…warming, Liam asking Nicole how was her paper going, had she checked in with Mrs. Antonelli, did she eat the leftover chicken and not just M&Ms. Posey’s chest swelled. Liam was a good father, that was clear, and there was little more appealing than a man who was a loving dad.

Liam glanced at her a couple of times as he talked. “Mind if I grab dinner while I’m out?” he said into the phone. He had yet to mention her—Posey tried not to notice, but, yeah, her name had not come up, she was pretty sure. Not that it mattered, not really. “Okay, baby,” Liam said finally. “See you later. Love you.” He put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Posey once more. “Here it comes…you can do it…swing!”

Posey swung. Missed. “Okay, enough humiliation. What’s the plan, Big Papi?”

“How about some dinner?” he asked.

“That would be fantastic,” she said. “I’m so hungry, I’m about to gnaw off your arm.”

They found a nice little place on the water, ordered some fried clams and scallops, a beer for him, a white zinfandel for her. “No whiskey sours?” Liam asked. “Because you were a lot of fun that night.”