An Irresistible Bachelor(85)

"Wake up," she murmured, reaching down and patting the dog. "Come on, now."

His eyes opened halfway and he seemed grateful as he looked up at her. Maybe the groundhogs had been coming after him this time.

Abruptly, she felt like she knew what being chased was like. She'd been trying to outrun her father's dubious legacy for some time now, but damn it, history was proving fast and tireless.

She stroked Artie's head until he fell back to sleep and then she put a pillow against the headboard and leaned back. As she stated at the Caravaggio over the fireplace, she let the debate between her past and her present fill the dark, quiet hours.



Chapter 19



The next morning, Callie put Artie on a leash and headed off at the crack of dawn for a walk. By the time they came back down Buona Fortuna's driveway, the dog was exhausted. Unlike her, he didn't have to work off anxiety and dismay, two great energizers along the lines of caffeine and rocket fuel.


They'd walked along the side of the road for miles, all the way into Weston, the next town over. She'd finally forced herself to turn back, because however keyed up she was, walking to the New Hampshire border wouldn't accomplish anything other than wearing out her running shoes. Besides, Artie was starting to droop.

When she approached the house, the garage doors were open and Mrs. Walker's Jaguar was gone, which meant Jack had left for the day. He'd taken to driving his mother's car because it was an automatic and he couldn't shift with his arm in a cast. Looking at the empty bay, she was disappointed that she'd missed an opportunity to try and apologize to him again.

After she let the dog into the kitchen, she said good morning to Thomas and went up to the garage. She'd just turned on the big light and settled in when she heard footsteps come up the stairs. She turned and was surprised to see Jack.

His eyes met hers, but he didn't smile.

"I'd thought you'd gone," she said, putting down the wooden stick she was about to wind with cotton. "I'm working from home today." He walked across the room to a window, hands in the pockets of his jeans, a thick Irish sweater bringing out the darkness of his hair. Weak sunlight fell across his face as he scanned the sky.

"About last night," she began. "I really want to apologize. I was frustrated and angry—”

"And honest, maybe?" He looked at her over his shoulder.

"Jack—”

"I need to make something clear."

"Okay," she said, putting her hands on her knees and leaning forward to ease the tension in her shoulders.

"I told you I wanted more out of this relationship than sex and a little affection. I'm greedy by nature so I won't settle for second best. I never do. I want all of you, Callie. Not just the pretty bits and pieces." He faced her. "I want to know about your past because it's part of you. Not because I'm worried about how it will affect me."

"I believe you."

"So talk to me."

She started to shake her head. "It's not that simple."

"You say you love me, but how can you if you don't trust me enough to share all the parts of your life with me? Are you worried something will change my opinion of you? Because nothing will. There isn't anything you could tell me that would make me pull back."

She glanced down at her hands and wondered whether she was really worried about that. Did she honestly think he would bolt just because she was a bastard? Of course not.

Jack's voice darkened. "I'll tell you what, though. This silence could drive me away."

Callie looked up, searching his face for the courage she knew she needed to find in herself. She took a deep breath.

This was Jack, she told herself. This was Jack. This was Jack. This was—

Feeling like she was leaping into a black hole, she blurted out, "My father and mother were never married."

His face changed instantly. It was as if he'd relaxed and become saddened for her at the same time.

"My father was married to another woman. He had a family, a whole life, outside of my mother and me and we were the lesser of the two. He never acknowledged me in any formal way; his name's not even on my birth certificate."

Jack came over and she felt his strong hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"I—I grew up knowing that we were always second best. That he loved my mother just enough to never let her go free." She leaned into him, resting her head on his hip. As she did, he made some sort of quiet noise, an encouragement to keep talking mixed with the regret he was obviously feeling. "I watched his burial from a stand of birches, fifty yards away from the gravesite. I only knew about the ceremony at all because I followed my half sister without her knowing it."