Reid's Runaway Bride

Well, hell.

Reid shook his head and swallowed a silent groan. Nope, he didn’t have to worry about falling in love with Daisy again. That would be impossible.

He’d never stopped loving her to begin with.

* * *

There were men who could enter a room, not say a word, not do anything but stand in stillness, and every other person in that space would pause, turn and look. Reid Foster was such a man. He’d always had this quality, this...charismatic, magnetic aura, even as a boy.

So, despite her tiredness or the fact that she faced the opposite direction, Daisy sensed Reid’s presence the instant he entered the kitchen. She didn’t move or greet him or show any sign that she knew he stood behind her. Rather, she just waited.

For the coffee, which she desperately needed. For him, to set the tone, the cadence, of how they were going to start the day. In polite resignation or veiled hostility? With sexual innuendo or calm solidarity? She hoped for the solidarity. That somehow they would find a way to cross the minefield to band together, for the sake of Parker and her nieces, and become a...team.

But she wasn’t holding her breath.

“Darlin’, you must be a psychic. Or a genie,” Reid said, his voice rich and warm and holding the tiniest thread of amusement. The warmth got to her the most, brought to mind all of those yesteryears she’d spent the entirety of the night trying to forget. “If any man on the face of God’s green earth could use a cup of coffee right about now, that man would be me.”

“Sorry. Not a psychic or a genie,” Daisy replied, keeping her tone casual, confused by his. His warmth, his friendliness, his outward acceptance of her bore no resemblance to the man from last night. The question was...why? “Jinx tattled on you. Mentioned you were on the owly side, in need of sustenance and caffeine.”

In truth, she’d been on her way to the kitchen when she overheard Reid’s conversation with her dog. And she’d had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing out loud.

“That’s...ah, rather perplexing,” Reid said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Which part?”

“All of it.” Before she could blink, he was standing next to her, reaching into the cupboard for a couple of coffee mugs. “To start, I have no idea what owly means. To finish...your dog mentioned I wanted coffee and food? How does that work, exactly?”

“Owly means cranky.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, so Reid would think the reaction was due to being cold and not his close proximity. Too bad she couldn’t fool herself. “And yes, Jinx and I have a method of communicating that defies logic.”

“Uh-huh. Then why does she still hate men?” He looked around the room. “Where is she, anyway? Hiding out somewhere, ready to attack?”

“Nope. She’s sleeping in the living room. Seems her quick sojourn outside this morning wore her out.” Or maybe Jinx’s feisty altercation with the man of the house had done that. Daisy could recall a few altercations—on the pleasant side of the equation—with Reid that had left her exhausted. “As to the other? I told you. I trained her to be that way.”

“Right,” he said matter-of-factly. “To protect you from the unwanted attention of men, I take it? Since you’re a single woman living in L.A.”

“Well, you know, can’t be too careful.” Come on, coffee, Daisy thought, staring at the ridiculously slow drip, drip, drip of the machine. She needed the distraction as much, if not more, as she needed the caffeine. “What about you? Do you have a woman-hating dog waiting in the wings, to protect you from the unwanted attention of females?”

“Nah.” Reid gave her a lazy, sexy sort of smile. She felt that smile all the way to her toes. Not good. Not good at all. “Haven’t found the need.”

“Gotcha.” He hadn’t found the need because he wanted female attention or...? Striking out that thought—fast—Daisy put a few inches of space between her and Reid. Just to simplify the mechanics of breathing. “Um. So, when do the girls usually wake up? Breakfast will be done soon. Baked French toast. Cinnamon. I hope they like cinnamon.”

“Should be any minute. In fact—” Reid inhaled, as if drawing in strength “—we should probably have a quick discussion on how to handle their questions.”

“Sure,” she said, content to move into safer territory. “Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m their aunt, here to stay with them while their father recovers. But you’ll still be here, so their schedules won’t change too much in that regard.” While this conversation didn’t seem to be heading into the same danger zone as last night, she had every intention of standing her ground. “That is what we decided, right? Unless you’ve changed your mind about staying here?”

“Nope, can’t say that I have.” Reid grabbed the coffeepot and filled his mug and then hers. “But I thought we’d have some time while the girls were in school to talk things over. School’s canceled for the day, though, so—”

“There’s no school today?” a soft, tentative voice said from the other side of the kitchen. “And you’re my aunt Daisy? Really and truly?”

“Hey there, peanut,” Reid said. “And the answer is yes, to both of your questions.”

Turning, Daisy took a good, long look at her younger niece, Megan. And her heart melted into a big, wet puddle. Megan’s doe-brown eyes and fine light blond hair reminded Daisy of the girls’ mother. Sweet and fragile and innocent beyond words.

“Morning, Megan,” she said brightly. “And yes, I’m your aunt Daisy.”

“I don’t remember you.” Then, shyly dropping her gaze, Megan said, “But I sleep with the doll you gave me for Christmas almost every night. I named her Holly.”

“Holly is a wonderful name, and I’m happy you like her so much.” Crossing the room, Daisy kneeled in front of the little girl and resisted the almost overwhelming desire to pull her close for a hug. “It’s okay that you don’t remember me. You were only two the last time I saw you. But I’m glad we can be together now, and I promise we’ll have lots of fun.”

Long lashes blinked. Ever so slowly, Megan raised her chin until her eyes met Daisy’s. A small, hesitant smile appeared. “I like fun. Erin does, too.” And then, as if worried that Daisy might not know—or remember—who Erin was, she said, “Erin is my sister. She’s seven. I’m five. And she has hair that looks like yours.”

“Does she?” Daisy knew this, of course, as Parker sent a photo of the girls with his Christmas card each year. “The red hair comes from your grandmother. My—and your daddy’s—mom. Just like your beautiful blond hair comes from—”

Uh-oh. Was it taboo to mention Bridget? She glanced toward Reid, hoping he’d give her some type of a signal, but his attention was focused on Megan.

“My mommy,” Megan elaborated, her voice carrying a note of pride. Sadness, too, but that was natural. “I...I don’t remember her much. But Daddy says that all the time about my hair.”

Daisy’s throat closed in emotion. “Yes, that’s what I was going to say. That you remind me of your mother,” she said gently. “Ready for breakfast?”

Before Megan could reply, Reid—who had quietly watched their exchange while sipping his coffee—asked, “Is this a color day, peanut?”

A curious question. Just one more to ask later. And, not that she’d admit this, but her few seconds of talking with Megan had made it all-too-obvious how badly Daisy required Reid’s input. She was even...grateful for any help he was willing to give. Now, more than ever, it seemed essential that she didn’t screw this up.

Megan wrinkled her nose in thought before giving her head a decisive shake no.

“Well, then. A rainbow day it is,” Reid said easily. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get your sister while your aunt and I serve breakfast?”

“Okay.” Megan started to reach for Daisy and then stopped, as if unsure. Daisy opened her arms and waited, sensing the decision needed to remain in Megan’s hands. One second passed. Two seconds. Three... And then, all at once, the little girl pushed herself forward and hugged her tight. “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered before letting go.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” After Megan dashed out of the kitchen in search of her sister, Daisy said, “That went better than I expected. She’s a sweet little thing, isn’t she?”

“Yup, she is.” Reid began setting the table. Taking his lead, Daisy removed the baking dish of French toast from the oven. A few minutes of not-too-awkward silence ensued. Once he’d poured the orange juice, he said, “You were good with her, Daisy. And...well, I’ve reached a decision I feel is only fair to share with you.”

“Um. Thank you.” An unexplainable shiver of apprehension and foreboding brought a coating of goose bumps to Daisy’s arms. “What decision might that be?”

“Well, it’s like this,” Reid said in a slow and purposeful cadence. “I walked in here this morning all set to make the best of this situation, and there you were, hunkered over the coffeepot in that flannel getup you’re wearing. And I was smacked with a...profound realization.”

Heat, instant and intense, appeared dead-center in her stomach. “Profound?”

“Significantly so.” Facing her, Reid gently tipped her chin so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “To me, anyway.”

Trouble. “Are we speaking of the coffee?” she asked, going for brevity. “Because while I agree that the first cup in the morning is important, to call it profound is—”

“No, honey. Not the coffee.” While he spoke, he traced her lips with his fingers as if he’d done so every day for years on end, eliciting another series of shivers. From the touch itself, yes, but also from the waves of desire traveling through. “This is about us, Daisy. You and I.”

She tried to think. Lord, did she try. “Our past? We can have that conversation. I mean, now probably isn’t the best time, with the girls and breakfast and—”

“We will. But no, this isn’t the right time.” His voice held assurance. Confidence. “I’m speaking of now, not our past. And, sweetheart, you should know that in my opinion we—meaning you and I—are not done.”

“Is this another game?” Swallowing, hard, she pulled herself free. “If so, I’m not interested in games, Reid. I told you last night that I’m here for Parker and my nieces, not to...not for any other reason.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“Then what is this about?” Her heart hammered against her breastbone and her mouth went dry. “Because if you’re alluding to—”

“Now see, that is exactly what I’m not doing.” An easy, carefree grin lit his countenance. All innocence and charm. “My goal here is to be very clear about my intentions.”

“And those intentions are...what?”

“The same as they were seven years and nine months ago.” Determination firmed his jaw, straightened the line of his mouth. “If you recall, you mentioned in your goodbye letter—you know the one, from our wedding day?—that you still wanted to marry me, just not on that day.”

Where could he possibly be going with this? “I thought we established that this wasn’t the proper time to have this conversation. But yes, I...wrote something along those lines.”

“Good, glad you remember.” He leaned against the counter in a too-casual-to-be-truly-casual pose. “You also stated that you hoped—if fate was on our side—we might have a second chance at forever,” he said, his tone quiet. Focused. “Do you recall those sentiments, as well?”

“Um...I...yes, but—” Syllable by syllable, his words crashed into her brain with the force of an out-of-control semitruck. “Why are you asking these questions?”

“Because what that letter boils down to is a contract. At the very least, a promise from you to me.” Satisfaction and pleasure whooshed into his expression, his eyes, his very being. “You owe me a wedding, Daisy. And I plan to collect.”

“Wh-what?” Huh-uh. Impossible. She’d heard him wrong. “I owe you what?”

“A wedding, Daisy. Our wedding.”

“Is this a joke?” she asked, finding her voice. “Has to be a joke, right? Because no man anywhere would decide to marry a woman he hasn’t seen for eight years.”

Not to mention, marrying the woman who’d left him standing at the altar.

“Oh, I’m not joking.” Reid pushed himself off the counter and strode to the large calendar hanging on the opposite wall. “How does April sound to you?” he asked, flipping the pages as he spoke. “Though, Cole and Rachel’s wedding is the nineteenth. Is March too soon? Probably. I’d like Parker to be there. I suppose we could shoot for May again, but—”

“Payback? Is this a form of retribution?” When he didn’t respond, when he did nothing but stare at her in a mix of pleasure and confidence, her knees wobbled enough that she had to move to one of the kitchen chairs to sit down. “What’s the punch line, Reid?”

“Love,” he said simply.

“Do you realize how insane you sound?”

“Marriage.”

“Delusional, too. And there isn’t any way I’m buying in to—”

“Maybe even a few children down the road.” He let go of the calendar and took the chair next to Daisy. “I’ve always thought three kids was a nice, round number. What do you think?”

Love. Marriage. Children. Everything she’d once wanted with this man. Everything she’d once ran away from. Everything she’d long since decided wasn’t for her.

“You can’t really expect me to believe that you’re serious. And...and this isn’t funny,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly. In order to get through that megathick skull of his. “You’re joking. Or playing a game. Or you’re out for revenge. Or—”

“None of the above,” Reid said firmly. “I’m not only serious about this, Daisy, I’m committed. Guess I’ll be working on proving that to you.”

She had more to say. Much, much more, but the sounds of two little girls running down the stairs made any further discussion impossible. He was joking. He had to be joking.

But what if...what if he wasn’t?

Chapter Four

The loss of Reid’s sanity didn’t feel as frightening as he would have expected. Odd, perhaps, but his sudden decision to pursue Daisy seemed almost inescapable. Preordained by fate, even. That was the instinct he’d fought against all night.

Of course, he hadn’t planned on stating his intentions quite so explicitly. Rather, he thought he’d announce his interest and his desire to get to know her again, and then go about the business of courting her. But in the blink of an eye, the details of her letter had appeared in his mind. She had declared it doubtful that her love for him would disappear.

She had written her hope that they’d have another chance. Those were her words, not his.

So, no, the idea of planning a wedding hadn’t occurred to him until that second. But damn, he sort of liked the idea. Insane? Oh, hell yeah. High-risk? Yup, that, too. She could very well shoot him down from now until the actual wedding date and return to her life in California without so much as a glance over her shoulder. Or, he supposed, with or without a letter of goodbye. And hell, that would be rough, going through that mess all over again.

Truth was, though, he’d rather give this crazy idea everything he had and hope for a superior outcome than not try at all. Hope offered possibilities.

He wanted those possibilities. Because, whether he’d realized it until now or not, his gut told him they belonged together. And what better way to proceed than with purpose and intent?

Daisy wouldn’t stick around forever. And, unless this aspect of her personality had changed, she didn’t pay much attention to the subtle. A wedding, though? Nothing subtle about a wedding. That would grab and hold her notice—it already had—and while they were dancing around that topic, he’d begin tackling the obstacles, one by one, they’d need to confront.

And, if he had his say, move beyond.

Swallowing another gulp of coffee, Reid leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table and winked at Daisy, who was in the middle of a conversation with the girls.

She faltered, narrowed her eyes slightly, regained her focus and said, “Since there isn’t any school today, I thought we could play a few games. How does that sound?”

Megan nodded enthusiastically but didn’t try to talk through her chewing. Erin, on the other hand, shook her head and frowned. “I don’t want to play a game.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy said without pause. “We can do something else. Maybe...draw pictures for your dad? Or some get-well cards?”

“He likes our pictures and cards,” Megan said. “He says we’re artists.”

“No. We colored pictures and cards for Daddy yesterday.” Erin stabbed her fork into a bite-size square of her French toast. Glancing at Reid, she said, “Didn’t we?”

“We did, but I’m sure your father would love more,” Reid said, surprised by Erin’s quick opposition to Daisy’s suggestions. “Is there something else you’d like to do today, monkey?”

“Build a snowman,” she said instantly. “With you.”

Meaning, he guessed, not with Daisy. Hmm. “Well,” he said, trying to figure out the reason for the child’s negativity. Erin didn’t easily warm up to new folks, so he’d expected some shyness on her part. But he hadn’t seen this coming. “It’s a little too wild out there for building snowmen right now. Probably best if we focus on indoor ideas.”

“You can read us a book,” Erin said, without looking at Daisy. “Or...or—”

“But I want to play with Aunt Daisy!” Megan said. “And books are for bedtime.”

“Not always,” Daisy said, her voice warm and relaxed. “Books are good for anytime you want to read—or hear—a story. So, Reid can read to Erin, and you and I—” Daisy pointed to Megan “—can do something else. Games or coloring or whatever you want.”

“No!” Erin’s mouth formed into a pout. “We always play together.”

“That isn’t true,” Megan said. “So don’t say it is!”

“Almost always, so it is true!” Erin vaulted from her chair. “I’m older and Daddy isn’t here and I’m in charge. R-Reid is going to tell us a story and she can do something else!”

“Whoa, now,” Reid interjected, taken aback by Erin’s vehemence. Even so, he kept his tone calm, modulated. “First off, kiddo, you don’t get to dictate what Megan does, and I think you know that.” He waited for Erin to nod. When she did, he added, “Okay, good. Also, there isn’t any call to be rude. Please apologize.”

“Sorry, Megan,” Erin said quietly.

“Okay,” Megan said. “Just don’t say stuff that isn’t true.”

“But we almost always—”

“Girls, let’s not start a new argument when we’re in the middle of making up.” Reid paused and looked at Erin. “Is there something you’d like to say to your aunt now?”

“Not really,” Erin said, sounding far more like a teenager than a seven-year-old girl. “I just don’t want to play with her today.”

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Reid said. “Please apologize to your aunt.”

“Reid,” Daisy said quickly. “She doesn’t have to—”

“Yes, she does. Parker might not be here at the moment, but his rules still hold,” Reid said, attempting to achieve the right balance of maintaining boundaries and showing compassion. “You tell me, Erin. What would your dad say if he was here right now?”

Erin’s chin quivered. “That it is okay to show how we feel but it isn’t okay to be rude or...or hurtful to other people.”

“Yup, that’s right,” Reid said. “And what do you think he would want you to do?”

Blinking rapidly, as if to stop herself from crying, Erin looked from Reid to Daisy and then at the floor. “I’m s-sorry for being rude.”

“It’s really okay, Erin. This is new and sudden,” Daisy said softly, looking as if she might burst into tears herself. “Thank you for the apology. And...I hope we can spend some time together later. If you want to, that is.”

Shrugging, Erin spun on her heel and just about flew from the kitchen. Megan dropped her fork on her plate and started to stand, her intent to follow her sister fairly obvious. She hesitated and glanced at Reid with questions in her eyes.

He nodded and she took off. Sighing, Reid raked his fingers over his short hair. He wanted to sit down with Erin right now and reassure her that everything was going to be fine. But she needed to calm down some before she’d be willing to share whatever was bothering her.

So he’d wait. Not too long, though.

“She isn’t normally like that, Daisy,” he said. “I’ll go talk with her in a few minutes, see if I can work out what the issue is.” Daisy nodded and busied herself with clearing the dishes from the table. “She’ll adjust, I’m sure. Just give her a little time.”

“I hope so, and I will,” Daisy said. “I...I almost see myself when I look at Erin.”

“Not surprised. You resemble one another.”

“The hair, yes. But she has her mother’s eyes, like her sister, and the narrow Lennox nose.” Now at the sink, Daisy began rinsing off the breakfast dishes. “If it wasn’t for our red hair, I’m not sure anyone would see a physical resemblance. There was just something about the way she looked at me that seemed familiar.”

“It’s more than the color of your hair.” Surprised that Daisy hadn’t yet lit into him over his wedding proclamation, Reid gathered the drinking glasses and considered how to proceed. Go full bore or take a slower, gentler approach? “You share similar mannerisms and a propensity toward separating yourself from most other folks.”

Daisy gave him a sidelong glance that suggested she was rearing up to clock him on the jaw. “Are you insinuating that my niece and I are self-absorbed?”

“Maybe. But only in the best possible light.”

“Not quite sure how you can get ‘best possible light’ out of self-absorbed.”

“Perhaps ‘choosy’ is a better description,” he said, joining her at the sink. She continued to rinse and, as she did, he loaded the dishwasher. “Nothing wrong with that.”

And there wasn’t. Daisy tended to keep others at a distance until she determined if they could be trusted with her thoughts, dreams...that inner world of hers. Erin was the same. Most folks were to a certain extent, but some were more cautious, more particular, in who they let in.

“Honestly, I think she took one look at me and decided she doesn’t like me.” Pain and sorrow deepened the blue in Daisy’s eyes. “I should’ve tried harder before.”

“She hasn’t decided anything as of yet.” Reid didn’t comment on the rest. There wasn’t any reason to rub additional salt into the wound. He’d done a good enough job of that last night. “And you’re here now. It isn’t too late to build a connection.”

“Maybe, but it seems I have my work cut out for me.” Sidestepping him, she wiped off the table and resituated the chairs. When she finished, she faced him and arched an eyebrow. “And just to avoid any confusion, I want to be absolutely clear that I’m not going to allow you to indulge in some stupid game. I do not owe you a wedding. End of discussion.”

Well, then. Full bore it was. “I believe I was already clear when I said that you did. And this discussion is far from over.”

“Stop.” Narrowed eyes met his. With a stubborn lift of her chin, she took one long step toward him. “This wedding talk of yours is nonsense. As I just said, I have my work cut out for me. I do not have time to deal with...with whatever you’re trying to prove.”

“We both have a lot of work in front of us,” he said. “Planning our last wedding took close to a year, so supposing we settle on May, we still only have a couple of months.” Unable to stop himself, he grinned. “March or April will leave us with even less time.”

“There is nothing to plan!” Now the green in her eyes took precedence over the blue. From anger, no doubt, but desire had always had the same effect. “You are not due a wedding.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree. A contract was made, a promise was implied.” Shrugging, he said, “And, Daisy, you reneged on both.”

“Is this because you want to talk about what I did? If so, just say that! We can talk. Right now, for however long you’d like. Otherwise, you need to...cease and desist.”

“Sorry.” He whisked his thumb along the soft curve of her cheek, her skin warming beneath his touch. “That’s the one thing I cannot do.”