Christmas at the Cove. Rachel Brimble

hummed through Carrie as she took another fortifying sip of her martini. So the man who fathered her child was a player. Perfect. Despite giving herself to him on a plate three years ago, a small part of her still wanted to believe she had Scott all wrong and their time together was as much a life-changing moment for him as it was her.

      Had she imagined the soft fascination she’d seen in his eyes when he looked at her? Had she really been wrong in assuming there was nowhere else he’d rather be than with her...just as she had felt about him?

      Shame infused her and Carrie inhaled a deep breath, dragging up her unending tenacity. Everything would work out for the best. Belle’s beautiful face filled her mind’s eye. It had to.

      She studied the bartender as he moved back and forth behind the bar, and narrowed her eyes. She cleared her throat. “So, Scott is still in Templeton?”

      He came toward her and planted his hands on the bar. “If we’re talking about Scott Walker with dark hair, works out, has a smile that makes women weak at the damn knees because he’s got that whole miserable, broody thing going on...”

      Carrie smiled. “Yep, that sounds like him.”

      The bartender grinned. “So, you go in for misery rather than mirth, huh?”

      “I’m not in for either right now. I’m in town for a few days, so I thought I’d look him up.” Carrie struggled to retain an aloof facade as her knee bounced out of control against the bar. “It’s been a while since I last saw him.”

      He whipped a cloth from the waistband of his trousers and slapped it onto the bar. “Well, I might be reading things wrong here, but from where I’m standing, Scott Walker’s the only guy around here confident enough to let a woman as beautiful as you slip through his fingers, that’s for sure.”

      She lowered her eyes. “Maybe.”

      “Hey.”

      She looked up. “What?”

      The bartender’s teasing expression softened. “He’s a good guy. Scott’s just not interested in settling down, and he makes sure he doesn’t ever lead a woman on to think otherwise. He’s one of the good guys.”

      Carrie nodded, fighting the urge to spit feathers. This guy actually sounded in awe of a bona fide womanizer.

      “Nope. Despite his reluctance to get involved, I’ve never seen Scott treat women with anything but kindness and respect.” He winked. “If it makes you feel better, I’m sure he’ll be more than pleased to see you. I haven’t seen him with a woman for a while. He must be getting kind of lonely.”

      The ill-disguised innuendo in his tone set Carrie’s teeth on edge. “Didn’t I just show you my wedding band?”

      “Sure, but who wouldn’t want you turning up the week before Christmas, looking pretty enough to decorate their tree?”

      Carrie glared. “I’m not here for some grandiose idea of an illicit affair. He’s...a work associate, that’s all.”

      He lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

      She held his gaze. “Really.”

      He studied her for a moment longer before he shrugged. “If you say so.”

      Frustration and the need to stick the guy in the eye with a needle hummed through her, so Carrie took a deep breath and glanced around the bar. “So...do you know where I can find the town’s Casanova, by any chance?”

      “Where he always is. He’ll be working at the shop tomorrow. I suspect he’ll be there right up to Christmas Eve. He’s a hardworking guy.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “But if he’s a work associate, shouldn’t you already know that?”

      Carrie glowered. “Fine, I lied. So, what’s the shop?”

      “The garage on Stiller Street. It’s his. He owns it.” He moved along the bar to serve a businessman scowling at a bottle of Scotch behind the bar like it was a mirage in the middle of the desert. “Yes, sir. What can I get you?”

      Carrie studied the bartender through narrowed lids. Decorate his tree? Pleased to see me? Well, no doubt she’d soon obliterate Scott Walker’s love-’em-and-leave-’em lifestyle the minute she told him about Belle. It seemed her daughter’s biological father was about as ready to be a daddy as Santa Claus was to go on a diet.

      Picking up her glass, Carrie finished the martini in a single gulp and winced against the rush of liquor. The need to flee home pulsed through her but she tamped it down. She had to find Scott or else the perpetual cloak of guilt she wore for keeping Belle a secret from him would never be discarded. How could she face Belle’s inevitable questions about her father in the future without knowing she’d done her utmost to involve him in her life?

      At least the bartender’s words had lessened her fear of being as attracted to Scott today as she was when they met. Time and experience had changed Carrie in the last three years and there was little chance of her to succumbing again to a pair of deep blue eyes and a body like brick.

      She stood. She’d go to bed and pray for Scott’s disinterest in both her and Belle. That would be the best Christmas present she could ask for. Tomorrow, she’d track down his garage on Stiller Street and face Scott head on. Tell him about Belle and if his attitude was as vile as she suspected it would be, she wouldn’t even have to suggest they find a mutually satisfying way of taking their parenting forward. Belle was her priority and Carrie had no interest in exposing her to some Lothario who had zero interest in being a daddy.

      If he didn’t want anything to do with Belle, so be it. She hadn’t returned to Templeton on a witch-hunt.

      She placed some cash from her purse onto the bar and left, renewed determination echoing in every click of her high-heeled boots against marble.

      * * *

      THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Scott winced as the wrench he held slipped from his grasp and scraped roughly across the knuckles of his other hand, splitting his skin wide open. “Goddamn it.”

      The metal tool clattered to the darkened pit floor and he kicked it against the wall in frustration. It was barely lunchtime and his concentration was shot. Snatching a rag from the car’s engine, he wrapped it around the wound and glared at the underside of the car suspended above him. How the hell was he supposed to get any work done when nothing but a blond-haired woman with the sexiest figure known to man circled his damn mind?

      Just like the first time he’d seen Carrie years before, the same lightning struck him immobile. He had no idea what it was about her, or why, but Carrie’s allure was too strong to ignore. All he cared about was his family, yet this woman had the ability to make him think about the life he led before and after her. It was as though she was a pivotal part of his very existence...and he hated it.

      If it was her he saw last night, then what? He had plans. Plans that didn’t involve a woman who took his damn heart and then tossed it aside.

      Scowling, he braced his good hand on the top of the pit and heaved himself out onto the garage floor. She’d taken his heart, yet he couldn’t ignore the fact his reluctance to get involved meant he hadn’t made any attempt to find Carrie, either. He was equally as guilty of tossing her heart aside...if there was any chance she felt the same way he did.

      Yanking open the buttons on his overalls, he shrugged them down to his waist and stalked over to the sink. He removed the rag and washed his injured hand, memories rising in his conscience. He was all too aware of his reputation as a womanizer around town and he’d done little to correct the gossip, not caring what people thought...but now, with the potential that Carrie could be back, the rumors worried him.

      He turned off the faucet and replaced the rag with paper towels from the box on the wall. One by one the women he’d dated crept into his mind. None of them had hit the spot in his heart Carrie had, or even come close. So he walked away. Time and again. Did that make him a bad guy? Maybe, maybe not, but as far as Scott was concerned,