Driftwood Cottage. Sherryl Woods

“if Heather and little Mick need anything, I’ll take care of it. They’re not your concern.”

      Mick scowled at him. “Family’s family,” he responded flatly. “No matter how they came to be that way.”

      Sensing that an explosion was just seconds away, Heather looked from one man to the other. “My son and I are just fine. If we need help from anyone, I know how to ask for it. Now, why don’t we enjoy this meal that Nell has made. The pot roast is delicious.”

      “It is, indeed,” Thomas chimed in enthusiastically. “Ma, you still make the best pot roast I’ve ever tasted.”

      “And I want you to teach me, Gram,” Bree said. “Jake says I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

      “You don’t have any patience,” Nell told her. “And it’ll only get worse once you have that baby you’re carrying. You won’t have two seconds to concentrate on the meal you’re preparing.”

      “Now that’s discouraging,” Jake said with an exaggerated groan.

      Nell gave him a chiding look. “Stop your complaining. That baby is yours, young man. And I’ll see to it the two of you don’t starve to death, the same way I did around here when Megan had her hands full with all of you.”

      Bree grinned. “Thanks, Gram.”

      Abby had listened to the exchange quietly, then turned to her grandmother. “You haven’t offered to set foot in my kitchen,” she said, feigning a pout. “I’m a working mother, too.”

      “With a husband who works at home,” Gram said. “And a nanny.” She wagged a finger at the rest of them. “Don’t any of you be getting ideas about this. I’m not providing meals on wheels at this stage of my life. One of these days, I expect somebody to take over these Sunday dinners as well.”

      Heather laughed at the audible groans from around the table.

      “Please don’t let it be Mom,” Kevin pleaded.

      Megan looked up at the comment, chuckling. “Little chance of that, I assure you. Like Bree, I can probably keep us from starving, and maybe not even poison anybody along the way, but it won’t be anything like Nell’s meals. I vote we nominate and train someone else.” She turned her gaze to Kevin. “Didn’t you have to prepare meals for a crowd when you were an EMT? There’s nothing that says a man can’t take over these family meals, right?”

      Kevin looked a little pale. “Now, hold on here,” he began, but Shanna was already nodding. “He makes a terrific spaghetti and meatballs, and his lasagna’s not bad, either.”

      Mick scowled at his older son. “Where’d you learn to cook, boy? At the Gianellis’? You didn’t learn Italian cooking from Ma, I guarantee that.”

      “Hey, you put me in the kitchen, you eat what I know how to cook,” Kevin retorted.

      Heather chuckled at the exchange. There was something about this family that never failed to enchant her. Growing up as an only child, she’d envisioned scenes just like this one. And here she was, in the middle of one of them … yet not quite a part of it.

      She risked a glance toward Connor and saw that he was studying her, sympathy in his eyes. He knew how much she’d wanted this, understood what moments like this meant to her. And yet he’d still denied her the right to claim this family as her own. Even if they’d stayed together on his terms, she’d have felt like an outsider here, no matter how welcoming everyone tried to be.

      Suddenly fighting tears, she pushed back her chair, murmured an excuse, then fled the dining room.

      Grabbing her coat from the hall closet, she went outside and ran across the yard, oblivious to the rain. Standing on the edge of the cliff, she studied the pounding white-caps on the normally placid bay. The tumult matched the feelings roiling inside of her.

      “Heather?”

      Connor, of course. She turned to find him holding her scarf, her gloves and an umbrella. It was almost enough to put a smile back on her face. Almost, but not quite.

      “You should come back inside,” he said, a worried frown on his face.

      She shook her head. She didn’t want to face the curious stares or the unspoken questions about what had upset her. She saw the same puzzlement on Connor’s face, even though he should have known exactly what sent her running from the house.

      “Want me to drive you home?” he asked. “I can bring the baby back later.”

      She regarded him gratefully. “Would you mind?”

      “If that’s what you really want, I’ll be happy to take you.”

      “It’s what I want,” she said at once.

      “Okay, then,” he said, though he looked vaguely disappointed.

      He led the way to his car, settled her inside, then turned on the heater. It was mostly a wasted effort, since they’d be at her apartment before it warmed up much. They rode in silence for the few minutes it took to reach the alley that ran behind the shops and apartments.

      “I’m sorry,” he said as she was about to open the door.

      She paused and met his gaze. “For?”

      He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “I know how badly you wanted to be part of a big family. It must be hard to be there in the middle of mine.”

      She nodded. “It just makes me think about what could have been, that’s all. Don’t blame yourself. It’s not as if you dangled some promise in front of me and then yanked it away.”

      He shook his head. “But in a way, that’s exactly what I did, and I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

      Heather sighed. “I know that. Sometimes things just happen. I should go inside, and you need to get back. Please apologize to everyone for me.”

      “No apology necessary. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, okay? I’ll wait till after the baby has his nap before I bring him home. That way you’ll have time to get some rest, too.”

      “I’ll probably go downstairs,” she said. “I need to catch up on some things in the shop.”

      “You need rest more,” he said.

      “Looking after me isn’t your job any longer,” she told him, trying to protect herself from the way his caring made her feel. It might be an illusion, but she felt cherished.

      He shrugged. “I can’t help it. Old habits are hard to break. I’ll bring some leftovers when I come. You barely touched your meal, and you completely missed dessert. Word is it’s Gram’s apple pie. There’s none better. I’ll bring you a slice.”

      She chuckled. “You’re no better than your dad, you know. You’re trying to fatten me up.”

      Connor winced at the comparison, then shrugged it off. “I’m bringing the pie, and I’m going to sit right here while you eat every bite. You’ll thank me later.”

      The temptation to slide over and kiss him was suddenly so overwhelming, Heather forced herself to throw open the car door and bolt without responding. Only after she was upstairs in her apartment, with the door safely locked behind her, did she release the breath she’d been holding.

      Heaven help her! When an O’Brien turned on the charm and showed his soft, caring side, what mortal woman could possibly resist? And yet somehow, she knew she had to. Her future depended on it.

      When Connor had seen Heather standing on the edge of the cliff with rain soaking her, he’d wanted desperately to sweep her into his arms and carry her into the house, into his bed and spend the rest of the afternoon warming her up with his body heat. He’d settled for handing her gloves and scarf to her and holding an umbrella over her head because he’d known she would allow no more. Her wary gaze had been a warning to tread carefully.