The Road Not Taken (The Daddy Diaries) Page 3

  The words hit with the impact of flaming arrows, which was Dean’s intention. Jake missed his parents. As annoying as Dean could be, he missed his brother, too. And then there were Bonnie and the kids. They were a tight-knit family.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah. I know.” His brother had snorted. “So, you’re in Vermont to make a fresh start?”

  Jake had said nothing.

  “That’s what I thought. If I believed you really wanted to be here, that would be different. But you’re here basically hiding out,” he accused a second time. “And while you’re busy with your pity party, Mom and Dad are left hurting, and my kids are left to wonder why their uncle moved to another state and is living like a hermit.”

  “You don’t get it,” Jake had snapped. “I did this for you. I did this for all of you.”

  “No, bro. We can take care of ourselves. You did this for yourself. You did this because, in addition to the nasty fallout from that unfortunate police raid, you can’t face what Miranda did.”

  Jake had grabbed his brother by the shirt. The old rage boiled inside him, tempting him to take a swing. Instead, he’d let Dean loose, found his coat and headed out into the storm. His temper had yet to subside when he’d spied Caro through the falling snow.

  He glanced at her now from the door that led to the kitchen. He couldn’t hear what she was saying into the telephone receiver, but she wasn’t happy. The rigid set of her shoulders and the down-turned corners of her mouth said as much.

  What was her story?

  There was more to it than she claimed, of that Jake was sure. He might no longer be a cop, but his instincts when it came to people were still good. She didn’t fit the portrait of a driven career woman. Something about her was too soft for the hard-edged, high-stakes business world. And the quality of her clothes screamed high society, even if her car had screamed penny-pincher. Yet she’d endangered her life to meet a deadline.

  Why?

  She said it was important. Something illegal? His gut told him no, but Jake couldn’t shake his first impression that she was desperate.

  Not my problem, he reminded himself, putting his curiosity aside. It was back in an instant when her expression softened and her lips curved into a smile.

  Just who was on the other end of the line to make her scowl one moment and melt like butter the next?

  She twirled the phone cord around the fingers on her left hand as she spoke. No rings that he could see, but the conversation she was having now had nothing to do with business.

  I love you.

  Jake didn’t hear the words. Rather, he saw her lips form them just before she set the receiver back in its cradle. He wasn’t disappointed that she was involved with someone, even if he did find her attractive. He was past all but the most primal of feelings where women were concerned. He had his ex-wife to thank for that. Besides, he barely knew this woman. Caro hadn’t deceived him. She hadn’t betrayed him. She hadn’t had time to offer more than cursory explanations.

  If she had, would she?

  He realized he was still staring at her, probably with a scowl on his face, given her startled expression when she spied him. Her eyebrows lifted; her lips parted. He let loose a mild expletive as he levered away from the doorjamb.

  Jake never had been the life of the party. That was Dean with his easy smile and open demeanor. But these days Jake knew he came off as unapproachable. Only his family was immune to his black moods and foul temper.

  And this woman, apparently.

  Caro surprised him by crossing to where he stood.

  He said the first thing that came to mind. “Did you get through okay?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Crisis averted?”

  A shadow crept over her face. “What do you mean?”

  “The deadline you spoke of. Did you get an extension or a reprieve or … whatever?”

  She nodded. “Sort of. For now.”

  Why didn’t she look happy about it? A moment ago she’d been smiling and whispering words of love to the party on the other end of the line.

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Right.” It was said for his benefit, as was the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were saying something else. It wasn’t desperation he saw in them now. Not entirely, at least. He spied apprehension, nerves. That delayed deadline?

  More questions bubbled. After all, it was Saturday afternoon. Tomorrow was Easter Sunday. Just what kind of work was she involved in that required her to be on the clock over a holiday weekend?

  And then there was the way she’d ended the phone call. Perhaps she’d had a spat with her lover and they’d resolved it over the phone, but now she was stranded and they wouldn’t be together for the weekend.

  That was it, he decided.

  “He must be special.”

  “Very.” She sighed, and then flushed. “Wh-who?”

  Case closed. “Never mind.”

  “I also need to call a garage for a wrecker. I wonder if you might have a telephone directory?”

  He found a dog-eared book in one of the drawers at the registration desk. It was outdated by half a dozen years. Caro frowned when he handed it to her.

  “You don’t have anything more recent?”

  “No, but I doubt it will matter. The town hasn’t changed much in the past three decades.”

  Quaint, old-fashioned, it was the same year after year. That was part of its draw for tourists. That was exactly its draw for Jake now. He needed a place where his memories weren’t tainted with the stain of the events back in Buffalo.

  “Do you have a recommendation?”

  He scratched his chin, thinking. “Try Orville’s. They do towing as well as repairs, and it looks like you might have some damage.”

  This time, he left her alone to make the call, returning to the living room where his family waited. It was a bad choice if he’d hoped to avoid confrontation. His mother spoke first, which wasn’t surprising. His father preferred to stay in the background, asserting himself only when necessary, but then to great effect. Martin McCabe might be a quiet man, but he was no pushover. Still waters, according to Doreen. And she claimed that, of her two sons, Jake was the one who had inherited the quality.

  “Who is she?”

  “Just a woman who had the bad luck to have her car go off the road in a storm.”

  “A good-looking woman,” Dean mumbled, earning a smack on the arm from his wife.

  “Where is she from?”

  “Where is she heading?”

  “Where is she now?”

  His family pelted him with questions. Jake answered his mother’s first.

  “She’s calling for a tow truck. I told her to try Orville’s”

  “Is he still in business?” his father asked.

  “Apparently.”

  “Do you really think he will come out in this weather?” Dean wanted to know.

  “Not likely.”

  “Which means she’ll be spending the night here.” Doreen clicked her tongue. “Heavens, I’d better get busy cleaning up another guest room. God knows they’re not habitable in their present condition.”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Bonnie offered.

  They started toward the door.

  “There’s no need. Caro can have mine,” Jake said.

  The chivalrous gesture had his mother smiling and nodding. His brother’s grin, however, had Jake clarifying, “I’ll sleep on the couch in here.”

  “Can I sleep down here with Uncle Jake?” Riley wanted to know. He danced excitedly in a circle.

  “Me, too! Me, too!” Jillian chanted.

  “You’ll sleep upstairs with us,” Bonnie said. Before they could protest, she added, “Remember, the Easter Bunny is coming tonight. It wouldn’t do for him to stumble over a couple of sleeping children while trying to hide your baskets full of treats.”

  That quieted them, but only for a moment.

  “
When are we going to color the eggs?” Jillian asked, hopping on one foot.

  “Let’s do it now!” Riley squealed.

  “After dinner and before bath time,” their mother said.

  On their way from Montpelier’s airport, they’d stopped at a grocery store. They had everything for the holiday feast with them, from the eggs the children were itching to dye to the honey-glazed ham that would be served the following day for dinner. Doreen even had packed the fancy Irish linens the McCabes used every holiday. Jake took in the scene before him. The kids scampering about, his father smoking a pipe while seated fireside. It was so damned easy to pretend that everything was the same with his family here.

  Except that it wasn’t. Nothing was the same. This family gathering was different. Someone was missing … and he didn’t mean his ex-wife.

  He glanced toward the doorway. Caro stood there—looking tentative, looking utterly beautiful despite her damp hair and pinched expression. She was nothing like Miranda, despite their shared affinity for high-quality clothing. Miranda’s features were far sharper. The description he kept coming back to when it came to this woman was soft, fragile.

  Jake cleared his throat. “Any luck getting a tow truck to come out?”

  “No. A man answered at the place you suggested, but he said the roads were impassable and he had a dozen or so requests for assistance to handle ahead of mine. With tomorrow being a holiday, he said it would be Monday at the earliest before he could tow my car to his garage.”

  Some of that desperation leaked back into her expression. “Is there another garage I should try?”

  “Maybe. But I have a feeling they’d all tell you the same thing,” Jake replied.

  She nodded glumly.

  “Well, not to worry. You’re welcome here,” Doreen said. “You’ll take Jake’s room.”

  Her eyelids flickered. In surprise or dismay? “Oh, no. I couldn’t—”

  “He insists,” Doreen said.

  At Caro’s dubious expression, Jake added, “Actually, I do. It will save my mother and Bonnie from having to clean up another one of the guest rooms.”

  She smiled. “Well, in that case …”

  “You’d probably like a hot shower,” Doreen said. “Show her where everything is, Jake, while Bonnie and I try to come up with a change of clothes.”

  Having been given his marching orders, Jake headed for the stairs. Even though Caro was behind him, he swore he could smell the subtle, sexy scent that wafted from her person.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CARO FOLLOWED JAKE UP the stairs just past the reception desk. The oak banister wobbled under her hand and the steps creaked beneath a maroon carpet runner that was worn and faded from age.

  At the top, he turned right, bypassing two doors before stopping to open the third.

  “This is it,” he said.

  Jake stepped backward to allow her to enter the room first. She’d assumed she would follow him inside and so they wound up bumping into one another. The side of his foot came down on her big toe and the point of his elbow found her breast.

  “God, sorry.”

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  Their words were issued simultaneously and with an equal measure of awkwardness.

  “Um, are you … okay?” he asked.

  “Fine. Good thing you aren’t still wearing your boots.” Caro chose to ignore entirely the other injury she’d suffered.

  This time she was ready when Jake waved her ahead.

  The room was a good size, with a dormer wide enough to fit a desk and a sitting area comprised of two wingback chairs that flanked a fireplace. Clothes were draped over the chairs, making it clear sitting wasn’t their function these days. But the fireplace looked to be in working order, if the ashes and charred log inside the opening were any indication.

  Caro wished it were lit now. She felt as if she would never be warm again. But she didn’t ask Jake to indulge her. She’d put him through too much trouble already.

  The other main focus of the room, of course, was the bed. It was an antique brass number that she’d bet was original to the inn. She crossed to get a better look at the detail work on the tarnished headboard. As she rested one hand on the cool metal, the covers distracted her. They lay in a twisted heap in the center of the sagging mattress. Hers always looked the same by morning, no matter how diligently she tucked in the sheets. She pictured Jake there, tossing and turning. Intrigued, she nonetheless forced the image away.

  He cleared his throat, making her aware that he stood just behind her. Caro turned. She could only imagine what he was thinking.

  “You’re a restless sleeper,” she said inanely.

  His brows shot up.

  “The covers.” She motioned to them with one hand. “They’re all bunched up.”

  “I would have straightened my bed if I’d known someone besides me would be sleeping in it tonight. I wasn’t expecting company. More company, that is.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound critical,” she offered hastily. “In fact, my covers always look the same by morning.”

  His brows rose again, making her feel foolish and flustered. She didn’t care for either sensation. So, when she spoke again, her tone was no-nonsense. “Anyway, I really do appreciate your giving up your bed for me. The room is very nice. Lovely in fact.”

  His laughter startled her almost as much as the transformation humor made on his appearance.

  “It’s a dump, Caro. The whole place is.” He sobered then as he glanced around. “It wasn’t always like this and it won’t be by the time I’m finished. I’ll make it right.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to that final fierce declaration. In the end, it didn’t matter. He switched gears and returned to more practical matters.

  “There are only three bathrooms that are in working order in the entire place. One is on the main floor next to what used to be the caretaker’s quarters. The other two are up here, including the one through there.” He pointed to a door on the far side of the room. “Sorry I wasn’t able to go back for your bag, but you’ll find most of the basics—soap, shampoo, toothpaste. I think there’s even a new toothbrush in one of the vanity drawers.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She offered a smile. “It sure beats sleeping in a snowdrift.”

  “You wouldn’t be sleeping. You’d be dead.”

  Her smile vanished.

  “Sorry.” He glanced away.

  For the first time, she noticed a small, crescent-shaped scar at the corner of his left eye. She had one similar in size and shape on the underside of her chin, the result of a fall off her bike when she was six. Truman considered it a defect and had tried more than once to talk her into seeing a plastic surgeon to have it made less noticeable.

  She was glad she’d resisted. As it was, he’d managed to erase so much of her personality and her person, remaking her into an image she’d barely recognized when she gazed in the mirror. One of the first things she’d done after leaving him was to dye her hair back to something resembling its natural shade of caramel-brown. He’d preferred her as a blonde, and he knew best, after all.

  “Sorry,” Jake said again, pulling her from her musings. This time he sounded a little more irritated than contrite.

  “No need to apologize. Besides, you’re right. I was already in serious trouble when you happened along,” Caro admitted. “And I didn’t mean to stare at you just now. It’s just that I was noticing your scar.”

  On impulse she reached over and traced its smooth surface with one fingertip. He pulled backward as if she’d struck him.

  “It gives your face character.”

  “That’s putting it politely.” He didn’t sound convinced. Nor did he appear to appreciate her forwardness.

  “I have one, too.” She tilted up her chin and pointed. “See? Right here.”

  He cupped the side of her face and turned her head slightly to get a better look. His callused hand felt rough against her skin. She
told herself that was the only reason for the odd sensation his touch inspired.

  “How’d you get yours?” he asked as he withdrew his hand.

  “I fell off my bike and hit the handlebars on my way down. I was six. You?”

  “Eleven. Dean and I were horsing around and I took a header off the front porch. My mother’s stone birdbath broke my fall.” He rubbed his temple. “I wound up with a concussion and we both wound up grounded.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “I was older.” He shrugged. “Supposedly, I knew better.”

  “Hi.” Bonnie knocked at the opened door before entering. “I come bearing clothes. Sorry to say, all I have for you is a robe and a pair of wool socks. I didn’t bring a second pair of pajamas.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. I really appreciate this.”

  Caro took the berry-colored terry-cloth robe from Bonnie’s hands. It was soft and looked warm, as did the gray socks. That was all that mattered.

  “Aren’t you going to light the fireplace, Jake?” Bonnie asked.

  Caro could have hugged her.

  “I guess I could,” he said slowly.

  “It would help take the chill off,” Bonnie said, sending Caro a grin.

  “The inn’s furnace needs to be replaced. It’s on my to-do list.” He sighed then. “Along with a lot of other things.”

  “Dean’s told me stories about this place. He said it was something else when you were kids. He remembers the two of you playing hide-and-seek in the common rooms and sliding down the banister.”

  Jake grunted. “The banister couldn’t take Riley’s weight now without splintering into pieces.”

  “He’s getting big.” Unless Caro missed her guess, Bonnie was purposely misunderstanding his meaning. “Doreen says he’s the spitting image of Dean at that age. He’s all McCabe. Same with Jillian.”

  A muscle ticked in Jake’s jaw and something akin to pain flashed in his eyes.

  The silence stretched. Before it could become too awkward, though, Bonnie dusted her hands together.

  “Well, just to let you know, Mom’s reheating the pot of five-alarm chili she made earlier. She told me to tell you it would be ready whenever you and Caro are hungry.”