Of course, there were reminders everywhere. For one thing, her son looked exactly like his daddy and his granddaddy, but she’d gotten better and better at keeping the two separate in her head. Little Mick was her life now. Connor was her past. She just needed to keep reminding herself of that. She assured herself she was getting better at it every day.
Unfortunately, though, there was more she couldn’t control. Connor’s family tended to pop up everywhere she turned. It was both a blessing and a curse.
Still, with every day that passed, she felt herself growing stronger, her initially uncertain resolve deepening into real conviction that she was on the right path with her life. Everything was falling into place just as she’d hoped.
And yet, all it took to change her perspective was one quick, unexpected glimpse of Connor in the doorway of her shop, holding their exhausted son in his arms. Her resolve immediately turned to mush, and her traitorous heart skipped several beats.
Why did the man have to look so darn good, even with his thick hair mussed and his rumpled clothes apparently plucked from the back of his closet, most likely left over from high school? It was one thing for him to turn her head when he was clean-shaven and wearing Armani. It was quite another to have her heart catch when he’d taken zero care with his appearance. It was just one more reminder that it was the man and his charm, not anything else, that had captivated her.
She tried to hide her reaction by turning quickly to one of the students in her newly organized quilting class to answer a question. Bree’s sister-in-law, Connie, and Abby’s sister-in-law, Laila, had been two of the first to sign up for the class, and Heather sensed they were going to become friends well beyond the fact that they were part of the same huge extended O’Brien family. They’d lingered after class with a barrage of questions.
Connie seemed to sense Heather’s sudden distraction, turned and caught sight of Connor in the doorway.
“Well, well, look who’s here,” she taunted, then started laughing as Connor actually came inside. “Looks as if somebody got more Easter egg dye on himself than on the eggs.”
Heather followed the direction of her gaze and noted that Connor’s T-shirt did indeed look as if it had been tiedyed by an amateur…or a pair of tiny hands. There was a streak of bright blue dye on his cheek, too. His hair, normally carefully groomed, stood up in spikes with the occasional wayward curl. Once more she noted that he looked charmingly rumpled and devastatingly sexy.
“Happy Easter, Connor,” Laila said, then grinned. “I wish somebody would tuck a man like you in my Easter basket tomorrow morning.”
Connie nudged her in the ribs. “Watch it! He’s taken.” She cast a warning look in Heather’s direction.
“Actually, he’s not,” Heather said mildly, taking her son from his arms.
“Hey, I never said I wanted Connor,” Laila protested. “I said I wanted a man like him.” A grin spread. “But minus the flaws.”
Heather noted that Connor’s cheeks were flushed, even though he’d obviously known both women for most of his life, was indirectly related to them, and had to be used to their teasing.
“Hey, let’s not be passing me around like some old football, ladies,” he grumbled. “I have feelings. Let’s talk about your love lives for a minute.”
“Sadly, I have none,” Laila said, then brightened. “Maybe you could bring home a couple of your lawyer friends one of these days. We need some hot new blood in this town, right, Connie?”
“That would definitely work for me,” Connie confirmed.
Connor’s gaze landed on Heather. “And you?”
“I know your colleagues,” she said, holding his gaze. “I’m not interested.” She turned to Laila and Connie. “Boring workaholics.”
“Ah, been there, done that,” Laila said with regret. “Well, I’d better take off. I promised Abby and Trace I’d watch the girls tonight so they can have an evening to themselves.”
“And I have to get home before Jenny goes out on her date,” Connie said. “Even though her curfew hasn’t changed in two years, if I don’t repeat it ten times before she leaves the house, she’ll claim she didn’t remember. Then we get to fight over whether she should be grounded for being late.”
“See you next Saturday,” Heather called after them, watching ruefully as they left her alone with Connor.
“Watch it with those two,” Connor told her, a grin tugging at his lips. “They’ll fill your head with all of my youthful misdeeds.”
“I pretty much know everything I need to know about you,” Heather replied. “I doubt they could say anything to sway me for or against.” She studied him curiously. “Did you ever date either one of them?”
His gaze locked with hers. “Would it bother you if I had?” he asked, almost sounding hopeful.
“No, I’m just wondering. They’re both beautiful, intelligent women.”
“They are,” he agreed. “But Connie’s a few years older, and by the time I was dating, she was already pretty serious about the man she eventually married.”
“They’re divorced now,” Heather reminded him.
“A single mother with a teenage daughter’s not going to be interested in me,” he said candidly. “Besides, Jake would beat the living daylights out of me if I led his sister on. Ditto with Trace. He’s very protective of Laila. Both of my brothers-in-law know how I feel about marriage. They’d definitely object to me getting involved with either of their sisters.”
“You know what I don’t understand,” she said, carrying the now-sleeping Mick into the back room and settling him into his portable playpen, “How can you spend time with Jake and Bree, Trace and Abby, Kevin and Shanna and even your parents, and not see how happy they are?”
“I can’t
