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“You really don’t have to do that.”
Frank’s brows rose comically. “After everything you just heard during
supper, do you really think that Iris would let me get any peace if I didn’t see you two newlyweds safely into town myself?”
Dean laughed at the other man’s dry sense of humor that held so much truth. “No, I suppose not. Thank you. You both have been very kind and hospitable considering you weren’t exactly expecting company.”
“I should be thanking you.” Frank leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile making an appearance. “I think you made Iris’s evening, and I’ll reap the benefits.” He followed that up with a sly wink.
The four of them spent the next half hour enjoying warmed apple cobbler with French vanilla ice cream and light, friendly conversation. Too soon it was time to leave, and Iris insisted on sending them off with a care package of leftovers should Dean get hungry later that night, which Jo assured the other woman was a definite possibility. After a round of warm hugs from Iris, she pressed a piece of paper into Dean’s hand with their phone number and extended an invitation to stop by anytime.
With one last wave, Dean climbed into Frank’s truck next to Jo, his wife, and wondered if he was the only one feeling an indescribable tug of longing after their visit with Iris and Frank, the only one coveting the special relationship the older couple shared.
He sighed. Considering Jo’s practical, independent views when it came to men and relationships, probably so.
CHAPTER TEN
They dropped the Suburban off at a service station in Medford to be repaired first thing the following morning. By the time they’d checked into a motel one block over, another thunderstorm had moved in. Leaving the registration office, Jo and Dean hightailed it to their assigned room just as another downpour hit, dampening their hair and clothes all over again.
Laughing at their bad luck, Jo closed the heavy metal door, locked the bolt, and put Dean’s wrapped package of food on the small table in the corner for him to feast on later. He dropped their bags at the far end of the king-sized bed and turned to her with the same private grin he’d been wearing since leaving Iris and Frank’s place.
They were alone, spending yet another night together, and her belly fluttered with renewed awareness. “What are you smiling at, husband?” she teased as she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans. She finally had a signal again and three voice mail messages from Cole waiting for her. She needed to call her brother to give him an update on her whereabouts and Dean’s innocence, and she wasn’t looking forward to their conversation and Cole’s skepticism.
Dean’s shoulders rolled in a lazy shrug. “I just keep thinking about Iris and her matrimonial lecture.”
“Her advice seems to have worked well for her and Frank for the past forty-three years. You don’t see relationships like theirs very often,” she said, remembering too well her own mother and father’s inability to compromise and work through their problems. Setting her phone on the dresser until she had a few moments alone, she tipped her head curiously at Dean. “Were your parents like Frank and Iris before your dad died?”
He sat on the edge of the mattress, clearly hesitating before answering. “Unfortunately, no. My parents remained married up to the day my father died, but for as long as I can remember, their relationship was strained.”
Intrigued, she leaned against the dresser and propped her hands on either side of her hips. “Do you know why things were strained?”
He untied his shoelaces and tugged off a shoe, a damp sock, then worked on the other pair. “Mainly because Colter Traffic Control was my father’s mistress. He spent just about every waking hour at the business, leaving me and my mother alone for the most part. In a lot of ways, he was like a stranger to us. Then again, I can’t ever remember my mother insisting that my father spend more time with us. She just accepted things for what they were, though there was no doubt she resented how much time he devoted to the business.” He combed his fingers through his thick, dark hair, dragging the unruly strands away from his face. “Hell, even as a kid I resented my father being a workaholic and not showing up at my softball games, or missing an important event or holiday, and not getting home until after midnight most weekdays.”
She listened to his story and applied it to her own parents’ rocky marriage. Different circumstances, but the end result had been a couple who’d drifted far, far apart, just as Dean’s parents had. “Don’t you think your mother and father were equally at fault for their relationship deteriorating?”
“Oh, most definitely. My mother should have insisted on more quality time, and my father should have been more aware of his family’s needs. But he was so caught up in the fear of being poor like his own father had left his family when he’d split on them that he couldn’t see past the driving need to work, no matter the cost to me and my mother.” His gaze met hers, filled with emotions she couldn’t fully decipher. “And would you believe that my biggest fear is that I’m going to end up just like my father. Sounds like a vicious cycle, doesn’t it?”
From what she’d learned about his dad, and from what she’d seen firsthand with Dean, she couldn’t envision this sensitive, ethical man in front of her forsaking a wife and family—for any reason. “I can’t see that happening, not when you’re taking steps to make sure your life ends up differently than your father’s.”
“It did happen, Jo.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, which did nothing to wipe away the regret etching his features. “I led a relatively carefree life before taking over the company. I went out with friends, had a good time, and was even a bit of a rebel. I might have been sucked into the business out of pressure and guilt, but I lost a fiancée because I wasn’t able to make room for a relationship along with the demands of the company.”
Her chest expanded with startled shock. He’d been engaged. Oh, wow. The news hit her in her midsection and made her experience a twisting bit of jealousy toward the woman who had once been this man’s significant other. The sensation threw her off-kilter because it was such an unfamiliar emotion when it came to men. And she had no business experiencing it with Dean, who was only in her life temporarily.
“Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for you to settle down and get married,” she said, more reasonably than she felt.
“Maybe not, but looking back, no matter how I sum things up, I was more like my father than I cared to admit.” He exhaled hard, as if trying to release some of the self-condemnation bogging him down. “I sacrificed a woman I cared a great deal about for a business that consumed me as much as it had my father. I’ve spent the past three years solely focused on work, to the exclusion of all else. I want part of my old life back, and now I’m determined to make changes that suit me.”
Her fingers curled tight over the edge of the dresser. “You deserve that.”
“We all deserve to be true to ourselves.” He stared her straight in the eyes, connecting with her in a way that pulled at deeply buried emotions. “Don’t you think so, Jo?”
She swallowed the tight knot that suddenly formed in her throat, feeling as though his question was dealing with the two of them directly. “Yes, I believe everyone deserves that chance.”
But other than working on her abduction cases, she didn’t know what she wanted out of life, and was ultimately afraid of taking risks that meant openly putting her emotions on the line and possibly losing an integral part of her soul in the process, as she had with her partner, Brian. He’d been the only man who’d believed in equality amongst colleagues, and never once coddled her out in the field. He’d had faith in her abilities as a female cop, had become one of her most trusted friends, and had given Jo the confidence to believe in herself…until the night her courage had been put to the test and Brian had paid with his life.
Her chest expanded with the dull, familiar ache of pain and loss. The kind of emotional sacrifice she never wanted to experience again. And knowing that, could she ever be true to herself as Dean was asking? It was a tough question considering she no longer trusted her feelings on an intimate or personal level. She found it easier, safer, to maintain her carefully controlled existence and not let anyone close enough to see her own doubts, the guilt she carried, and the vulnerability she hid behind a durable and resistant facade.
A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance as a long silence descended between them. Finally, when it was obvious that there was nothing left to say, Dean stood and peeled off his wet T-shirt, then went to work on the button and zipper of his jeans.
