Fatherhood 101
Fatherhood 101
Mae Nunn
Could he really be Professor Perfect? A handsome professor in a flannel shirt and a Texas Rangers cap? Returning to university just became less intimidating–and more intriguing–than Sarah Eason expected. As a widow in her thirties and single mom of three, Sarah's hardly a typical coed. Except Professor Cullen Temple is starting to make her feel like one. He's brilliant, attentive, incredibly sweet…and he's winning over her girls. Yet there's something troubled in those gray eyes. Something that makes her wonder if he might be too good to be true.Plus a bonus short story by USA TODAY bestselling author Ingrid Weaver
Could he really be Professor Perfect?
A handsome professor in a flannel shirt and a Texas Rangers cap? Returning to university just became less intimidating—and more intriguing—than Sarah Eason expected. As a widow in her thirties and single mom of three, Sarah’s hardly a typical coed. Except Professor Cullen Temple is starting to make her feel like one. He’s brilliant, attentive, incredibly sweet…and he’s winning over her girls. Yet there’s something troubled in those gray eyes. Something that makes her wonder if he might be too good to be true.
Plus a bonus short story by USA TODAY bestselling author Ingrid Weaver
“Sounds like your date’s here.”
“Cut it out,” Cullen said, dismissing his brother’s insinuation. “The lady needed a friend and I happened to be in the right place at the right moment.”
“Yeah, well just watch your step or you’ll have a ready-made family on your hands.”
A ready-made family…
A knock on the door resounded in the entry hall. Rocket began to bark in earnest and giggly girls squealed in response on the front porch. The tranquility of his home was about to be shattered, for the day at least, and he had no one to blame but himself.
A ready-made family?
Perish the thought!
Dear Reader (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9),
Welcome back to East Texas and life with the Temple Brothers, whose stories are unfolding Deep in the Heart. In Fatherhood 101 you’re going to fall for Cullen Temple, named for Texas oilman and philanthropist Roy Cullen. Cullen’s life seems to be an open book, but in truth it’s more like a confidential file. When an abandoned pup, a young widow and three little girls invade his quiet life, Cullen must decide which is his greater fear: risking the best thing that’s ever happened to him or risking his grip on reality. In true Lone Star State fashion, Cullen will sweep you off your high heel boots and along with him on his search for happiness.
Before the year is out, you’re also going to get to know Joiner Temple through the eyes of my new writing partner, Gwen Ford Faulkenberry. Gwen is a high school coach’s wife, English teacher and a busy mother of four who knows firsthand the joys and dramas of a big family. Gwen will take Joiner on a wild ride as the polo-playing Temple brother learns how to be a real cowboy.
Until we meet again, let your light shine!
Mae Nunn
Contents
Fatherhood 101 (#ulink_27d31655-8fbe-5f68-87fa-a115c96cfa1b)
Dear Reader (#u2b5cef4c-575f-551a-b094-74e95b99bc29)
Chapter One (#u7d07e276-567d-523f-a159-8ddf00cc181c)
Chapter Two (#u95c5c46b-29b7-551a-8853-97f03f70df5f)
Chapter Three (#ua190f0e2-e7ec-5db7-9ec3-dae3cb4b3995)
Chapter Four (#u30867a7b-7f60-50db-b023-487a74d1f257)
Chapter Five (#u0ef8d0e5-4116-5200-8eec-6362a44dffca)
Chapter Six (#u0255a965-9ec7-5c00-adea-096404b235bd)
Chapter Seven (#ubf680fa0-45bd-51df-9757-5e2fe1280a76)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Finders Keepers (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Fatherhood 101
Mae Nunn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Fatherhood 101 (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
Mae Nunn
MAE NUNN
grew up in Houston and graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in communications. When she fell for a transplanted Englishman living in Atlanta, she moved to Georgia and made an effort to behave like a Southern belle. But when she found that her husband was quite agreeable to life as a born-again Texan, Mae happily returned to her cowgirl roots and cowboy boots! In 2008 Mae retired from thirty years of corporate life to focus on her career as a full-time author.
“All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” —Abraham Lincoln
This book is dedicated to you, Mama. You were my spiritual guide, my champion, my conscience and my example of a Proverbs 31 woman. I miss you so very much.
Wilma Ruth Holliday
February 6, 1929—September 18, 2003
CHAPTER ONE (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
“CULLEN, IT’S TIME you stopped being the Texas version of Peter Pan and accepted some grown-up responsibility,” Dr. Blair Mastal insisted.
“I take umbrage with that statement,” Cullen Temple responded with an upward tilt of his chin that probably needed a shave, as usual.
Blair was a popular professor who’d been Cullen’s mentor and friend throughout his college career. And after several degrees in history, college truly had become Cullen’s career.
Blair was making a familiar point and it just happened to be shared by Cullen’s three brothers and everybody else who felt compelled to express an opinion on his obsession with higher education.
“Well, you can take umbrage all you want to as long as you take over my classes for the summer term.”
“I’m not a teacher,” Cullen protested. The very thought of being the one accountable for whether or not the students learned all the material in the syllabus caused gooseflesh to prickle the skin beneath his favorite flannel shirt. “I can’t replace you in the classroom, Blair.”
“That’s hogwash. You’ve stood in for me a hundred times over the past dozen or so years.”
“Standing in for a few days and stepping in for you forever are completely different. Besides, I don’t have a teaching degree―I’m not qualified.”
“The university wants a subject matter expert, not an educator. In that respect you are overqualified, but they’ll turn a blind eye if you’ll accept the contract, even on a trial basis.”
“My life is sublime just the way it is, thank you very much. Why would I complicate perfection?”
“How about the fact that you’re stuck in a rut about as low as a snake’s belly in a wagon wheel track? This building has been your home away from home for a dozen years. You’ve run out of degrees to earn. Consider shaking things up a bit.”
“I happen to enjoy being a student of history.”
“I’m not suggesting that you stop learning, but how about studying somebody alive for a change?”
“No way.” Cullen shook his head. “Folks who’ve been dead for hundreds of years are dependable, predictable. They’re not likely to up and leave you just when you start appreciating their company.”
“They’re also not going to keep you warm at night, or watch the Rangers game with you.”
Blair swatted the bill of Cullen’s baseball cap and it flopped down over his eyes. He ducked the fake punch his mentor always threatened to land on his jaw and adjusted his cap.
“Seriously, my friend,” Blair continued. “For a man of your advanced years you’re sorta one-dimensional.”
“Hey, I’m only thirty-four years old. I have my whole life ahead of me,” Cullen insisted.
“But when your daddy was thirty-four, his life was already half-over. If he were still alive I have a hunch he’d suggest that you give fewer hours to the people in our textbooks and more to the living, breathing folks right here on this campus.”
Much as the idea of teaching scared the heck out of Cullen, Blair’s guidance had always been sound. “I’ll sleep on it,” Cullen agreed finally.
“With your life experience, you’d be a good fit over in Longview Hall. You could help some people, give back to the community.”
“I see where this is headed. You’re pimping for the psychology department to assuage your guilt over taking away their senior counselor.”
“There’s some truth in that, but my wife wants the change of scenery as much as I do.”
“What’s really behind this sudden desire you have to move to Europe? Have you stopped paying your taxes? Are you leading a double life? How come you have to hightail it out of town with hardly any notice?”
“I’ve had an offer to be an exchange-student liaison at our embassy in Rome, and it’s too perfect to resist. Ailean and I haven’t ever lived outside of Texas.”
“And most Texans are quite happy to keep it that way.”
“For my first sixty years on this earth, I shared that opinion. But the two of us have been talking for the past few years about an extended stay in Europe. My health scare last winter made us realize if we’re going to make it happen, it has to be now. Life is short and fragile. We’ve been offered a gift horse, and we’re not going to look it in the mouth. Ambassador Phillips wants us there in three weeks and we don’t plan to disappoint him.”
Cullen was practical by nature. What Blair said made sense, and as one who’d been afforded the ability to pursue his interests, Cullen wouldn’t begrudge his friend the right to do the same.
“Okay, I can accept that you and Ailean are pulling up stakes, but that doesn’t make me the right choice for your position here at the university.”
The respected history teacher lifted a box and shoved it into his reluctant protégé’s arms.
“These are my lecture notes for the class that starts next week. Take them home and go over them tonight. I believe the temptation to reorganize my thoughts will have you so excited, you won’t be able to sleep. But if I’m wrong, drop them off tomorrow and I’ll go back to the drawing board for another recommendation.”
“Is there any chance at all that you’ll change your mind about leaving?” Cullen was hopeful. Mastal was not only Cullen’s mentor, he’d become a stand-in for the father Cullen had lost in his teens.
“None, whatsoever. My better half has already listed our house with a Realtor and hired an estate sale coordinator.”
“Estate sale? You’re not dying, you’re taking a sabbatical. You’ll be home in a few months.”
“We don’t plan to return to Kilgore, Cullen.”
“Ever?”
“For a visit, sure. But not permanently. Our boys are in Denver and Phoenix. We’re going to enjoy Italy for as long as it lasts and then we’ll figure out where to go next. If we don’t make a new home in one of the cities where our kids live, then we’re going to check out Barcelona or Prague.”
Cullen nodded and moved toward the door. There was no point in arguing against what he’d have done himself if the situation was reversed.
“Then you’ll take a gander at my notes and consider teaching the class?”
“I’d rather go to Italy with you, but it seems Ailean has spoken for that position so I’ll consider accepting this one.”
Blair placed a warm hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “This is tailor-made for you, just as the Italy job is for me. Have faith in yourself.”
With the box of notes balanced in one hand, the brass knob clutched in the other, Cullen swung the office door wide and paused before crossing the threshold.
“Is there anything else?” Dr. Mastal asked.
“Yes, and it’s important. I should speak up before I lose my nerve.”
“What is it, son?” The older man’s voice was quiet, patient.
“Can I call dibs on those bookcases in your den, the ones with the glass doors?”
“I’ll tell Ailean they’ve been spoken for.” He chuckled. “But I warn you they come with all her psychology textbooks.”
“And unless you’re donating it to the university library, can I have your resource collection, too?”
“Don’t press your luck.”
Blair pushed Cullen through the door and closed it on his heels, and Cullen was pretty sure he heard his friend throw the lock.
* * *
SARAH EASON WAS a goose in a new world. The wide halls of the university administration building had seemed exciting when she was fresh out of high school, but all these years later the arched ceilings and granite floors felt foreign and forbidding.
“I can do this,” she muttered to herself as she swept the red hair she’d inherited from her daddy out of her eyes. “I’m a thirty-nine-year-old woman, for crying out loud. I’ve survived the birth of three daughters and the death of my husband. I won’t be intimidated by an old woman who got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Besides, there was little reason to believe the grouch who’d answered the phone in the office of admissions that morning would still be on duty all these hours later. But Sarah stiffened her spine in case there was a battle to be waged. She’d promised herself she’d register for classes today, and come hell or high water, by golly she would do it!
That is, if she could find the office.
Where on earth were they hiding room 104B? She glanced down at the directions she’d scribbled that morning while packing sandwiches and chips for the girls and a Lean Cuisine meal for herself. Maybe she’d written it down wrong. Maybe the grouch had intentionally given her bad information. Or maybe God had sent the old biddy as a sign that going back to school wasn’t such a hot idea.
“Can I help you?” a voice rumbled above her head.
Sarah raised her eyes and tipped her head up to see who’d made the kind offer. Familiar gray eyes waited for her response.
“Have we met?” she asked, unable to recall where she’d seen the lazy grin that was set in a handsome face dusted with a couple days of stubble. Dark curls poked out from beneath the Texas Rangers baseball cap that was molded to his head.
“Probably not, but I have a little brother you might know if you watch those cookin’ competitions on TV.”
She snapped her fingers and pointed in understanding. He mirrored her action.
“The Cowboy Chef,” they said in unison.
“He’s your brother?” Sarah enjoyed watching the Food Network with her girls; there was zero chance the competing chefs would take their clothes off or use filthy language on camera, so it was something they could do together.
“Hunt’s my twin actually.” The guy shifted the bulky box he was holding to one hand and extended the other. “Cullen Temple.” He offered his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Cullen Temple. I’m Sarah Eason.” She slipped her palm into his grip. It was warm and smooth so she felt certain he didn’t cut down trees for a living, despite the plaid lumberjack shirt he sported on an afternoon in May.
“Did I hear an offer of help?” she reminded him.
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“I called to get directions to the office of admissions this morning and I believe a crabby old lady gave me the wrong room number.”
Cullen leaned his face toward the ceiling and laughed out loud, displaying white, even teeth that had probably been wrangled into braces during his teen years. After a moment of enjoying her accusation he shook his head, his eyes filled with amused compassion for her experience.
“Sounds as if you’ve had your first encounter with Miss Nancy Norment, lovingly known as the University Torment. Her job for more than fifty years has been to scare off fainthearted freshmen before they waste their parents’ tuition money.”
“Well, she deserves high marks for her efforts. If I wasn’t so determined to pick up registration forms today, I might have climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over my head after I spoke with her.”
“Oh, Miss Norment means well and she’s probably saved families millions over the course of her career. You’ll know her when you run across her.”
“Does she pull her hair into a bun and wear Granny Clampett boots?”
“In a new millennium sorta way. You’ll see,” he teased.
“If you’d be kind enough to point me in the right direction, I’ll take my chances.”
Cullen put two fingertips gently on Sarah’s shoulder and guided her toward the office that was less than three feet away.
“There’s no number on the door,” she insisted.
He pointed above the doorframe where a brass placard identified the Office of Admissions.
She closed her eyes and ducked her chin, hiding her face from the man who must believe she was an airhead.
“Another one of Miss Norment’s attempts to cull the weakest from the herd. She doesn’t bother to mention that there’s no room number, or that you have to search up high for the sign.”
“Thanks to you, her trick didn’t work today.”
He raised his wrist to check the time, and then glanced toward the door.
“It’s still early. Miss Nancy could scare off three or four more applicants before the office closes at six.”
Sarah’s eyes followed his gaze.
“You don’t think she’s still in there, do you? It’s been almost eight hours since I spoke to her.”
“She works a split shift. For years she’s had an apartment over in the village section of the campus where she also acts as a dorm adviser.”
“My goodness. She’s either very committed to the university or has no life at all.”
“A little of both. She’s as much a part of this university as the bell tower. Miss Nancy is feared and revered by one and all.”
“You have me intrigued and scared in equal parts. Maybe I should return on her day off.”
“Nonsense. There’s no time like the present.” He reached for the door, pulled it wide and swept his palm outward for her to take the lead. As she stepped across the threshold she heard him call into the office. “Miss Nancy, take care of Sarah for me, will ya? She’s a friend of mine.”
Sarah glanced behind her to see Cullen Temple smile and wave just as the door slid closed between them.
“That Temple boy has been a thorn in my side for more years than I care to count. If you’re a friend of his, then you’re either a double dose of trouble or a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”
Facing the interior of the office and the source of the comment, Sarah came eyeball to eyeball with a spiky-haired senior citizen in a scrubs top, camo pants and Chuck Taylor All Stars.
“You must be Miss Nancy Norment,” Sarah said in her most charming tone.
“And you must be somebody’s mama,” the University Torment snapped. “‘Cause you’re certainly no spring chicken.”
Knowing her fortieth birthday was just around the corner, Sarah couldn’t disagree. Maybe she should have gone back to bed, after all.
CHAPTER TWO (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
THE AUBURN-HAIRED beauty was sitting alone in the student center with her back to the wall and her face just a few inches above the paperwork spread across the table. Over the years Cullen had come to recognize that posture as the sign of someone who expected they wouldn’t fit in, who believed they didn’t belong.
He wondered why on earth the lovely woman he’d met earlier in the administration building might be insecure. But then sending a child off to college could be a very unsettling period of life. Though they’d only spoken for a few minutes, Cullen had learned that her name was Sarah and she had daughters.
She’d seemed too bright to fall into the helicopter-parent trap, always hovering overhead and ready to swoop down and save the day. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time a smart adult did all the paperwork to ensure their completely capable kid had no excuse for not showing up on the first day of class.
As Cullen passed through the beverage line he was jostled intentionally by several upper-classmen who smiled and greeted him. Those with unfamiliar faces ignored Cullen, leaving him to presume they were freshmen.
The kids who attended the summer semester were made up of two groups: those who were getting ahead and those who were catching up. As he moved toward the woman alone at her table he wondered whether her daughter would be at the top or the bottom of the freshman class.
“Forgive me for guessing instead of asking if you take your coffee black, but you seem more of a ‘decaf with cream and sugar’ lady to me,” Cullen explained as he placed two mugs of coffee on the table. The blue eyes that met his opened wide with surprise and then squinted in good-humored gratitude.
“Make that sugar substitute and you’re right on the money.” She swept an area clear of paperwork to give him room to share the table.
Cullen dumped the contents of the small sack he’d also been carrying into the empty spot. Servings of flavored creamer and packets of sweetener rolled and fluttered about.
“Take your pick. Yellow, pink or blue.”
“You’re not just a pretty face, no matter what Miss Norment says about you,” Sarah teased as she reached for a single serving container of French vanilla creamer.
“Miss Nancy calls me a number of things but I’d lay odds that pretty face isn’t on the list.”
“She did mutter something about you being the dullest knife in the butcher block.”
“That sounds about right.” He tore open three packets of brown sugar and dumped the crystals into his mug. “She’s never taken much of a shine to me, even though I’m in there several times a week to see the dean.”
“You get called in to see the dean that frequently, huh?”
“Occasionally he calls me, but just as often it’s the other way around. We play racquetball, then grab some lunch.”
“That’s a novel way to keep an eye on your child’s progress at school.” She bobbed her head as if she approved.
“My child?”
“Sorry, I meant your son or daughter. I forget that young people want to be considered adults, not children. My Carrie certainly does.”
“I don’t have any children.” He held up his hand to show her that there was no wedding ring on his finger, not that the age-old symbol of commitment meant much to some people these days. “Not even married.”
Cullen noted that her ring finger was bare but she fiddled with a gold band on her right thumb.
“So you hang around here because...” She waited for him to finish. Surely the lady didn’t believe he was trolling for dates among the students?
“I hang around here because I’m getting an education.” She continued to stare so he elaborated. “Actually, I’ve gotten several educations since I first enrolled right out of high school. I don’t have plans to leave anytime soon, even though Miss Nancy has tried to kick me out into the real world on more occasions than you can shake a stick at. My brothers call me a professional student, and at this point it’s useless for me to deny it.”
“So you’re a student and not a parent? That’s cool,” she said. Her smile and the tilt of her head said she was interested in his story.
“Finally!” He exaggerated the word. “Somebody who appreciates the idea that higher education isn’t just what kids do while they wait for the best job or the right mate to come along.”
“I’d enjoy hearing more, but I’ve got to finish completing these forms and get over to our apartment before the girls get home.”
“Do you need any help? I know my way around a class registration fairly well by now. What is your daughter interested in studying? The curriculum is a bit limited during the summer sessions.”
Sarah’s smile was back. She relaxed against the folding chair and dropped her pencil on the form.
“I suppose I had that coming.”
“What?” Cullen was confused.
“My oldest daughter is only thirteen and the primary subject that interests her is the ever threatening world of zombies and vampires.”
Embarrassment warmed Cullen’s neck. Assuming a woman was old enough to have a kid in college was up there with assuming a lady’s rounded figure meant she was pregnant.
“I’m sorry.” He struggled to apologize. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you were old. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being old, you’re just not that old.”
She held a palm outward to stop the flow of words.
“I’m not insulted. Really, I’m not. I made the same assumption about you. What do you say we call it even?”
“It’s a deal.” Cullen extended his hand and he was very grateful when she accepted his shake and his apology.
* * *
SARAH CAUGHT THE gleam in Cullen’s eye and the spark in his touch. For the first time in the three years since Joe’s death, physical contact with a man had made her insides quiver. She’d figured that magical sensation was gone forever.
“So, whose application are you filling out, if I may be bold enough to ask?” He tucked his chin to his chest in a gun-shy but teasing posture.
It’s for me,” Sarah answered softly, still afraid to admit it out loud.
“Beg pardon?”
“Me!” she insisted more boldly. “The application is for me.”
He stared at her with eyes the color of wet slate. The man was a ringer for that famous British soccer player who’d moved with his Spice Girl wife from London to Beverly Hills. Sarah’s seven-year-old could probably recite their names, but there was zero allowance for pop culture in a single mother’s life. Bearing the load alone was heavy, but not more than she could manage.
During the last moments of her husband’s battle with leukemia, she’d held Joe in her arms and encouraged him to let go of this life, promising him that their girls would be okay. And that was mostly true. Today Carrie, Meg and Hope had what they needed, they just didn’t have who they needed. And now Sarah was going to spend more hours away from them to finish the degree that had once meant so much to her. Some people would say her plan was selfish, but her employer had offered to pay the tuition—how could a widow turn that down?
“I’m going to complete my undergraduate.”
“That’s wonderful,” Cullen said encouragingly.
“Really? You don’t think I’m a bit...mature?”
He held his arms out in a “look at me” posture.
“Sarah, now that we’ve taken turns accusing each other of being over the hill, my guess is we’re probably about the same age. Ninety percent of the people on this campus expect that I’m a teacher because I’ve been studying here for so long. But trust me when I say I’m not the only individual over thirty—or even forty—who’s sitting on the observation side of the lectern. We actually have a sophomore in her seventies named Ruthie George. After Ruthie’s husband passed away, she decided to get her master’s.”
“Good for her,” Sarah said, voicing her approval over the older woman’s decision to keep moving forward with her life.
But Ruthie had probably shared many decades with her husband, while Sarah had been cheated of so many precious years. Life had short-changed her young family and her heart would forever bear a tender bruise from the loss.
Somehow life went on, the girls outgrew their shoes and Sarah outgrew her fears. She’d put one foot in front of the other and pressed ahead for the sake of her daughters. And if she wanted to advance any further with the law firm and get her paralegal licensing, she had to complete her education.
“I think I’d enjoy meeting Ruthie. She sounds like a role model I could use in my circle of friends right now.”
Sarah was grateful for her mother’s unfailing help with the girls, but Margaret Callaghan had never had professional ambitions, and she’d never worked outside their family home.
“Ruthie says that it’s her time to fly,” Cullen explained. “For fifty years she put her family before her education and now that she’s alone again, she’s going to do whatever it takes to fulfill the dream she put on hold the moment her first child was born.”
“Your friend and I have a lot in common, in spite of our thirty-year-age difference.”
“You’ve been a stay-at-home mom, too?”
“Only when the girls were little. As soon as my youngest was out of diapers I went to work with a law firm. But now, if I want to advance any further I have to get my paralegal certification. I can’t do that without an undergraduate degree, and since they’re willing to pay for it, here I am.”
There was a ruckus a few tables away as young people who were playing cards broke into laughter. Sarah supposed there had been a day when she’d been so carefree but it had been so long ago it was nothing more than a distant memory. Their smiling faces reminded her of her daughters and she glanced at the wall clock above the exit door.
“Let me get out of here so you can finish.” Cullen gathered up the bits of trash from their coffee and swept the table clean with a napkin. “I’m sorry I interrupted your efforts,” he apologized.
“I don’t mean to run you off, but I have to get this to your Miss Nancy before the office closes.”
“By next week she’ll be your Miss Nancy, too.”
“Oh, gosh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“There are probably a lot of things you haven’t thought of yet. When you want a class recommendation or even a cup of coffee with your new friend, Cullen Temple, just give me a holler.”
“Do I holler at any particular corner of the campus?”
“I can generally be found in the history department, Heath-Harwick Hall. But if you don’t spot me over there just leave a message with Miss Nancy.”
“And she’ll see that you get it?”
“Probably not, but it’s worth a try.”
Cullen tilted his handsome head in a gesture of respect, took his coffee mug and made his way toward the exit, stopping every few tables to speak to someone he knew. Sarah wouldn’t be hanging out in the student center often enough to have acquaintances on campus like Cullen did. But she had made one new friend—though if she didn’t finish the enrollment form soon she wouldn’t even get another chance to speak to him.
“My new friend, Cullen Temple,” she said only loud enough so that she could hear the words. “I like the way that sounds.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
CULLEN FIGURED A week of preparation for his first class was enough.
He’d figured wrong.
Standing before the small group in Blair’s lecture hall on Monday afternoon, he felt like a poor substitute for the professor the students had expected to hear. After he began to rush through the talking points, only one person bothered to make eye contact, and having that person’s blue eyes fixed on Cullen’s every move only made things more nerve-racking.
Twenty minutes short of the ninety-minute class he closed Blair’s carefully prepared notes and dismissed the group. He turned about-face as they hurried toward the exit as if their stand-in instructor might call them back for another hour of boredom on European civilization.
“The sign on the lecture hall door claims you’re Dr. Cullen Temple but you didn’t sound anything like the smooth talker I had coffee with last week.”
Cullen looked around to find Sarah Eason standing in front of him. She’d tried to be helpful by signaling him a couple of times during his lecture to slow his delivery down, without success.
“Was that awful, or what?” he asked, already well aware of the answer.
“I wouldn’t say awful. Awful is a dried-up, day-old hot dog. That was more of a cold, greasy onion ring. If you just warm it up there may still be potential.”
“I’m sorry you witnessed that debacle.” He slumped against the white board on the wall behind him. “I shouldn’t have agreed to take over this class. It’s one thing to be a guest lecturer on a subject of my own choosing and quite another to pick up where a tenured professor has left off.”
“So Dr. Mastal really was supposed to be teaching this class, as it says on the syllabus? I thought maybe I’d wandered into the wrong lecture hall, but when I saw it was you I decided to hang around. I’m only auditing this semester so it’s not as if anybody was expecting me.”
“I hope my performance tonight doesn’t stop you from sitting in on the class again. I’m really gonna have to cram so I can redeem myself on Wednesday. Otherwise, your husband’s going to complain that your time away from the family is being wasted.”
She took a seat in the front row, settled her notebook and purse on the adjacent chair and crossed one bare leg over the other beneath the full skirt of her faded yellow sundress.
“Come, sit,” she encouraged, probably in the same patient voice she used with her children.
He did as instructed, sitting two seats away with her things in between them.
“I’m a widow.” Her voice was soft but matter-of-fact.
Before he could stammer out condolences she reached across the vacant seat and placed a hand on his arm.
“Don’t say anything. It’s been three years and the girls and I are adjusting to our new normal.”
“How...” Cullen wanted to ask, not at all sure he should.
“Joe was diagnosed with leukemia right after we learned I was pregnant with our third daughter, Hope. He’d suspected something was terribly wrong for months but kept it to himself because he didn’t want to worry me. We were told from the start it was terminal but we’d have a few years. I don’t pretend it wasn’t devastating to our lives or that everybody’s fine now. We get through it one day at a time and treasure every blessing.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine losing a spouse. When I was in high school, both of my parents were killed in a private plane crash, so I understand a little of what your daughters are going through.”
“It’s tough for my girls. I try to meet all their emotional needs but nothing can take the place of a daddy, as you well know. And I’m sorry you had a tragic loss at such a young age.”
“Thank you.” Cullen released a sigh. He was a bonehead, making too much of one failed lecture when the woman beside him was struggling with problems that might eventually get better but would never completely go away. Something else he was well acquainted with.
After his parents’ deaths, he’d suffered terrifying anxiety attacks, and while they’d subsided years ago, the dread of their return never left him. He’d only ever told Blair and Alma, the woman who’d stepped in to care for the Temple brothers, of his fears.
Hoping to get them past these sad subjects, he said, “Do you have to rush home, or can I buy you a bite to eat? I’m suddenly starving and the grill in the student center makes great cheeseburgers. I’ll even spring for some onion rings so the evening won’t be a total loss.” He smiled to lift the mood.
“Could I get a rain check? Tonight I’m meeting my mother and the girls for pizza. It’s one of those family places where kids can stay busy with arcade games for hours. Mom gives them each a roll of quarters and then she’s free to sit and read her romance novel. That should keep everyone occupied for a while, but I should head over soon.”
“You say it’s a family place?”
“Yeah, it’s the one out on the loop, near the mall.”
“Oh, I know the one you’re taking about. They have a nice buffet. What could be better than all the pepperoni pizza you can eat?”
“Would you care to join us?”
He shook his head. He hadn’t meant to fish for an invitation. But Blair’s words about giving less attention to the people in books and more to the living had stuck in Cullen’s mind like bubble gum on hot pavement.
“Oh, I wouldn’t horn in on your family evening. Besides, how would your mother and girls react if a man you just met showed up to share the table?”
“It’s going to take them about thirty seconds to recognize your face and then they’ll be all up in your business asking questions about your famous twin.”
Cullen leaned away from the comment. “Hey, I wouldn’t exactly say Hunt’s famous, at least not for anything other than being my little brother. I will give him credit for being a great chef, though. And he still does some appearances on television when he’s not working with his fiancée over at Temple Territory.”
“Oh, that mansion in Kilgore that’s become a hotel? I hear it’s quite an historical landmark.”
“I can arrange for your daughters to get a tour of the estate if they’d be interested. Our grandfather built the place and it comes with lots of interesting stories and legends.”
“That’s a great idea for an outing this summer,” she agreed. “But please join us tonight. There’s probably a whole pepperoni pizza over there with your name on it.”
The mental picture of rising dough swimming in golden grease from cheese and sausage caused his mouth to water like Pavlov’s dog. He did an inward double take at his very predictable reaction. Maybe he was a natural for the study of human behavior, after all.
“Only if you’re sure nobody will object.”
“With five women at the table somebody is always bound to object. It just comes with the territory. So don’t take it personally, it’s a family female thing,” Sarah assured him.
A family female thing was uncharted water for Cullen. But how hard could it be to share a casual meal with three generations of women? He might even learn something from the experience if he carried some gestures of kindness to soothe the savage breast.
* * *
SARAH WASN’T NEARLY as confident as she tried to sound for Cullen’s sake. While she could trust her mother to be hospitable, the girls were another matter. Carrie was in the throes of a Goth stage and Meg was forever wrestling with some imagined worry. Hope lived in la-la land, inventing superhero memories of her daddy to replace the fragile flesh-and-blood truth.
Thank goodness Sarah had a thirty-minute head start before Cullen arrived at the pizza place. He’d said he had personal business to attend to and then he’d join them. She’d have to set the scene carefully, to say the least.
“What do you mean a friend from the university is meeting us for dinner?” Meg questioned. “Who is she and how well do you know her?”
“I was about to ask the same thing,” Sarah’s mother added.
“My friend is actually a guy and he’s teaching the European history class I’m auditing. He was going to eat dinner alone so I invited him to have pizza with us. You might even recognize him.”
“He’s not that old high school boyfriend of yours, is he? That Bobby Whatshisname?” asked her mother.
“Of course not.”
“Good. I was always suspicious of that kid.”
“Mom, Bobby got married right after we graduated, he was a torpedo man on a navy guided-missile destroyer and he has a Ph.D. in agricultural economics. I’d say he’s done pretty well for himself. You can let go of those qualms.”
“Well, I’ve read how women are hooking up with their old flames these days and I don’t want any surprises when this stranger shows up.”
“He’s nobody from my ancient past, but he does have a face you might have seen before.”
“Like on an FBI Most Wanted poster? What if he’s a bank robber or a mass murderer?” Meg chewed the tip of a plastic straw.
“Honey, this guy has spent his entire life in Kilgore, he’s well respected at the university and I’m pretty sure he’s been too busy studying and teaching to dispose of bodies.”
“So, is this the way college women behave? Will there be a different man in your life every week now?” Carrie’s snide question was inappropriate, but at least she was talking.
“No, dear,” Sarah said with restraint. At home she’d have lectured her daughter on being disrespectful, but tonight reassurance was more important than manners. “Cullen is the only person on campus who’s even spoken to me, if you don’t count the grouchy woman in the administration office.”
“Oh, Nancy Norment is still over there? So the University Torment is alive and well. She must be up into her eighties by now.”
“She might be too mean to die.”
“I’m glad to hear Miss Nancy is on the job. The town honored her years ago for her service to the community. You’d better pray she lives twenty more years so she’ll be there when your girls go to college.”
“Right now I’m praying that I can stick around for two years to finish my degree, but I’ll add Miss Nancy’s continued health to the bottom of my lengthy prayer list.”
“Don’t look now, but a suspicious man just spotted us and he’s walking this way.” Meg’s words were muffled behind her hand.
Sarah watched Cullen approach. He seemed much more relaxed than he had in the lecture hall. In one hand he clutched a bunch of flowers and with the other he gripped the handles of an oversize canvas bag stamped with a recycle emblem. When he stopped at the head of their table, Sarah stood to make introductions.
“Cullen Temple, this is my mother, Margaret Callaghan, and my daughters Carrie, Meg and Hope. Ladies, this is my instructor, Dr. Cullen Temple.”
There was silence except for a nod from her mother.
Sarah stamped her foot, a not-so-covert sign for her daughters to use their manners.
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” the girls responded politely as they’d been instructed all their lives.
“I appreciate your mama inviting me. I love a pizza buffet.”
* * *
NOT FEELING OVERLY WELCOME, Cullen decided to go straight for the peace offerings, hoping the atmosphere would warm up. He set the canvas bag on the tabletop and handed the flowers to Sarah’s mother.
“These are for you, Mrs. Callaghan. My mama taught me that you never go to a woman’s dinner table empty-handed, not the first visit, anyway.”
Next he made a production of poking around in the bag, which seemed to get the girls’ attention.
“I had to shop fast and I only have brothers so I hope I did okay,” he apologized as he withdrew a trinket for each of the sisters. For Carrie, whose hair was...purple...there was a paperback volume of Vampire Academy, the first in a popular young adult series. He presented Meg with a silver-tone bracelet that had a dangling smiley face charm inscribed Don’t Worry, Be Happy. And for Sara’s youngest, who was missing her front two teeth, there was a fluffy stuffed bear holding a velvet heart that read Faith, Hope and Love.
“I think this was meant just for you,” Cullen said as he handed over the teddy.
“What did you bring for Mommy?” Hope asked.
“The best gift of all,” he answered as he rubbed his palms together.
He reached to the bottom of the bag and then pulled out a thick, gray volume. Black letters on the spine read European Civilization. It was the very expensive textbook for his class.
“I can’t accept this, Cullen.”
He waved away her concern. “Dr. Mastal kept a stack in his office for loaners. When the semester is over you can return it and I’ll use it to bless another unsuspecting victim.”
“Hey!” Carrie had glanced up from her novel and was studying Cullen through squinted eyes, her index finger pointing a silent accusation his way.
Margaret nodded her head. “I was just about to say the same thing.”
“What?” Meg slid the bracelet over her hand and rejoined the conversation.
“You look just like the Cowboy Chef!” Carrie insisted.
“Actually, I’m the older twin, so he looks just like me.”
“You’re brothers with the cutest chef on food television? Awesome sauce!” Meg exclaimed.
“Why don’t we go fill our plates and you can hear all about it while we eat,” Margaret suggested. She took charge and herded the girls toward the buffet line.
“Thank you for everything, Cullen. You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble and expense.”
“It’s only one evening of my life and it’s the least I can do for your family. If I never meet your girls again they’ll have a personal reminder of a Temple brother—even if they forget about me and only remember the Cowboy Chef.”
He smiled, not the least bit bothered by the shadow his twin cast.
“Shall we?” Sarah suggested.
“After you.” Cullen stepped aside to let her take the lead.
He smiled as he watched the family of women load their plates, but inwardly he shuddered over what the atmosphere must be like in their home. The noise, the bickering, the demands, the drama—all the stuff he did his best to keep out of his life. Anything short of peace and quiet might tempt his old nemesis, anxiety.
What he’d said to Sarah was true. Giving up one evening was an easy gesture to make, especially for one of his students. But a steady diet of this bunch would not simply have him under the covers, it would have him under the bed!
CHAPTER FOUR (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
TWENTY STEPS OUTSIDE the pizza parlor door, Hope dug her heels into the sidewalk and pointed toward a maintenance alley beside the restaurant.
“Mama, look!” she insisted.
All heads turned at the urgency in her voice. By the entrance to the alley, a small life shivered, barely noticeable, cowering in the shadow of a Dumpster.
“It’s a puppy!” Hope squealed, and tugged harder on Sarah’s hand in an effort to get closer. “Let’s go get it!”
“Wait!” Meg cried even louder. “It could be rabid.”
“Its ears are too short to be a rabbit.”
“Rabid, not rabbit, you stupid baby,” Meg chided.
“Mona Margaret, what have I told you about name-calling?”
“That it’s ugly, inappropriate and indicates a weak vocabulary,” she said, repeating what Sarah said to her daughters at least twice a day. “But she is a stupid baby sometimes.” Meg always had to have the last word.
The whimper of the animal echoed in the alley.
“Do something!” Hope pleaded.
“Stay put and let me check things out,” Cullen instructed, handing his to-go box of pizza to Sarah.
He made his way cautiously, stopped several feet away and knelt to the dirty concrete. The shaggy thing stood, unfolding long wobbly legs. Cullen rested one hand atop his knee, palm down to allow the puppy to make the first move. Even from a distance Sarah could hear soft murmuring as Cullen appealed to the frightened pup. It slowly crept forward, sniffed cautiously, then retreated behind the safety of the Dumpster.
“Don’t leave him there!” Hope broke the quiet that had enveloped their group, startling everyone.
“Will you shush, please?” Carrie reprimanded her sister, who complied for once in her life.
Cullen crept down the alley and slipped out of sight in the direction the dog had gone. Long moments later he returned, a wad of blond fur enfolded in his arms.
“I thought his mama might be in there, too, but he was all alone,” Cullen explained, keeping his voice low as he got closer.
Sarah kept a tight grip on her youngest daughter, certain Hope’s excitement would spook the already-frightened animal. Cullen moved underneath the glare of the parking lot lights and they could see the puppy, long legs dangling, curly fur in need of a bath, its muzzle shyly tucked beneath Cullen’s elbow.
“Poor thing. He must be lost from his family.” Hope reached up to softly stroke an ear that flopped over Cullen’s arm.
“It’s more likely he was left here on purpose in the hope that someone leaving the restaurant would give him a home,” Sarah’s mother spoke up.
“That’s us!”
“Honey, we can’t take in a dog. We don’t have the room or the money for a pet.” Sarah had to be reasonable, though her heart broke for the animal.
“Grandma?” Hope moved anxious eyes to her grandmother. “Can’t you take it home for us? I’ll give you my allowance to buy it food.”
“Baby girl, we can’t have pets because of your grandfather’s allergies. You wouldn’t want your grandpa to be sneezy and itchy, would you?”
“I guess not.” Her eyes were downcast with sadness. “But if we leave it here it might starve to death.”
“Or get eaten by wolves,” Meg added, to her little sister’s horror.
“Yeah, packs of wolves in mall parking lots are really a hazard in Longview this year,” Carrie deadpanned.
“I suppose I could take it home with me.” Cullen’s suggestion was halfhearted at best.
“For reals?” Hope’s face lit with gratitude as her frown flipped into a smile, exposing the gap in her teeth. She tugged her hand free from Sarah’s and launched her body at Cullen, wrapping her arms fiercely around his legs. “My hero,” she mumbled against his jeans.
Sarah’s eyes sought Cullen’s and she mouthed, “You don’t have to do this.” He gave an affirmative nod and jostled the puppy’s face free so they could get a glimpse of the long snout and huge eyes.
“Judging by the size of his feet, this boy’s gonna require a big house and a fenced yard. I have the room and I’m home a lot so I can’t imagine why not.”
“Can we come visit him whenever we want?”
“Hope, it’s not polite to invite yourself over to somebody else’s home,” Sarah corrected her child.
By now Cullen was probably wishing he’d had his dinner on a TV tray, alone. All three of her girls had become outspoken and unpredictable, and it seemed she was forever apologizing for their words or behaviors.
“Cullen, please excuse my daughter for being so forward. Just because we enjoy having Hope around, she assumes everybody else will instantly welcome her, too.”
“I don’t enjoy her, she’s always poking through my side of the bedroom,” Meg chimed in.
“Yeah, she’s a pest, always into our stuff,” Carrie added. “So if you’ve got a big house, you can take Hope home with you, too.”
“That’s enough, ladies,” Sarah admonished, cringing inwardly that a respected new friend was being put in such an awkward position.
“Actually, you’re all welcome to come see the puppy once I get him settled. I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid and I’m going to need lots of help. Especially teaching him to swim so he’ll be safe around my pool.”
“You have a pool?” Carrie brightened.
For months she’d been complaining that their apartments didn’t offer a swimming pool for the residents. The complex was small and old but it was in a safe neighborhood near the girls’ schools and that was more important to Sarah. It was bad enough that they’d had to sell their family home. Sarah wasn’t going to make them move away from their friends, as well.
“Yes, I do. It’s nothing fancy but it keeps me cool in the summertime.”
“Backyard pools can be dangerous. A person can drown in a thimble of water.”
“Safety is always a priority at my house, Meg. And I promise to teach the puppy to swim right away.”
“Okay, now that we have that all settled,” Sarah’s mother cut in, “I should be getting home to your father before it gets any later.”
“Thanks for everything, Mom.” Sarah leaned into her mother’s hug as best she could while still holding Cullen’s pizza box. “You’re still available to hang out with the girls on Wednesday evening?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Carrie huffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m too old for a babysitter.”
“Well, that’s good because babysitters expect to be paid and I only expect for you to let me win at Crazy Eights. At least occasionally,” Margaret teased.
She kissed each of the girls, handed their shopping bag full of Cullen’s thoughtful gifts over to Carrie, thanked their guest again for the flowers and then headed toward the practical minivan she kept just for transporting her three grandkids.
“Where are you parked, Cullen? We’ll follow you to your car so I can give you the pizza.”
“My Explorer is just over there, but how about if you take the pizza home with you instead? I’m not sure how safe it will be with a hungry puppy on the loose.”
“You should go straight to that pet shop down the street for a doggy seat-belt thingy,” Meg reminded him. “It’s not safe for him in your backseat otherwise. And you’ll want some food, and a collar, too.”
“Meg, lighten up on the lectures, please,” Sarah insisted.
“Actually, that’s an excellent suggestion. Are you ladies in a hurry or could you come with me to pick out a few things?”
Cheers erupted from the younger girls, and though Carrie didn’t officially agree, there was an expression of mild interest on her face.
“Are you sure?” Sarah asked. “Haven’t you had enough of my zoo crew for one evening?”
“Meg’s right, I should get some things for this little guy. We can’t take too long because they’ll be closing soon. I’d appreciate the help since I don’t have the first clue what to get.”
“It’s the least we can do.” Sarah swept her palm for him to lead the way. Hope bobbed up and down as she skipped beside Cullen across the parking spaces to a shiny, clean SUV that probably didn’t have a back seat filled with hair bows, pink sneakers, and empty Yoo-hoo bottles.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR and two hundred dollars later, Cullen was on his way home. The puppy they’d dubbed Rocket was shivering quietly in the backseat, held securely by his pet restraint. Who knew a dog wasn’t supposed to ride with its head hanging out the car window anymore? But according to Meg, Sarah’s little worrywart, allowing pets to do that was dangerous and really should be illegal.
Cullen yawned as he pulled onto the highway for the twenty-minute ride home. It was only a little after 9:00 p.m., but he was pooped from a roller-coaster ride of a Monday. Sleep had eluded him the night before and he’d been anxious all day over his first lecture of Blair’s class.
And rightly so. It had been a disaster.
“Rocket, a very smart man named Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Tomorrow you’ve gotta help me figure out another way to approach Western Civilization. The mere fact that you’re in my car at this moment is proof that I’m capable of change when the situation demands it, so I’m bound to be able to make adjustments.”
Now that he considered it, the past few hours had called for a lot of flexibility and he’d done fairly well. He’d left the classroom without obsessing too much over his dreadful performance, made a whirlwind shopping effort for virtual strangers, bought dinner for a gaggle of girls and rescued a helpless critter from a pack of wolves. Well, maybe that last part was a bit extreme, but if Meg was willing to give him props he’d take them. Not that there had been any danger of him leaving the puppy on the street. He’d taken one look at the orphaned dog and sworn he would give him a secure, loving home.
“Rocket, my little buddy.” Cullen glanced at the weary, wide eyes behind him. “We’ve both had a tough break, losing our parents when we needed them most. Only a couple of people know this about me and now I’m going to tell you and trust that you’ll keep this between us.”
The dog yawned and settled his belly on the leather seat, but kept his eyes trained toward his new master.
“So, here’s the deal. I was diagnosed over a dozen years ago with post traumatic stress disorder. Dr. Dermer said my pounding heart and sweaty, shaky hands were symptoms of anxiety. I just called it the creeps when the attacks came on during my junior year in high school. I hated the hours I spent with my head under the covers praying for that sensation to go away. Whatever you label the condition, it was awful and I never want to revisit those days. So now I do everything I can to avoid getting overstressed. You’ll like our home. It’s a quiet oasis in a noisy world and I’ll do my best to make it a sanctuary for you, too.”
As soon as they got to the house Cullen began to make good on his promise. As he ran a warm, soapy bath for Rocket, he tuned the radio on the bathroom counter to a classic country channel. While the pup soaked and enjoyed the gentle massage, Cullen hummed along with the soft music he found so much more appealing than the hard rock his friends had preferred growing up. His daddy said it was “racket” and Cullen couldn’t disagree. In his college years he’d stayed away from the loud fraternity parties that were sure to set off his anxiety. So he kept the music low and comforting for himself as well as Rocket.
An hour later the puppy was towel-dried and fed and lay snuggled beside Cullen in the big sleigh bed. His nose was poked into his master’s armpit, as if burying his head and hiding his face would stave off night terrors. It was an attempt at self-soothing that Cullen knew well from many, many efforts of his own to sleep away the pain of loss.
Deep into the night, he suddenly woke to find Rocket kicking and whining in a way Alma would call “chasing rabbits.” As the thrashing became more frantic, the little dog’s cries grew into howls of despair that tore at Cullen’s heart.
“It’s okay, buddy.” He gave Rocket a little shake to ease him from his dreams.
Huge eyes stared upward, pleading for mercy from the man who was still a stranger. The pup shivered with fear of an unfamiliar place.
“I understand,” Cullen crooned as he stroked the long nose and silky ears. He scooped the animal close to his heart, kissed the head that smelled of shampoo and kibbles and wondered why it had never occurred to him that calming the worries of another creature could be so comforting.
He continued to stroke the puppy and the tremors through Rocket’s body grew less frequent and his breathing grew deeper. Cullen slipped his hand around the thin body and cupped the soft tummy.
“I’m gonna fatten you up so you forget what hunger feels like and love you so much that all you remember is being wanted. You won’t suffer through another night alone, not if I have anything to say about it.”
Cullen pulled the blanket close to warm his body and the puppy closer to warm his soul.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
“I REALLY APPRECIATE your time, Dr. Temple,” an attractive young woman thanked Cullen for answering her questions after class.
“It’s not necessary for you to be formal, Trish,” he insisted. “Call me Cullen.”
Sarah waited patiently off to the side and listened while several students engaged their handsome instructor with questions. Everything about this evening’s class had been so different from the first that Sarah had been compelled to stick around and compliment him. Evidently, others felt the same since a line had formed as soon as the lesson concluded.
“Well, I see you brought your ‘A’ game tonight,” Sarah teased once everyone else had gone.
“Nobody’s more amazed than I am,” Cullen admitted.
“How did you prepare differently this time?”
“I simply followed my mentor’s orders and applied the process that’s always worked for me.”
A relieved grin that would melt any woman’s heart spread across Cullen’s face. It was such an endearing sight, especially after the worry in his gray eyes a few days before.
“Blair had suggested that I study his notes and then reorganize them into my own words. I didn’t have the sense to heed his advice for the first class, and you saw how well that worked out for me. So this time around, instead of teaching directly from what he’d written, I reviewed the chapters and then, based on what I’d learned about the subject myself years ago, I just shot from the hip. When you’re dealing with ancient civilizations, there’s a pretty fair chance nothing’s changed much since you last checked the facts.”
“Well, you certainly bring the time period to life. I was watching the faces of your students and they were completely engaged.”
“When you have fellas like Charlemagne and Genghis Khan to work with you don’t have to dig too deep to find a story that will keep the listeners tuned in for ninety minutes.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Cullen. You’re vying with the sci-fi network, the Kardashians and Grand Theft Auto for the attention of these young people, and I’d say holding their focus for an hour and a half is quite an accomplishment. You’re a natural.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am, ’tweren’t nothin’.” He lowered his chin in a show of false shyness. “You’ll blow an old country boy’s head up so big his Stetson won’t fit.”
“Just accept the compliment,” Sarah insisted as she gave Cullen’s bicep a light punch. Her knuckles connected with solid arm beneath the long sleeve he seemed to favor, even in the heat. The lightweight flannel obviously shielded a muscular build, and for some reason, Sarah was glad he wore modest clothing around all these young women. Whether or not it was by design, it was probably a smart defense against inappropriate attention.
“The bottom line, Dr. Temple, is you gave an excellent lecture and I can’t wait to dive into the Crusades with you this semester.”
“You, my dear, are a rare find indeed. Any student excited to spend her summer recalling bloody battles is a woman after my own heart.”
“Aw, shucks, sir,” she mirrored his silly comment and drawl. “You’ll turn a simple girl’s head with such purty words.”
“How about if you two take your mutual admiration society meeting outside so Merle can mop this floor?” a voice growled from the doorway.
“Evening, Miss Nancy!” Cullen called as he gathered his notes and shoved them into a well-worn backpack. “Sorry to hold up the operation. We’ll be out of here in three minutes.”
“She’s still here?” Sarah asked. “Is she the night watchman, too?”
Cullen chuckled. “She and Merle have been keeping company for years, but he can’t join her for wine coolers and Skip-Bo until the floors are dry.”
Sarah shifted the carryall that contained the loaner textbook and her legal pads and walked alongside Cullen to the exit of the lecture room.
“How are things going with the puppy?”
“Rocket has been a revelation.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I expected he’d be a lot of trouble and under my feet constantly. Which he is, but in a nice way. I figured Alma would be disgusted to find rawhide chews and dog hair in my bed, but she just shook out my sheets and brushed off my favorite quilt without a complaint and sidestepped the water bowl on the bathroom floor.”
“Alma?” Sarah repeated the name carefully to cover the sinking in her spirit. Some woman was hanging out in her new friend’s bedroom and somehow that seemed wrong. “She shakes out your sheets, huh?”
Well, what do you expect at his age, Sarah Elizabeth, that he’s still an altar boy?
“Sorry. That didn’t exactly sound complimentary to the most important woman in my life, did it?”
“You’re a grown man and how you categorize a consenting relationship is your private business.”
“You’re right, Sarah. And after all these years I really should call her mi amorcito—Lord knows she’s earned the title of sweetheart.”
“Wait.” She halted their forward motion. “Who is this Alma to you?”
“She’s the woman who raised me and my three brothers when our parents were killed. She and her husband, Felix, stepped in and became our surrogate parents. They kept us on the straight and narrow to make sure none of us ended up in prison like our grandfather.”
“Your grandfather served time in prison?”
“That’s East Texas lore for another evening.” Cullen waved away the question. “I’ll be glad to share it with you over a glass of wine one night but Pap Temple’s story is old news that I’d rather not get into right this minute.”
The knowledge that Cullen’s grandfather had gone to prison took Sarah by surprise. She ought to do a little research or talk to her parents. Surely they’d remember the story of a man named Pap Temple if it was a part of the local history, as Cullen claimed.
“So, you were updating me on Rocket.”
Cullen’s exhausted smile said this was a more pleasant subject.
“The past two nights have been a challenge, but we’re managing. The poor little fella whimpers and kicks in his dreams, but I can survive a few weeks without REM sleep if lullabies and snuggles help him adjust. How could any man resist such a call to adventure.”
And how could any woman resist such a heartwarming image?
* * *
AS HE PUSHED the heavy security door open and held it wide for Sarah to exit the building, Cullen could only imagine what terrors might invade a puppy’s subconscious mind. But he had a sneaking suspicion they were akin to his own fears and hurts that had kept him from resting as a teen. Spooning Rocket close, rubbing his tummy and murmuring soft sounds every couple of hours seemed to give them both peace, and that was a fair trade for the whole pot of coffee he’d have to consume in the morning to keep himself awake.
“It was so kind of you to rescue that puppy, Cullen. You’re Hope’s new hero.”
“Speaking of your girls, how about bringing them to my house for a barbecue this weekend?”
A crease formed between her auburn brows as she answered. “You’re so kind to offer, and I’m tempted to accept. I’m just not sure that’s such a great idea.”
“What concerns you about a picnic?”
“How much time do you have?”
“As much as you want, my friend.”
They stepped out into the muggy evening that was still lit by the waning summer sun. He sunk down on a nearby marble bench and Sarah joined him.
Her blue eyes searched his face, maybe for a clue about how much to say.
“So talk,” he encouraged. The woman carried a lot on her slender shoulders and it didn’t come as a surprise that she had to consider emotional burdens carefully.
“Each of my girls is a needy mess.”
“Aren’t all kids?”
“By nature, yes. But losing their daddy and then our home—”
“Wait.” He placed a hand on the small of her back, the touch intended to be comforting and nothing more. “You lost your home?”
She nodded, a sad smile curving her lips.
“There was a mountain of medical bills and most of Joe’s life insurance went to cover that obligation. There was no chance I could manage the mortgage on my salary, so we sold the house and moved into an apartment. We’re comfortable, but there’s nothing cushy about our lifestyle.”
“From what I’ve observed, your girls are part of a loving family and that’s more valuable than stuff.”
“Thirty-somethings understand that, but try to explain to a tween that not owning an iPad builds character.”
“So how does that translate into a barbecue at Chez Cullen being a bad idea?”
“Oh, it’s a wonderful idea! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
“Then what?”
“That’s the question that worries me.”
Cullen scrunched his brow and exaggerated a squint to show his confusion.
“If we come for an afternoon, then what? My girls have all learned to compartmentalize their emotions, but it’s not been easy. One afternoon of fun at a male friend’s house could create expectations on their part. It’s not fair to ask you to deal with the fallout.”
He moved his hand from her back to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“How about if you let me handle the fallout, as you call it. Growing up in a house with four rambunctious boys has made me fairly resilient.”
“I’m just warning you, young females are different animals. They think and react in unexpected ways.”
“So having three of them is sorta like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates?”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
“You never know what you’re gonna get,” they replied in unison.
He held up a three-fingered Boy Scout salute.
“I solemnly pledge to accept all responsibility for the outcome of a pool party.”
“That’s a grave oath you just made, Dr. Temple. When you say your prayers tonight you’d best ask for a special layer of protection for your life and property.”
“Come on,” he chided. “How much damage can little girls do?”
“And as long as you’re already on your knees, ask for protection for your heart, too.”
She was trying to make light of the situation, but she’d done her best to spell it out and give him fair warning. Well, he’d keep that in mind.
But for now he and Rocket had a barbecue to plan. He needed to test the waters, find out if he would sink or swim in a chaotic environment, even if he found he was already in over his head.
CHAPTER SIX (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
“WHAT ON EARTH was I thinking, Rocket?”
Cullen moved from room to room in a last-ditch effort to tidy up his cluttered home before his company arrived.
His brothers had been teasing him for years that his house looked like one of those ancient bookmobiles had pulled through the front door and exploded. Volumes of every conceivable genre and subject were crammed into shelves and stacked in corners. Each room in the rambling, ranch-style home smelled of printed words bound by glue, cardboard and stitching. The aroma was reverent to Cullen, something most people, and certainly his obnoxious brothers, would never understand.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Hunt had displayed a love of cooking at an early age and the kitchen had long been his sanctuary. Their older brother Joiner loved all things equine. The inside of a barn, smelling of horse sweat and leather tack, was his place of solace. And then there was the oldest, McCarthy, a natural bean counter whose blood pressure was kept steady by frequent immersion in spreadsheets and 401(k) statements.
As much grief as they’d always given Cullen over his obsession for education, the four Temple brothers shared a bond when it came to having a passion. And each man’s passion seemed to come from deep inside and wouldn’t be snuffed out or denied.
Alma said their parents had been no different, and from Cullen’s earliest memories, he had to agree. Their father was a surgeon who’d given countless hours to the hospital and the community it served. And their mother had had an incredible green thumb and knack for growing things. The constant cycle of fertilizing, planting, nurturing, weeding, pruning and picking had been what she’d adored, second only to the five men in her family.
Yep, no doubt about it, they were all destined to obsess, just as their patriarch had once done over striking it rich in the East Texas oil fields. That thought reminded Cullen that he’d offered to tell Sarah about his grandfather. Maybe he’d get that chore over with today since it was best to let the old skeleton out of the closet early and be finished with him. Even so, being endowed with the Temple name in these parts would never completely allow Cullen to bury Pap’s notorious legacy.
“Anybody home?”
“In here,” Cullen shouted. Rocket growled, a sound too small and endearing to be threatening.
“Hey, little brother!” Joiner’s voice boomed from the front entryway.
“I’ve gotta start locking my door,” Cullen called from the den that served as his study.
“Yeah, as if anybody with a lick of sense would want to steal a stack of old books.”
Rocket scurried to investigate the newcomer, skidding to a stop as he was confronted by cowboy boots and jean-clad legs.
“Whoa! Who’s this?”
Joiner squatted, held open his arms and Rocket went into the embrace as if his long-lost friend had come home from the war.
“As I said, I should start locking the door because it seems my new watchdog isn’t gonna keep out the riffraff.”
“Since when do you have an animal in your home?” Joiner gathered Rocket’s long limbs and stood, reminding Cullen of a cowpoke holding a rescued calf.
“Since that one wandered out from behind a Dumpster at the pizza restaurant begging for a handout.”
“You took in a stray?” Joiner seemed incredulous, and rightly so. Cullen had always been too focused on his studies to make room for an animal in his life, much less in his home.
“How could I resist that face?”
“Looks like your boy’s got a lot of golden retriever in him,” Joiner noted.
“That’s what the vet said when I took Rocket in to get him checked out and vaccinated.”
Cullen watched his brother tenderly cradle the pup, stroking his blond coat and floppy ears while Rocket poked his curious nose at Joiner’s shirt pocket.
“Can he have a peppermint?” Joiner fished out a striped candy.
“Just this once. But if he throws it up, the mess belongs to you.”
Joiner settled Rocket on the rug, tore open the small cellophane packet and offered the treat. The puppy sniffed it and turned uncertain eyes to his master. Warmth shot through Cullen’s heart at Rocket’s request for approval.
“It’s okay, you can have it,” Cullen assured his new buddy.
Rocket scooped up the candy with a swipe of his pink tongue and crunched it between puppy teeth as sharp as carpet tacks.
“How many years have you been carrying Life Savers in your pocket, Joiner?”
“As many as I’ve been coaxing and training horses. They all seem to cooperate a little better if you sweeten the deal.” He stood but kept an eye on Rocket as the puppy enjoyed the treat.
“Think that principle applies to girls and cookies?” Cullen had purchased an assortment of baked goods, hoping to win favor with Carrie, Meg and Hope. And maybe Sarah.
“Sugar and females have gone hand in hand since the Garden of Eden. I personally think the forbidden fruit was a MoonPie instead of an apple.. I can’t imagine why it would be any different today,” Joiner replied. “Why do you ask?”
“I have company on the way.”
“If you already have plans, why’d you ask me to come by?” Joiner slanted a questioning glance at Cullen.
“I figured it might be nice to invite my brother over for a swim and some lunch.” Cullen tried to sound offended by Joiner’s suspicion.
“My, aren’t you domestic all of the sudden.”
“A new friend from the university is bringing her three daughters over to use the pool.”
Joiner’s head snapped back, his eyes wide.
“A new friend? Anybody I might recognize?”
“It’s always a possibility in a town this small. Her name’s Sarah Eason.”
“Joe Eason’s widow?” Joiner asked, his brows drawing together.
“You knew her husband?”
“I met him at the gym years ago and we played racquetball a handful of times before he got too sick. Nice guy. I’d heard he passed away a while ago.” Joiner gave a sad shake of his head.
“Did you ever meet his wife?”
“No, never did. I was aware that Joe was married with kids, but guys don’t do much more than point and grunt within the perimeter of the gym. Where’d you meet her?”
“Sarah’s auditing the lecture I took over for Blair this semester.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that? McCarthy mentioned you were teaching a class of your own now. Aren’t you worried responsibility might cramp your style?”
“That’s the pot callin’ the kettle black,” Cullen scoffed. “You’ve never been responsible for more than shoveling horse manure in your life.”
“Hey, that’s not true. Ninety percent of my time off the polo field is spent fundraising.”
“How’s that working out for your own checkbook?”
Joiner held a palm outward. “Enough. Nobody has to remind me how much time and money I’ve exhausted in the past ten years when I could hardly afford either. Now I’ve gotta figure out how to invest what I’ve got left once the ponies are sold.”
“You gonna sell Pistol, too?”
“No way. He’s the smartest investment I ever made. I’m going to stud him out for as long as he’s interested in fraternizing with Texas fillies.”
“How long is Render willing to put you up at his ranch?”
“He’s agreed to trade his foreman’s cabin for my services until I can find the right place or he hires a permanent manager.”
Car doors slammed and high-pitched female voices announced the arrival of Cullen’s guests. Rocket’s head angled toward the sounds. He woofed softly and ambled down the hallway to the front entrance.
“Sounds like your date’s here.”
“Cut it out. Alma’s coming over too so it’s strictly on the up and up.” Cullen dismissed his brother’s insinuation. “The lady could use a friend and I happened to be in the right place at the right moment. And between you and me, Blair suggested I try something completely different, stretch my legs a bit. So I’ve enrolled in a psychology class for the fall semester. I figured observing some kids who have lost their daddy, kind of like we did, might be helpful to me in the class.”
“Yeah, well, just watch your step or you’ll have a ready-made family on your hands.”
A ready-made family...
A knock on the door resounded in the entry hall. Rocket began to bark in earnest and giggly girls squealed in response on the front porch. The tranquility of his home was about to be shattered, for the day at least, and he had no one to blame but himself.
A ready-made family?
Perish the thought!
“Want me to get it?” Joiner said, offering to greet Cullen’s guests.
“I’ll go. But you can keep an eye on Rocket for a minute.” He took a leash from the peg by the door, attached it to the puppy’s collar and handed it to Joiner.
The two moved toward the kitchen to let Cullen pass and he inhaled a final deep breath of calm air before letting hurricane Eason into the house.
“Greetings!” He pulled the door wide, expecting Sarah’s girls to be lined up like little soldiers waiting for instructions. Boy, howdy, had he been wrong. The force of being crowded and squeezed by three pairs of arms as young bodies crushed against his midsection nearly knocked that final calm breath out of him.
“Ladies, we agreed to show some restraint today, remember?” Sarah coached her exuberant brood. “Sorry, Cullen, but Meg and Hope have been watching the clock since their Cheerios went mushy at 6:00 a.m. If they’d had their way we’d have been here hours ago.”
“Yeah,” Hope mumbled, her face pressed against Cullen’s pant leg. “Even Carrie got out of bed without griping for a change.”
At the mention of her name, Carrie dropped away from the group hug, a mask of indifference replacing the smile she’d been wearing. “MYOB, Runtzilla. It’s not exactly front page news when a person gets up early on a Saturday morning.”
“By early she means ten o’clock,” Meg explained with an unsympathetic roll of her eyes—eyes the same lovely color as her mother’s. “I wanted to come sooner to enjoy the clear weather. It’s a documented fact that spending time in the sunshine is the only reliable way to create vitamin D in your skin, and studies show the lack of it can lead to schizophrenia.”
“Well, then, Dr. Jekyll, you’d better get outside quick before Miss Hyde makes her first appearance of the day,” Carrie snapped.
“Where’s Rocket?” Hope looked past Cullen and into the house.
“He’s inside with my brother.”
“The Cowboy Chef’s here?” Carrie’s question was almost breathless, her eyes all kinds of dreamy.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you but it’s my older brother Joiner. Hunt’s working today. His fiancée owns Temple Territory and they have their own pool event going on over there this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Carrie’s face fell. “I hadn’t heard he was engaged.”
“What did you expect, that he’d wait on you for ten more years?” Meg taunted.
“No, but I was at least hoping to see him while he was still available. The Cowboy Chef is a hottie patottie.”
“Hey! He’s my identical twin so I assume that makes me hot, too, huh?” Cullen held his arms wide, waiting for a compliment.
“I meant hot in a television sort of way. Your look is more...” Carrie paused, not wanting to dig the hole deeper.
“Rustic?”
“Exactly!”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Your word, not mine.”
“I wanna see Rocket!” Hope danced with excitement, the ruffles on her swimsuit cover-up jiggling to her imagined beat.
“Let him loose, Joiner!” Cullen called down the hallway.
Seconds later the golden-haired pup came flying through the doorway, skinny legs a flurry of speed, mouth wide in a doggy grin as he hit Hope with big front paws and knocked her to the ground.
“He remembers me!” she shouted, and then burst into shrieks of laughter, assuring Cullen she’d survived the impact. Meg and Carrie joined the calamity on the ground, rolling in the warm, summer grass, taking turns letting Rocket plant wet, joyful kisses on their faces.
Cullen watched, fascinated by the moment of sweet innocence and pure play, trying to remember a day when he’d been so young, so unafraid.
Trying to remember what life had felt like before PTSD.
Before he started cutting himself.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
SARAH STRUGGLED TO concentrate on what Cullen was saying about his lecture plans for the coming week. Between watching her girls splashing in the pool and worrying whether she should be helping Alma and Joiner in the kitchen, she was far too distracted to dive into subjects of historical importance with Cullen.
What Sarah really wanted to do was dive into the cool depths, but her host seemed content to sit in the shade. So when Cullen and Rocket went inside for a pitcher of lemonade, she quickly slipped off her Bermuda shorts, perched near the Gunite steps and let her feet dangle in the blue, blue water.
“Get in with us, Mama,” Hope coaxed from the shallows, safe in her Pretty Princess swim vest.
“This is enough for now, maybe later.”
It didn’t seem appropriate to take off her T-shirt and get in when Cullen showed no interest, even with the girls taunting him. The puppy stayed hot on his master’s heels and was also quite content to stay clear of the water, his pink belly exposed as he stretched out, napping in the short grass.
“But we should have four people for games and races.”
“Will I do?”
Heads turned as Joiner stepped out onto the patio wearing surfer-style, knee-length trunks. The loud, floral print so popular in decades past was making a comeback, and on Joiner’s trim body Sarah could certainly see the appeal of the low-riding garment.
“You’re on my team!” Hope called.
“We should toss a coin to decide whose team he’s on,” Meg insisted.
“How about if we just toss you on your pointed head instead?” Carrie cupped her hand and splashed her sister.
“Now, now, ladies. There’s no need to fight over me when you can take turns instead,” Joiner teased as he closed the door behind him and then walked the perimeter of the pool before stepping up onto the diving board. “I have enough energy for several rounds of competition, if you’re up to it.”
“Make a big splash!” Hope screamed, delighted with the new development.
Joiner bounced twice, the board bending beneath his weight as he balanced on the balls of his feet. Finally he took a high leap and gracefully folded at the waist in the classic jackknife position. But instead of stretching his body to make a clean entry, he tucked into a tight ball and slammed into the water cannonball style, the impact sending sprays arching in every direction.
The girls shrieked and shielded their faces from the unexpected soaking.
“Was that splash big enough for you?” Joiner asked after he surfaced next to Hope.
Her playful response was to kick water in his face.
When he karate-chopped the surface with the edge of his hand in reply, the battle began in earnest―three sisters against Cullen’s brother in a contest for who could launch the strongest torrent in the other’s direction. The girls held their own quite well.
Sarah jumped to her feet and retreated to the table just out of reach of the wet madness.
The glass patio door slid wide once more and Cullen stepped through carrying a tray of plastic cups, a tall pitcher and a bowl overflowing with snack mix.
“Let me guess.” He settled the tray on the tabletop. “Joiner did his special dive for them?”
“It was extremely impressive.” Sarah filled the cups of ice with the tart drink she’d seen Alma lovingly squeeze from fresh lemons.
“And extremely effective—if your intention is to empty half the pool in one motion. There goes my water bill.”
Rocket wandered over to retrieve a bit of pretzel that had found its way to the grass.
“Ladies, how about taking a break?” she called.
Hope climbed the steps, deposited her Pretty Princess vest beside the pool and dripped her way to the table.
“Look, Mama.” She held her palm outward. “My fingers are all raisiny.”
“That happens when they get waterlogged. Catch your breath and have a snack and they’ll plump up again in no time.”
Meg and Carrie joined the table while Joiner began to swim laps, his body slicing through the water in sure, confident motions.
“If you hadn’t noticed, Joiner’s the swimmer in the family.”
“Did you have a pool when you were a kid?” Meg asked over a mouthful of the salty snack mix.
“No, but we had a membership to the YMCA. We all had lessons, but Joiner was the only one who really took to the water. Hunt and I prefer the baseball diamond, and for Mac it’s the golf course.”
“My mom says golf is a waste of time and money invented for the purpose of keeping a husband away from his wife’s honey-do list,” Sarah shared.
“I continue to be impressed with your mother’s wisdom.” Cullen smiled and raised his red Solo cup in salute.
“Do you cover up because your skin burns really badly?” Meg pointed to Cullen’s lightweight khakis and long sleeve T-shirt on such a perfect summer day.
“He fries worse than bacon on a hot skillet and he’s really hairy and gross underneath his clothes,” Joiner answered as he approached the table. He stood next to Hope and, to her delight, shook like a dog, flinging drops of water in every direction.
“You wanna learn to swim without that floatie thing?”
“Can I?” Hope turned wide eyes to her mother for permission.
“Joiner, you’re kind to offer but we can’t trouble two Temple men this weekend.”
“Let him do it, Sarah. Joiner’s very patient with kids and animals, which is why he’s going to teach Rocket to swim, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’re here and we’re wet,” Joiner pointed out the obvious to Sarah. “I can teach her a lot in a half hour, as long as her sisters don’t mind giving us the pool for a bit.”
In response, Carrie and Meg tossed beach towels over a couple of lounge chairs, poked their earbuds into place and stretched out to sun and enjoy their music.
“Carrie, turn your iPod down. I can hear Def Leppard all the way over here,” Sarah insisted.
“She’s right.” Meg thumped her sister to get her attention. “You’ll blow your eardrums out.”
“Do that again and I’ll break your fingers,” Carrie threatened.
“Let’s go, kiddo.” Joiner invited Hope with a wave of his hand and the two made a beeline for the pool.
Cullen cast a curious glance toward her surly daughter and then settled into a chair beside Sarah.
“I apologize for my oldest. She seems determined to make the awkward middle school years as tough as possible for all of us.”
“No worries, Joiner used to speak to me the same way. It lasted a couple of years but he eventually grew some respect for me and cut the crap talk.”
“Was there something in particular that made him change?”
“I shot up about six inches one summer and learned to swing a mean baseball bat.”
They shared a laugh.
“I can’t thank you enough for this break from the apartment today.”
“No thanks necessary. It’s nice to have some company besides my brothers. And Alma loves somebody to fuss over. She’s in there right now singing away while she makes chicken salad. There haven’t been any kids in this house since the previous owners moved out.”
“How come such a handsome guy doesn’t have a family of his own by now?”
“The Temple boys get asked that a lot. Not that handsome part, since the others are somewhat toady, but the marriage part because we’re all still single. I expect it’s because we witnessed an extraordinary relationship between our parents and none of us will be happy with anything less. When that kind of love comes along, we’ll recognize it.”
“I understand what you mean.” Sarah glanced toward her older daughters, who drowsed in the sun a few feet away. “I’m grateful that my girls have my parents as role models of marriage, since they’re growing up without a man in the house.”
“Do you think you’ll ever remarry?”
“Eventually, but I have the girls to concentrate on so that’s not even on my radar. I enjoyed marriage and partnership, so I do hope that blessing comes around again.”
“You have a nice outlook after the loss your family has experienced.”
“Having my daughters makes all the difference, to me and my parents. They started hinting for babies at my wedding reception.”
“I get that, too. Hunt’s engaged now so that takes the pressure off the rest of us to give Alma and Felix grandchildren before they’re too old to enjoy them, as if people in their fifties are old these days.”
“Mom keeps telling me fifty is the new thirty.”
“Yeah, well, Miss Nancy says seventy is the same drag it’s always been.”
“What’s it like to have gone to college for so many years that you know everybody on campus?”
“It’s the same as any other job after a dozen years or so, it’s just that I pay them instead of them paying me. When I wouldn’t go away after my first Ph.D., they started asking me to be a guest lecturer, and then to stand in when the history department needed short-term coverage. Doing those two things built my dubious reputation as a subject matter expert and allowed me to build a résumé. Now I can shop myself out to other universities when they have to fill some empty space in the curriculum and I want a free trip to visit a new city. I’ve got everybody fooled into thinking I know what I’m doing.”
“Cullen, why do you sell yourself short by making light of your talent?”
“It’s just easier to make a joke than to be one. I think it’s the birth-order curse of being born number three of four.”
“Well, kindly leave the doubts at home when you come to class, because the students believe you’re number one.”
“Including you?”
“Including me.” Sarah touched his sleeve lightly, to ensure he took her seriously.
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Mae Nunn
Could he really be Professor Perfect? A handsome professor in a flannel shirt and a Texas Rangers cap? Returning to university just became less intimidating–and more intriguing–than Sarah Eason expected. As a widow in her thirties and single mom of three, Sarah's hardly a typical coed. Except Professor Cullen Temple is starting to make her feel like one. He's brilliant, attentive, incredibly sweet…and he's winning over her girls. Yet there's something troubled in those gray eyes. Something that makes her wonder if he might be too good to be true.Plus a bonus short story by USA TODAY bestselling author Ingrid Weaver
Could he really be Professor Perfect?
A handsome professor in a flannel shirt and a Texas Rangers cap? Returning to university just became less intimidating—and more intriguing—than Sarah Eason expected. As a widow in her thirties and single mom of three, Sarah’s hardly a typical coed. Except Professor Cullen Temple is starting to make her feel like one. He’s brilliant, attentive, incredibly sweet…and he’s winning over her girls. Yet there’s something troubled in those gray eyes. Something that makes her wonder if he might be too good to be true.
Plus a bonus short story by USA TODAY bestselling author Ingrid Weaver
“Sounds like your date’s here.”
“Cut it out,” Cullen said, dismissing his brother’s insinuation. “The lady needed a friend and I happened to be in the right place at the right moment.”
“Yeah, well just watch your step or you’ll have a ready-made family on your hands.”
A ready-made family…
A knock on the door resounded in the entry hall. Rocket began to bark in earnest and giggly girls squealed in response on the front porch. The tranquility of his home was about to be shattered, for the day at least, and he had no one to blame but himself.
A ready-made family?
Perish the thought!
Dear Reader (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9),
Welcome back to East Texas and life with the Temple Brothers, whose stories are unfolding Deep in the Heart. In Fatherhood 101 you’re going to fall for Cullen Temple, named for Texas oilman and philanthropist Roy Cullen. Cullen’s life seems to be an open book, but in truth it’s more like a confidential file. When an abandoned pup, a young widow and three little girls invade his quiet life, Cullen must decide which is his greater fear: risking the best thing that’s ever happened to him or risking his grip on reality. In true Lone Star State fashion, Cullen will sweep you off your high heel boots and along with him on his search for happiness.
Before the year is out, you’re also going to get to know Joiner Temple through the eyes of my new writing partner, Gwen Ford Faulkenberry. Gwen is a high school coach’s wife, English teacher and a busy mother of four who knows firsthand the joys and dramas of a big family. Gwen will take Joiner on a wild ride as the polo-playing Temple brother learns how to be a real cowboy.
Until we meet again, let your light shine!
Mae Nunn
Contents
Fatherhood 101 (#ulink_27d31655-8fbe-5f68-87fa-a115c96cfa1b)
Dear Reader (#u2b5cef4c-575f-551a-b094-74e95b99bc29)
Chapter One (#u7d07e276-567d-523f-a159-8ddf00cc181c)
Chapter Two (#u95c5c46b-29b7-551a-8853-97f03f70df5f)
Chapter Three (#ua190f0e2-e7ec-5db7-9ec3-dae3cb4b3995)
Chapter Four (#u30867a7b-7f60-50db-b023-487a74d1f257)
Chapter Five (#u0ef8d0e5-4116-5200-8eec-6362a44dffca)
Chapter Six (#u0255a965-9ec7-5c00-adea-096404b235bd)
Chapter Seven (#ubf680fa0-45bd-51df-9757-5e2fe1280a76)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Finders Keepers (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Fatherhood 101
Mae Nunn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Fatherhood 101 (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
Mae Nunn
MAE NUNN
grew up in Houston and graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in communications. When she fell for a transplanted Englishman living in Atlanta, she moved to Georgia and made an effort to behave like a Southern belle. But when she found that her husband was quite agreeable to life as a born-again Texan, Mae happily returned to her cowgirl roots and cowboy boots! In 2008 Mae retired from thirty years of corporate life to focus on her career as a full-time author.
“All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” —Abraham Lincoln
This book is dedicated to you, Mama. You were my spiritual guide, my champion, my conscience and my example of a Proverbs 31 woman. I miss you so very much.
Wilma Ruth Holliday
February 6, 1929—September 18, 2003
CHAPTER ONE (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
“CULLEN, IT’S TIME you stopped being the Texas version of Peter Pan and accepted some grown-up responsibility,” Dr. Blair Mastal insisted.
“I take umbrage with that statement,” Cullen Temple responded with an upward tilt of his chin that probably needed a shave, as usual.
Blair was a popular professor who’d been Cullen’s mentor and friend throughout his college career. And after several degrees in history, college truly had become Cullen’s career.
Blair was making a familiar point and it just happened to be shared by Cullen’s three brothers and everybody else who felt compelled to express an opinion on his obsession with higher education.
“Well, you can take umbrage all you want to as long as you take over my classes for the summer term.”
“I’m not a teacher,” Cullen protested. The very thought of being the one accountable for whether or not the students learned all the material in the syllabus caused gooseflesh to prickle the skin beneath his favorite flannel shirt. “I can’t replace you in the classroom, Blair.”
“That’s hogwash. You’ve stood in for me a hundred times over the past dozen or so years.”
“Standing in for a few days and stepping in for you forever are completely different. Besides, I don’t have a teaching degree―I’m not qualified.”
“The university wants a subject matter expert, not an educator. In that respect you are overqualified, but they’ll turn a blind eye if you’ll accept the contract, even on a trial basis.”
“My life is sublime just the way it is, thank you very much. Why would I complicate perfection?”
“How about the fact that you’re stuck in a rut about as low as a snake’s belly in a wagon wheel track? This building has been your home away from home for a dozen years. You’ve run out of degrees to earn. Consider shaking things up a bit.”
“I happen to enjoy being a student of history.”
“I’m not suggesting that you stop learning, but how about studying somebody alive for a change?”
“No way.” Cullen shook his head. “Folks who’ve been dead for hundreds of years are dependable, predictable. They’re not likely to up and leave you just when you start appreciating their company.”
“They’re also not going to keep you warm at night, or watch the Rangers game with you.”
Blair swatted the bill of Cullen’s baseball cap and it flopped down over his eyes. He ducked the fake punch his mentor always threatened to land on his jaw and adjusted his cap.
“Seriously, my friend,” Blair continued. “For a man of your advanced years you’re sorta one-dimensional.”
“Hey, I’m only thirty-four years old. I have my whole life ahead of me,” Cullen insisted.
“But when your daddy was thirty-four, his life was already half-over. If he were still alive I have a hunch he’d suggest that you give fewer hours to the people in our textbooks and more to the living, breathing folks right here on this campus.”
Much as the idea of teaching scared the heck out of Cullen, Blair’s guidance had always been sound. “I’ll sleep on it,” Cullen agreed finally.
“With your life experience, you’d be a good fit over in Longview Hall. You could help some people, give back to the community.”
“I see where this is headed. You’re pimping for the psychology department to assuage your guilt over taking away their senior counselor.”
“There’s some truth in that, but my wife wants the change of scenery as much as I do.”
“What’s really behind this sudden desire you have to move to Europe? Have you stopped paying your taxes? Are you leading a double life? How come you have to hightail it out of town with hardly any notice?”
“I’ve had an offer to be an exchange-student liaison at our embassy in Rome, and it’s too perfect to resist. Ailean and I haven’t ever lived outside of Texas.”
“And most Texans are quite happy to keep it that way.”
“For my first sixty years on this earth, I shared that opinion. But the two of us have been talking for the past few years about an extended stay in Europe. My health scare last winter made us realize if we’re going to make it happen, it has to be now. Life is short and fragile. We’ve been offered a gift horse, and we’re not going to look it in the mouth. Ambassador Phillips wants us there in three weeks and we don’t plan to disappoint him.”
Cullen was practical by nature. What Blair said made sense, and as one who’d been afforded the ability to pursue his interests, Cullen wouldn’t begrudge his friend the right to do the same.
“Okay, I can accept that you and Ailean are pulling up stakes, but that doesn’t make me the right choice for your position here at the university.”
The respected history teacher lifted a box and shoved it into his reluctant protégé’s arms.
“These are my lecture notes for the class that starts next week. Take them home and go over them tonight. I believe the temptation to reorganize my thoughts will have you so excited, you won’t be able to sleep. But if I’m wrong, drop them off tomorrow and I’ll go back to the drawing board for another recommendation.”
“Is there any chance at all that you’ll change your mind about leaving?” Cullen was hopeful. Mastal was not only Cullen’s mentor, he’d become a stand-in for the father Cullen had lost in his teens.
“None, whatsoever. My better half has already listed our house with a Realtor and hired an estate sale coordinator.”
“Estate sale? You’re not dying, you’re taking a sabbatical. You’ll be home in a few months.”
“We don’t plan to return to Kilgore, Cullen.”
“Ever?”
“For a visit, sure. But not permanently. Our boys are in Denver and Phoenix. We’re going to enjoy Italy for as long as it lasts and then we’ll figure out where to go next. If we don’t make a new home in one of the cities where our kids live, then we’re going to check out Barcelona or Prague.”
Cullen nodded and moved toward the door. There was no point in arguing against what he’d have done himself if the situation was reversed.
“Then you’ll take a gander at my notes and consider teaching the class?”
“I’d rather go to Italy with you, but it seems Ailean has spoken for that position so I’ll consider accepting this one.”
Blair placed a warm hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “This is tailor-made for you, just as the Italy job is for me. Have faith in yourself.”
With the box of notes balanced in one hand, the brass knob clutched in the other, Cullen swung the office door wide and paused before crossing the threshold.
“Is there anything else?” Dr. Mastal asked.
“Yes, and it’s important. I should speak up before I lose my nerve.”
“What is it, son?” The older man’s voice was quiet, patient.
“Can I call dibs on those bookcases in your den, the ones with the glass doors?”
“I’ll tell Ailean they’ve been spoken for.” He chuckled. “But I warn you they come with all her psychology textbooks.”
“And unless you’re donating it to the university library, can I have your resource collection, too?”
“Don’t press your luck.”
Blair pushed Cullen through the door and closed it on his heels, and Cullen was pretty sure he heard his friend throw the lock.
* * *
SARAH EASON WAS a goose in a new world. The wide halls of the university administration building had seemed exciting when she was fresh out of high school, but all these years later the arched ceilings and granite floors felt foreign and forbidding.
“I can do this,” she muttered to herself as she swept the red hair she’d inherited from her daddy out of her eyes. “I’m a thirty-nine-year-old woman, for crying out loud. I’ve survived the birth of three daughters and the death of my husband. I won’t be intimidated by an old woman who got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
Besides, there was little reason to believe the grouch who’d answered the phone in the office of admissions that morning would still be on duty all these hours later. But Sarah stiffened her spine in case there was a battle to be waged. She’d promised herself she’d register for classes today, and come hell or high water, by golly she would do it!
That is, if she could find the office.
Where on earth were they hiding room 104B? She glanced down at the directions she’d scribbled that morning while packing sandwiches and chips for the girls and a Lean Cuisine meal for herself. Maybe she’d written it down wrong. Maybe the grouch had intentionally given her bad information. Or maybe God had sent the old biddy as a sign that going back to school wasn’t such a hot idea.
“Can I help you?” a voice rumbled above her head.
Sarah raised her eyes and tipped her head up to see who’d made the kind offer. Familiar gray eyes waited for her response.
“Have we met?” she asked, unable to recall where she’d seen the lazy grin that was set in a handsome face dusted with a couple days of stubble. Dark curls poked out from beneath the Texas Rangers baseball cap that was molded to his head.
“Probably not, but I have a little brother you might know if you watch those cookin’ competitions on TV.”
She snapped her fingers and pointed in understanding. He mirrored her action.
“The Cowboy Chef,” they said in unison.
“He’s your brother?” Sarah enjoyed watching the Food Network with her girls; there was zero chance the competing chefs would take their clothes off or use filthy language on camera, so it was something they could do together.
“Hunt’s my twin actually.” The guy shifted the bulky box he was holding to one hand and extended the other. “Cullen Temple.” He offered his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Cullen Temple. I’m Sarah Eason.” She slipped her palm into his grip. It was warm and smooth so she felt certain he didn’t cut down trees for a living, despite the plaid lumberjack shirt he sported on an afternoon in May.
“Did I hear an offer of help?” she reminded him.
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“I called to get directions to the office of admissions this morning and I believe a crabby old lady gave me the wrong room number.”
Cullen leaned his face toward the ceiling and laughed out loud, displaying white, even teeth that had probably been wrangled into braces during his teen years. After a moment of enjoying her accusation he shook his head, his eyes filled with amused compassion for her experience.
“Sounds as if you’ve had your first encounter with Miss Nancy Norment, lovingly known as the University Torment. Her job for more than fifty years has been to scare off fainthearted freshmen before they waste their parents’ tuition money.”
“Well, she deserves high marks for her efforts. If I wasn’t so determined to pick up registration forms today, I might have climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over my head after I spoke with her.”
“Oh, Miss Norment means well and she’s probably saved families millions over the course of her career. You’ll know her when you run across her.”
“Does she pull her hair into a bun and wear Granny Clampett boots?”
“In a new millennium sorta way. You’ll see,” he teased.
“If you’d be kind enough to point me in the right direction, I’ll take my chances.”
Cullen put two fingertips gently on Sarah’s shoulder and guided her toward the office that was less than three feet away.
“There’s no number on the door,” she insisted.
He pointed above the doorframe where a brass placard identified the Office of Admissions.
She closed her eyes and ducked her chin, hiding her face from the man who must believe she was an airhead.
“Another one of Miss Norment’s attempts to cull the weakest from the herd. She doesn’t bother to mention that there’s no room number, or that you have to search up high for the sign.”
“Thanks to you, her trick didn’t work today.”
He raised his wrist to check the time, and then glanced toward the door.
“It’s still early. Miss Nancy could scare off three or four more applicants before the office closes at six.”
Sarah’s eyes followed his gaze.
“You don’t think she’s still in there, do you? It’s been almost eight hours since I spoke to her.”
“She works a split shift. For years she’s had an apartment over in the village section of the campus where she also acts as a dorm adviser.”
“My goodness. She’s either very committed to the university or has no life at all.”
“A little of both. She’s as much a part of this university as the bell tower. Miss Nancy is feared and revered by one and all.”
“You have me intrigued and scared in equal parts. Maybe I should return on her day off.”
“Nonsense. There’s no time like the present.” He reached for the door, pulled it wide and swept his palm outward for her to take the lead. As she stepped across the threshold she heard him call into the office. “Miss Nancy, take care of Sarah for me, will ya? She’s a friend of mine.”
Sarah glanced behind her to see Cullen Temple smile and wave just as the door slid closed between them.
“That Temple boy has been a thorn in my side for more years than I care to count. If you’re a friend of his, then you’re either a double dose of trouble or a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”
Facing the interior of the office and the source of the comment, Sarah came eyeball to eyeball with a spiky-haired senior citizen in a scrubs top, camo pants and Chuck Taylor All Stars.
“You must be Miss Nancy Norment,” Sarah said in her most charming tone.
“And you must be somebody’s mama,” the University Torment snapped. “‘Cause you’re certainly no spring chicken.”
Knowing her fortieth birthday was just around the corner, Sarah couldn’t disagree. Maybe she should have gone back to bed, after all.
CHAPTER TWO (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
THE AUBURN-HAIRED beauty was sitting alone in the student center with her back to the wall and her face just a few inches above the paperwork spread across the table. Over the years Cullen had come to recognize that posture as the sign of someone who expected they wouldn’t fit in, who believed they didn’t belong.
He wondered why on earth the lovely woman he’d met earlier in the administration building might be insecure. But then sending a child off to college could be a very unsettling period of life. Though they’d only spoken for a few minutes, Cullen had learned that her name was Sarah and she had daughters.
She’d seemed too bright to fall into the helicopter-parent trap, always hovering overhead and ready to swoop down and save the day. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time a smart adult did all the paperwork to ensure their completely capable kid had no excuse for not showing up on the first day of class.
As Cullen passed through the beverage line he was jostled intentionally by several upper-classmen who smiled and greeted him. Those with unfamiliar faces ignored Cullen, leaving him to presume they were freshmen.
The kids who attended the summer semester were made up of two groups: those who were getting ahead and those who were catching up. As he moved toward the woman alone at her table he wondered whether her daughter would be at the top or the bottom of the freshman class.
“Forgive me for guessing instead of asking if you take your coffee black, but you seem more of a ‘decaf with cream and sugar’ lady to me,” Cullen explained as he placed two mugs of coffee on the table. The blue eyes that met his opened wide with surprise and then squinted in good-humored gratitude.
“Make that sugar substitute and you’re right on the money.” She swept an area clear of paperwork to give him room to share the table.
Cullen dumped the contents of the small sack he’d also been carrying into the empty spot. Servings of flavored creamer and packets of sweetener rolled and fluttered about.
“Take your pick. Yellow, pink or blue.”
“You’re not just a pretty face, no matter what Miss Norment says about you,” Sarah teased as she reached for a single serving container of French vanilla creamer.
“Miss Nancy calls me a number of things but I’d lay odds that pretty face isn’t on the list.”
“She did mutter something about you being the dullest knife in the butcher block.”
“That sounds about right.” He tore open three packets of brown sugar and dumped the crystals into his mug. “She’s never taken much of a shine to me, even though I’m in there several times a week to see the dean.”
“You get called in to see the dean that frequently, huh?”
“Occasionally he calls me, but just as often it’s the other way around. We play racquetball, then grab some lunch.”
“That’s a novel way to keep an eye on your child’s progress at school.” She bobbed her head as if she approved.
“My child?”
“Sorry, I meant your son or daughter. I forget that young people want to be considered adults, not children. My Carrie certainly does.”
“I don’t have any children.” He held up his hand to show her that there was no wedding ring on his finger, not that the age-old symbol of commitment meant much to some people these days. “Not even married.”
Cullen noted that her ring finger was bare but she fiddled with a gold band on her right thumb.
“So you hang around here because...” She waited for him to finish. Surely the lady didn’t believe he was trolling for dates among the students?
“I hang around here because I’m getting an education.” She continued to stare so he elaborated. “Actually, I’ve gotten several educations since I first enrolled right out of high school. I don’t have plans to leave anytime soon, even though Miss Nancy has tried to kick me out into the real world on more occasions than you can shake a stick at. My brothers call me a professional student, and at this point it’s useless for me to deny it.”
“So you’re a student and not a parent? That’s cool,” she said. Her smile and the tilt of her head said she was interested in his story.
“Finally!” He exaggerated the word. “Somebody who appreciates the idea that higher education isn’t just what kids do while they wait for the best job or the right mate to come along.”
“I’d enjoy hearing more, but I’ve got to finish completing these forms and get over to our apartment before the girls get home.”
“Do you need any help? I know my way around a class registration fairly well by now. What is your daughter interested in studying? The curriculum is a bit limited during the summer sessions.”
Sarah’s smile was back. She relaxed against the folding chair and dropped her pencil on the form.
“I suppose I had that coming.”
“What?” Cullen was confused.
“My oldest daughter is only thirteen and the primary subject that interests her is the ever threatening world of zombies and vampires.”
Embarrassment warmed Cullen’s neck. Assuming a woman was old enough to have a kid in college was up there with assuming a lady’s rounded figure meant she was pregnant.
“I’m sorry.” He struggled to apologize. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you were old. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being old, you’re just not that old.”
She held a palm outward to stop the flow of words.
“I’m not insulted. Really, I’m not. I made the same assumption about you. What do you say we call it even?”
“It’s a deal.” Cullen extended his hand and he was very grateful when she accepted his shake and his apology.
* * *
SARAH CAUGHT THE gleam in Cullen’s eye and the spark in his touch. For the first time in the three years since Joe’s death, physical contact with a man had made her insides quiver. She’d figured that magical sensation was gone forever.
“So, whose application are you filling out, if I may be bold enough to ask?” He tucked his chin to his chest in a gun-shy but teasing posture.
It’s for me,” Sarah answered softly, still afraid to admit it out loud.
“Beg pardon?”
“Me!” she insisted more boldly. “The application is for me.”
He stared at her with eyes the color of wet slate. The man was a ringer for that famous British soccer player who’d moved with his Spice Girl wife from London to Beverly Hills. Sarah’s seven-year-old could probably recite their names, but there was zero allowance for pop culture in a single mother’s life. Bearing the load alone was heavy, but not more than she could manage.
During the last moments of her husband’s battle with leukemia, she’d held Joe in her arms and encouraged him to let go of this life, promising him that their girls would be okay. And that was mostly true. Today Carrie, Meg and Hope had what they needed, they just didn’t have who they needed. And now Sarah was going to spend more hours away from them to finish the degree that had once meant so much to her. Some people would say her plan was selfish, but her employer had offered to pay the tuition—how could a widow turn that down?
“I’m going to complete my undergraduate.”
“That’s wonderful,” Cullen said encouragingly.
“Really? You don’t think I’m a bit...mature?”
He held his arms out in a “look at me” posture.
“Sarah, now that we’ve taken turns accusing each other of being over the hill, my guess is we’re probably about the same age. Ninety percent of the people on this campus expect that I’m a teacher because I’ve been studying here for so long. But trust me when I say I’m not the only individual over thirty—or even forty—who’s sitting on the observation side of the lectern. We actually have a sophomore in her seventies named Ruthie George. After Ruthie’s husband passed away, she decided to get her master’s.”
“Good for her,” Sarah said, voicing her approval over the older woman’s decision to keep moving forward with her life.
But Ruthie had probably shared many decades with her husband, while Sarah had been cheated of so many precious years. Life had short-changed her young family and her heart would forever bear a tender bruise from the loss.
Somehow life went on, the girls outgrew their shoes and Sarah outgrew her fears. She’d put one foot in front of the other and pressed ahead for the sake of her daughters. And if she wanted to advance any further with the law firm and get her paralegal licensing, she had to complete her education.
“I think I’d enjoy meeting Ruthie. She sounds like a role model I could use in my circle of friends right now.”
Sarah was grateful for her mother’s unfailing help with the girls, but Margaret Callaghan had never had professional ambitions, and she’d never worked outside their family home.
“Ruthie says that it’s her time to fly,” Cullen explained. “For fifty years she put her family before her education and now that she’s alone again, she’s going to do whatever it takes to fulfill the dream she put on hold the moment her first child was born.”
“Your friend and I have a lot in common, in spite of our thirty-year-age difference.”
“You’ve been a stay-at-home mom, too?”
“Only when the girls were little. As soon as my youngest was out of diapers I went to work with a law firm. But now, if I want to advance any further I have to get my paralegal certification. I can’t do that without an undergraduate degree, and since they’re willing to pay for it, here I am.”
There was a ruckus a few tables away as young people who were playing cards broke into laughter. Sarah supposed there had been a day when she’d been so carefree but it had been so long ago it was nothing more than a distant memory. Their smiling faces reminded her of her daughters and she glanced at the wall clock above the exit door.
“Let me get out of here so you can finish.” Cullen gathered up the bits of trash from their coffee and swept the table clean with a napkin. “I’m sorry I interrupted your efforts,” he apologized.
“I don’t mean to run you off, but I have to get this to your Miss Nancy before the office closes.”
“By next week she’ll be your Miss Nancy, too.”
“Oh, gosh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“There are probably a lot of things you haven’t thought of yet. When you want a class recommendation or even a cup of coffee with your new friend, Cullen Temple, just give me a holler.”
“Do I holler at any particular corner of the campus?”
“I can generally be found in the history department, Heath-Harwick Hall. But if you don’t spot me over there just leave a message with Miss Nancy.”
“And she’ll see that you get it?”
“Probably not, but it’s worth a try.”
Cullen tilted his handsome head in a gesture of respect, took his coffee mug and made his way toward the exit, stopping every few tables to speak to someone he knew. Sarah wouldn’t be hanging out in the student center often enough to have acquaintances on campus like Cullen did. But she had made one new friend—though if she didn’t finish the enrollment form soon she wouldn’t even get another chance to speak to him.
“My new friend, Cullen Temple,” she said only loud enough so that she could hear the words. “I like the way that sounds.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
CULLEN FIGURED A week of preparation for his first class was enough.
He’d figured wrong.
Standing before the small group in Blair’s lecture hall on Monday afternoon, he felt like a poor substitute for the professor the students had expected to hear. After he began to rush through the talking points, only one person bothered to make eye contact, and having that person’s blue eyes fixed on Cullen’s every move only made things more nerve-racking.
Twenty minutes short of the ninety-minute class he closed Blair’s carefully prepared notes and dismissed the group. He turned about-face as they hurried toward the exit as if their stand-in instructor might call them back for another hour of boredom on European civilization.
“The sign on the lecture hall door claims you’re Dr. Cullen Temple but you didn’t sound anything like the smooth talker I had coffee with last week.”
Cullen looked around to find Sarah Eason standing in front of him. She’d tried to be helpful by signaling him a couple of times during his lecture to slow his delivery down, without success.
“Was that awful, or what?” he asked, already well aware of the answer.
“I wouldn’t say awful. Awful is a dried-up, day-old hot dog. That was more of a cold, greasy onion ring. If you just warm it up there may still be potential.”
“I’m sorry you witnessed that debacle.” He slumped against the white board on the wall behind him. “I shouldn’t have agreed to take over this class. It’s one thing to be a guest lecturer on a subject of my own choosing and quite another to pick up where a tenured professor has left off.”
“So Dr. Mastal really was supposed to be teaching this class, as it says on the syllabus? I thought maybe I’d wandered into the wrong lecture hall, but when I saw it was you I decided to hang around. I’m only auditing this semester so it’s not as if anybody was expecting me.”
“I hope my performance tonight doesn’t stop you from sitting in on the class again. I’m really gonna have to cram so I can redeem myself on Wednesday. Otherwise, your husband’s going to complain that your time away from the family is being wasted.”
She took a seat in the front row, settled her notebook and purse on the adjacent chair and crossed one bare leg over the other beneath the full skirt of her faded yellow sundress.
“Come, sit,” she encouraged, probably in the same patient voice she used with her children.
He did as instructed, sitting two seats away with her things in between them.
“I’m a widow.” Her voice was soft but matter-of-fact.
Before he could stammer out condolences she reached across the vacant seat and placed a hand on his arm.
“Don’t say anything. It’s been three years and the girls and I are adjusting to our new normal.”
“How...” Cullen wanted to ask, not at all sure he should.
“Joe was diagnosed with leukemia right after we learned I was pregnant with our third daughter, Hope. He’d suspected something was terribly wrong for months but kept it to himself because he didn’t want to worry me. We were told from the start it was terminal but we’d have a few years. I don’t pretend it wasn’t devastating to our lives or that everybody’s fine now. We get through it one day at a time and treasure every blessing.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine losing a spouse. When I was in high school, both of my parents were killed in a private plane crash, so I understand a little of what your daughters are going through.”
“It’s tough for my girls. I try to meet all their emotional needs but nothing can take the place of a daddy, as you well know. And I’m sorry you had a tragic loss at such a young age.”
“Thank you.” Cullen released a sigh. He was a bonehead, making too much of one failed lecture when the woman beside him was struggling with problems that might eventually get better but would never completely go away. Something else he was well acquainted with.
After his parents’ deaths, he’d suffered terrifying anxiety attacks, and while they’d subsided years ago, the dread of their return never left him. He’d only ever told Blair and Alma, the woman who’d stepped in to care for the Temple brothers, of his fears.
Hoping to get them past these sad subjects, he said, “Do you have to rush home, or can I buy you a bite to eat? I’m suddenly starving and the grill in the student center makes great cheeseburgers. I’ll even spring for some onion rings so the evening won’t be a total loss.” He smiled to lift the mood.
“Could I get a rain check? Tonight I’m meeting my mother and the girls for pizza. It’s one of those family places where kids can stay busy with arcade games for hours. Mom gives them each a roll of quarters and then she’s free to sit and read her romance novel. That should keep everyone occupied for a while, but I should head over soon.”
“You say it’s a family place?”
“Yeah, it’s the one out on the loop, near the mall.”
“Oh, I know the one you’re taking about. They have a nice buffet. What could be better than all the pepperoni pizza you can eat?”
“Would you care to join us?”
He shook his head. He hadn’t meant to fish for an invitation. But Blair’s words about giving less attention to the people in books and more to the living had stuck in Cullen’s mind like bubble gum on hot pavement.
“Oh, I wouldn’t horn in on your family evening. Besides, how would your mother and girls react if a man you just met showed up to share the table?”
“It’s going to take them about thirty seconds to recognize your face and then they’ll be all up in your business asking questions about your famous twin.”
Cullen leaned away from the comment. “Hey, I wouldn’t exactly say Hunt’s famous, at least not for anything other than being my little brother. I will give him credit for being a great chef, though. And he still does some appearances on television when he’s not working with his fiancée over at Temple Territory.”
“Oh, that mansion in Kilgore that’s become a hotel? I hear it’s quite an historical landmark.”
“I can arrange for your daughters to get a tour of the estate if they’d be interested. Our grandfather built the place and it comes with lots of interesting stories and legends.”
“That’s a great idea for an outing this summer,” she agreed. “But please join us tonight. There’s probably a whole pepperoni pizza over there with your name on it.”
The mental picture of rising dough swimming in golden grease from cheese and sausage caused his mouth to water like Pavlov’s dog. He did an inward double take at his very predictable reaction. Maybe he was a natural for the study of human behavior, after all.
“Only if you’re sure nobody will object.”
“With five women at the table somebody is always bound to object. It just comes with the territory. So don’t take it personally, it’s a family female thing,” Sarah assured him.
A family female thing was uncharted water for Cullen. But how hard could it be to share a casual meal with three generations of women? He might even learn something from the experience if he carried some gestures of kindness to soothe the savage breast.
* * *
SARAH WASN’T NEARLY as confident as she tried to sound for Cullen’s sake. While she could trust her mother to be hospitable, the girls were another matter. Carrie was in the throes of a Goth stage and Meg was forever wrestling with some imagined worry. Hope lived in la-la land, inventing superhero memories of her daddy to replace the fragile flesh-and-blood truth.
Thank goodness Sarah had a thirty-minute head start before Cullen arrived at the pizza place. He’d said he had personal business to attend to and then he’d join them. She’d have to set the scene carefully, to say the least.
“What do you mean a friend from the university is meeting us for dinner?” Meg questioned. “Who is she and how well do you know her?”
“I was about to ask the same thing,” Sarah’s mother added.
“My friend is actually a guy and he’s teaching the European history class I’m auditing. He was going to eat dinner alone so I invited him to have pizza with us. You might even recognize him.”
“He’s not that old high school boyfriend of yours, is he? That Bobby Whatshisname?” asked her mother.
“Of course not.”
“Good. I was always suspicious of that kid.”
“Mom, Bobby got married right after we graduated, he was a torpedo man on a navy guided-missile destroyer and he has a Ph.D. in agricultural economics. I’d say he’s done pretty well for himself. You can let go of those qualms.”
“Well, I’ve read how women are hooking up with their old flames these days and I don’t want any surprises when this stranger shows up.”
“He’s nobody from my ancient past, but he does have a face you might have seen before.”
“Like on an FBI Most Wanted poster? What if he’s a bank robber or a mass murderer?” Meg chewed the tip of a plastic straw.
“Honey, this guy has spent his entire life in Kilgore, he’s well respected at the university and I’m pretty sure he’s been too busy studying and teaching to dispose of bodies.”
“So, is this the way college women behave? Will there be a different man in your life every week now?” Carrie’s snide question was inappropriate, but at least she was talking.
“No, dear,” Sarah said with restraint. At home she’d have lectured her daughter on being disrespectful, but tonight reassurance was more important than manners. “Cullen is the only person on campus who’s even spoken to me, if you don’t count the grouchy woman in the administration office.”
“Oh, Nancy Norment is still over there? So the University Torment is alive and well. She must be up into her eighties by now.”
“She might be too mean to die.”
“I’m glad to hear Miss Nancy is on the job. The town honored her years ago for her service to the community. You’d better pray she lives twenty more years so she’ll be there when your girls go to college.”
“Right now I’m praying that I can stick around for two years to finish my degree, but I’ll add Miss Nancy’s continued health to the bottom of my lengthy prayer list.”
“Don’t look now, but a suspicious man just spotted us and he’s walking this way.” Meg’s words were muffled behind her hand.
Sarah watched Cullen approach. He seemed much more relaxed than he had in the lecture hall. In one hand he clutched a bunch of flowers and with the other he gripped the handles of an oversize canvas bag stamped with a recycle emblem. When he stopped at the head of their table, Sarah stood to make introductions.
“Cullen Temple, this is my mother, Margaret Callaghan, and my daughters Carrie, Meg and Hope. Ladies, this is my instructor, Dr. Cullen Temple.”
There was silence except for a nod from her mother.
Sarah stamped her foot, a not-so-covert sign for her daughters to use their manners.
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” the girls responded politely as they’d been instructed all their lives.
“I appreciate your mama inviting me. I love a pizza buffet.”
* * *
NOT FEELING OVERLY WELCOME, Cullen decided to go straight for the peace offerings, hoping the atmosphere would warm up. He set the canvas bag on the tabletop and handed the flowers to Sarah’s mother.
“These are for you, Mrs. Callaghan. My mama taught me that you never go to a woman’s dinner table empty-handed, not the first visit, anyway.”
Next he made a production of poking around in the bag, which seemed to get the girls’ attention.
“I had to shop fast and I only have brothers so I hope I did okay,” he apologized as he withdrew a trinket for each of the sisters. For Carrie, whose hair was...purple...there was a paperback volume of Vampire Academy, the first in a popular young adult series. He presented Meg with a silver-tone bracelet that had a dangling smiley face charm inscribed Don’t Worry, Be Happy. And for Sara’s youngest, who was missing her front two teeth, there was a fluffy stuffed bear holding a velvet heart that read Faith, Hope and Love.
“I think this was meant just for you,” Cullen said as he handed over the teddy.
“What did you bring for Mommy?” Hope asked.
“The best gift of all,” he answered as he rubbed his palms together.
He reached to the bottom of the bag and then pulled out a thick, gray volume. Black letters on the spine read European Civilization. It was the very expensive textbook for his class.
“I can’t accept this, Cullen.”
He waved away her concern. “Dr. Mastal kept a stack in his office for loaners. When the semester is over you can return it and I’ll use it to bless another unsuspecting victim.”
“Hey!” Carrie had glanced up from her novel and was studying Cullen through squinted eyes, her index finger pointing a silent accusation his way.
Margaret nodded her head. “I was just about to say the same thing.”
“What?” Meg slid the bracelet over her hand and rejoined the conversation.
“You look just like the Cowboy Chef!” Carrie insisted.
“Actually, I’m the older twin, so he looks just like me.”
“You’re brothers with the cutest chef on food television? Awesome sauce!” Meg exclaimed.
“Why don’t we go fill our plates and you can hear all about it while we eat,” Margaret suggested. She took charge and herded the girls toward the buffet line.
“Thank you for everything, Cullen. You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble and expense.”
“It’s only one evening of my life and it’s the least I can do for your family. If I never meet your girls again they’ll have a personal reminder of a Temple brother—even if they forget about me and only remember the Cowboy Chef.”
He smiled, not the least bit bothered by the shadow his twin cast.
“Shall we?” Sarah suggested.
“After you.” Cullen stepped aside to let her take the lead.
He smiled as he watched the family of women load their plates, but inwardly he shuddered over what the atmosphere must be like in their home. The noise, the bickering, the demands, the drama—all the stuff he did his best to keep out of his life. Anything short of peace and quiet might tempt his old nemesis, anxiety.
What he’d said to Sarah was true. Giving up one evening was an easy gesture to make, especially for one of his students. But a steady diet of this bunch would not simply have him under the covers, it would have him under the bed!
CHAPTER FOUR (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
TWENTY STEPS OUTSIDE the pizza parlor door, Hope dug her heels into the sidewalk and pointed toward a maintenance alley beside the restaurant.
“Mama, look!” she insisted.
All heads turned at the urgency in her voice. By the entrance to the alley, a small life shivered, barely noticeable, cowering in the shadow of a Dumpster.
“It’s a puppy!” Hope squealed, and tugged harder on Sarah’s hand in an effort to get closer. “Let’s go get it!”
“Wait!” Meg cried even louder. “It could be rabid.”
“Its ears are too short to be a rabbit.”
“Rabid, not rabbit, you stupid baby,” Meg chided.
“Mona Margaret, what have I told you about name-calling?”
“That it’s ugly, inappropriate and indicates a weak vocabulary,” she said, repeating what Sarah said to her daughters at least twice a day. “But she is a stupid baby sometimes.” Meg always had to have the last word.
The whimper of the animal echoed in the alley.
“Do something!” Hope pleaded.
“Stay put and let me check things out,” Cullen instructed, handing his to-go box of pizza to Sarah.
He made his way cautiously, stopped several feet away and knelt to the dirty concrete. The shaggy thing stood, unfolding long wobbly legs. Cullen rested one hand atop his knee, palm down to allow the puppy to make the first move. Even from a distance Sarah could hear soft murmuring as Cullen appealed to the frightened pup. It slowly crept forward, sniffed cautiously, then retreated behind the safety of the Dumpster.
“Don’t leave him there!” Hope broke the quiet that had enveloped their group, startling everyone.
“Will you shush, please?” Carrie reprimanded her sister, who complied for once in her life.
Cullen crept down the alley and slipped out of sight in the direction the dog had gone. Long moments later he returned, a wad of blond fur enfolded in his arms.
“I thought his mama might be in there, too, but he was all alone,” Cullen explained, keeping his voice low as he got closer.
Sarah kept a tight grip on her youngest daughter, certain Hope’s excitement would spook the already-frightened animal. Cullen moved underneath the glare of the parking lot lights and they could see the puppy, long legs dangling, curly fur in need of a bath, its muzzle shyly tucked beneath Cullen’s elbow.
“Poor thing. He must be lost from his family.” Hope reached up to softly stroke an ear that flopped over Cullen’s arm.
“It’s more likely he was left here on purpose in the hope that someone leaving the restaurant would give him a home,” Sarah’s mother spoke up.
“That’s us!”
“Honey, we can’t take in a dog. We don’t have the room or the money for a pet.” Sarah had to be reasonable, though her heart broke for the animal.
“Grandma?” Hope moved anxious eyes to her grandmother. “Can’t you take it home for us? I’ll give you my allowance to buy it food.”
“Baby girl, we can’t have pets because of your grandfather’s allergies. You wouldn’t want your grandpa to be sneezy and itchy, would you?”
“I guess not.” Her eyes were downcast with sadness. “But if we leave it here it might starve to death.”
“Or get eaten by wolves,” Meg added, to her little sister’s horror.
“Yeah, packs of wolves in mall parking lots are really a hazard in Longview this year,” Carrie deadpanned.
“I suppose I could take it home with me.” Cullen’s suggestion was halfhearted at best.
“For reals?” Hope’s face lit with gratitude as her frown flipped into a smile, exposing the gap in her teeth. She tugged her hand free from Sarah’s and launched her body at Cullen, wrapping her arms fiercely around his legs. “My hero,” she mumbled against his jeans.
Sarah’s eyes sought Cullen’s and she mouthed, “You don’t have to do this.” He gave an affirmative nod and jostled the puppy’s face free so they could get a glimpse of the long snout and huge eyes.
“Judging by the size of his feet, this boy’s gonna require a big house and a fenced yard. I have the room and I’m home a lot so I can’t imagine why not.”
“Can we come visit him whenever we want?”
“Hope, it’s not polite to invite yourself over to somebody else’s home,” Sarah corrected her child.
By now Cullen was probably wishing he’d had his dinner on a TV tray, alone. All three of her girls had become outspoken and unpredictable, and it seemed she was forever apologizing for their words or behaviors.
“Cullen, please excuse my daughter for being so forward. Just because we enjoy having Hope around, she assumes everybody else will instantly welcome her, too.”
“I don’t enjoy her, she’s always poking through my side of the bedroom,” Meg chimed in.
“Yeah, she’s a pest, always into our stuff,” Carrie added. “So if you’ve got a big house, you can take Hope home with you, too.”
“That’s enough, ladies,” Sarah admonished, cringing inwardly that a respected new friend was being put in such an awkward position.
“Actually, you’re all welcome to come see the puppy once I get him settled. I haven’t had a dog since I was a kid and I’m going to need lots of help. Especially teaching him to swim so he’ll be safe around my pool.”
“You have a pool?” Carrie brightened.
For months she’d been complaining that their apartments didn’t offer a swimming pool for the residents. The complex was small and old but it was in a safe neighborhood near the girls’ schools and that was more important to Sarah. It was bad enough that they’d had to sell their family home. Sarah wasn’t going to make them move away from their friends, as well.
“Yes, I do. It’s nothing fancy but it keeps me cool in the summertime.”
“Backyard pools can be dangerous. A person can drown in a thimble of water.”
“Safety is always a priority at my house, Meg. And I promise to teach the puppy to swim right away.”
“Okay, now that we have that all settled,” Sarah’s mother cut in, “I should be getting home to your father before it gets any later.”
“Thanks for everything, Mom.” Sarah leaned into her mother’s hug as best she could while still holding Cullen’s pizza box. “You’re still available to hang out with the girls on Wednesday evening?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Carrie huffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m too old for a babysitter.”
“Well, that’s good because babysitters expect to be paid and I only expect for you to let me win at Crazy Eights. At least occasionally,” Margaret teased.
She kissed each of the girls, handed their shopping bag full of Cullen’s thoughtful gifts over to Carrie, thanked their guest again for the flowers and then headed toward the practical minivan she kept just for transporting her three grandkids.
“Where are you parked, Cullen? We’ll follow you to your car so I can give you the pizza.”
“My Explorer is just over there, but how about if you take the pizza home with you instead? I’m not sure how safe it will be with a hungry puppy on the loose.”
“You should go straight to that pet shop down the street for a doggy seat-belt thingy,” Meg reminded him. “It’s not safe for him in your backseat otherwise. And you’ll want some food, and a collar, too.”
“Meg, lighten up on the lectures, please,” Sarah insisted.
“Actually, that’s an excellent suggestion. Are you ladies in a hurry or could you come with me to pick out a few things?”
Cheers erupted from the younger girls, and though Carrie didn’t officially agree, there was an expression of mild interest on her face.
“Are you sure?” Sarah asked. “Haven’t you had enough of my zoo crew for one evening?”
“Meg’s right, I should get some things for this little guy. We can’t take too long because they’ll be closing soon. I’d appreciate the help since I don’t have the first clue what to get.”
“It’s the least we can do.” Sarah swept her palm for him to lead the way. Hope bobbed up and down as she skipped beside Cullen across the parking spaces to a shiny, clean SUV that probably didn’t have a back seat filled with hair bows, pink sneakers, and empty Yoo-hoo bottles.
* * *
HALF AN HOUR and two hundred dollars later, Cullen was on his way home. The puppy they’d dubbed Rocket was shivering quietly in the backseat, held securely by his pet restraint. Who knew a dog wasn’t supposed to ride with its head hanging out the car window anymore? But according to Meg, Sarah’s little worrywart, allowing pets to do that was dangerous and really should be illegal.
Cullen yawned as he pulled onto the highway for the twenty-minute ride home. It was only a little after 9:00 p.m., but he was pooped from a roller-coaster ride of a Monday. Sleep had eluded him the night before and he’d been anxious all day over his first lecture of Blair’s class.
And rightly so. It had been a disaster.
“Rocket, a very smart man named Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Tomorrow you’ve gotta help me figure out another way to approach Western Civilization. The mere fact that you’re in my car at this moment is proof that I’m capable of change when the situation demands it, so I’m bound to be able to make adjustments.”
Now that he considered it, the past few hours had called for a lot of flexibility and he’d done fairly well. He’d left the classroom without obsessing too much over his dreadful performance, made a whirlwind shopping effort for virtual strangers, bought dinner for a gaggle of girls and rescued a helpless critter from a pack of wolves. Well, maybe that last part was a bit extreme, but if Meg was willing to give him props he’d take them. Not that there had been any danger of him leaving the puppy on the street. He’d taken one look at the orphaned dog and sworn he would give him a secure, loving home.
“Rocket, my little buddy.” Cullen glanced at the weary, wide eyes behind him. “We’ve both had a tough break, losing our parents when we needed them most. Only a couple of people know this about me and now I’m going to tell you and trust that you’ll keep this between us.”
The dog yawned and settled his belly on the leather seat, but kept his eyes trained toward his new master.
“So, here’s the deal. I was diagnosed over a dozen years ago with post traumatic stress disorder. Dr. Dermer said my pounding heart and sweaty, shaky hands were symptoms of anxiety. I just called it the creeps when the attacks came on during my junior year in high school. I hated the hours I spent with my head under the covers praying for that sensation to go away. Whatever you label the condition, it was awful and I never want to revisit those days. So now I do everything I can to avoid getting overstressed. You’ll like our home. It’s a quiet oasis in a noisy world and I’ll do my best to make it a sanctuary for you, too.”
As soon as they got to the house Cullen began to make good on his promise. As he ran a warm, soapy bath for Rocket, he tuned the radio on the bathroom counter to a classic country channel. While the pup soaked and enjoyed the gentle massage, Cullen hummed along with the soft music he found so much more appealing than the hard rock his friends had preferred growing up. His daddy said it was “racket” and Cullen couldn’t disagree. In his college years he’d stayed away from the loud fraternity parties that were sure to set off his anxiety. So he kept the music low and comforting for himself as well as Rocket.
An hour later the puppy was towel-dried and fed and lay snuggled beside Cullen in the big sleigh bed. His nose was poked into his master’s armpit, as if burying his head and hiding his face would stave off night terrors. It was an attempt at self-soothing that Cullen knew well from many, many efforts of his own to sleep away the pain of loss.
Deep into the night, he suddenly woke to find Rocket kicking and whining in a way Alma would call “chasing rabbits.” As the thrashing became more frantic, the little dog’s cries grew into howls of despair that tore at Cullen’s heart.
“It’s okay, buddy.” He gave Rocket a little shake to ease him from his dreams.
Huge eyes stared upward, pleading for mercy from the man who was still a stranger. The pup shivered with fear of an unfamiliar place.
“I understand,” Cullen crooned as he stroked the long nose and silky ears. He scooped the animal close to his heart, kissed the head that smelled of shampoo and kibbles and wondered why it had never occurred to him that calming the worries of another creature could be so comforting.
He continued to stroke the puppy and the tremors through Rocket’s body grew less frequent and his breathing grew deeper. Cullen slipped his hand around the thin body and cupped the soft tummy.
“I’m gonna fatten you up so you forget what hunger feels like and love you so much that all you remember is being wanted. You won’t suffer through another night alone, not if I have anything to say about it.”
Cullen pulled the blanket close to warm his body and the puppy closer to warm his soul.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
“I REALLY APPRECIATE your time, Dr. Temple,” an attractive young woman thanked Cullen for answering her questions after class.
“It’s not necessary for you to be formal, Trish,” he insisted. “Call me Cullen.”
Sarah waited patiently off to the side and listened while several students engaged their handsome instructor with questions. Everything about this evening’s class had been so different from the first that Sarah had been compelled to stick around and compliment him. Evidently, others felt the same since a line had formed as soon as the lesson concluded.
“Well, I see you brought your ‘A’ game tonight,” Sarah teased once everyone else had gone.
“Nobody’s more amazed than I am,” Cullen admitted.
“How did you prepare differently this time?”
“I simply followed my mentor’s orders and applied the process that’s always worked for me.”
A relieved grin that would melt any woman’s heart spread across Cullen’s face. It was such an endearing sight, especially after the worry in his gray eyes a few days before.
“Blair had suggested that I study his notes and then reorganize them into my own words. I didn’t have the sense to heed his advice for the first class, and you saw how well that worked out for me. So this time around, instead of teaching directly from what he’d written, I reviewed the chapters and then, based on what I’d learned about the subject myself years ago, I just shot from the hip. When you’re dealing with ancient civilizations, there’s a pretty fair chance nothing’s changed much since you last checked the facts.”
“Well, you certainly bring the time period to life. I was watching the faces of your students and they were completely engaged.”
“When you have fellas like Charlemagne and Genghis Khan to work with you don’t have to dig too deep to find a story that will keep the listeners tuned in for ninety minutes.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Cullen. You’re vying with the sci-fi network, the Kardashians and Grand Theft Auto for the attention of these young people, and I’d say holding their focus for an hour and a half is quite an accomplishment. You’re a natural.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am, ’tweren’t nothin’.” He lowered his chin in a show of false shyness. “You’ll blow an old country boy’s head up so big his Stetson won’t fit.”
“Just accept the compliment,” Sarah insisted as she gave Cullen’s bicep a light punch. Her knuckles connected with solid arm beneath the long sleeve he seemed to favor, even in the heat. The lightweight flannel obviously shielded a muscular build, and for some reason, Sarah was glad he wore modest clothing around all these young women. Whether or not it was by design, it was probably a smart defense against inappropriate attention.
“The bottom line, Dr. Temple, is you gave an excellent lecture and I can’t wait to dive into the Crusades with you this semester.”
“You, my dear, are a rare find indeed. Any student excited to spend her summer recalling bloody battles is a woman after my own heart.”
“Aw, shucks, sir,” she mirrored his silly comment and drawl. “You’ll turn a simple girl’s head with such purty words.”
“How about if you two take your mutual admiration society meeting outside so Merle can mop this floor?” a voice growled from the doorway.
“Evening, Miss Nancy!” Cullen called as he gathered his notes and shoved them into a well-worn backpack. “Sorry to hold up the operation. We’ll be out of here in three minutes.”
“She’s still here?” Sarah asked. “Is she the night watchman, too?”
Cullen chuckled. “She and Merle have been keeping company for years, but he can’t join her for wine coolers and Skip-Bo until the floors are dry.”
Sarah shifted the carryall that contained the loaner textbook and her legal pads and walked alongside Cullen to the exit of the lecture room.
“How are things going with the puppy?”
“Rocket has been a revelation.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I expected he’d be a lot of trouble and under my feet constantly. Which he is, but in a nice way. I figured Alma would be disgusted to find rawhide chews and dog hair in my bed, but she just shook out my sheets and brushed off my favorite quilt without a complaint and sidestepped the water bowl on the bathroom floor.”
“Alma?” Sarah repeated the name carefully to cover the sinking in her spirit. Some woman was hanging out in her new friend’s bedroom and somehow that seemed wrong. “She shakes out your sheets, huh?”
Well, what do you expect at his age, Sarah Elizabeth, that he’s still an altar boy?
“Sorry. That didn’t exactly sound complimentary to the most important woman in my life, did it?”
“You’re a grown man and how you categorize a consenting relationship is your private business.”
“You’re right, Sarah. And after all these years I really should call her mi amorcito—Lord knows she’s earned the title of sweetheart.”
“Wait.” She halted their forward motion. “Who is this Alma to you?”
“She’s the woman who raised me and my three brothers when our parents were killed. She and her husband, Felix, stepped in and became our surrogate parents. They kept us on the straight and narrow to make sure none of us ended up in prison like our grandfather.”
“Your grandfather served time in prison?”
“That’s East Texas lore for another evening.” Cullen waved away the question. “I’ll be glad to share it with you over a glass of wine one night but Pap Temple’s story is old news that I’d rather not get into right this minute.”
The knowledge that Cullen’s grandfather had gone to prison took Sarah by surprise. She ought to do a little research or talk to her parents. Surely they’d remember the story of a man named Pap Temple if it was a part of the local history, as Cullen claimed.
“So, you were updating me on Rocket.”
Cullen’s exhausted smile said this was a more pleasant subject.
“The past two nights have been a challenge, but we’re managing. The poor little fella whimpers and kicks in his dreams, but I can survive a few weeks without REM sleep if lullabies and snuggles help him adjust. How could any man resist such a call to adventure.”
And how could any woman resist such a heartwarming image?
* * *
AS HE PUSHED the heavy security door open and held it wide for Sarah to exit the building, Cullen could only imagine what terrors might invade a puppy’s subconscious mind. But he had a sneaking suspicion they were akin to his own fears and hurts that had kept him from resting as a teen. Spooning Rocket close, rubbing his tummy and murmuring soft sounds every couple of hours seemed to give them both peace, and that was a fair trade for the whole pot of coffee he’d have to consume in the morning to keep himself awake.
“It was so kind of you to rescue that puppy, Cullen. You’re Hope’s new hero.”
“Speaking of your girls, how about bringing them to my house for a barbecue this weekend?”
A crease formed between her auburn brows as she answered. “You’re so kind to offer, and I’m tempted to accept. I’m just not sure that’s such a great idea.”
“What concerns you about a picnic?”
“How much time do you have?”
“As much as you want, my friend.”
They stepped out into the muggy evening that was still lit by the waning summer sun. He sunk down on a nearby marble bench and Sarah joined him.
Her blue eyes searched his face, maybe for a clue about how much to say.
“So talk,” he encouraged. The woman carried a lot on her slender shoulders and it didn’t come as a surprise that she had to consider emotional burdens carefully.
“Each of my girls is a needy mess.”
“Aren’t all kids?”
“By nature, yes. But losing their daddy and then our home—”
“Wait.” He placed a hand on the small of her back, the touch intended to be comforting and nothing more. “You lost your home?”
She nodded, a sad smile curving her lips.
“There was a mountain of medical bills and most of Joe’s life insurance went to cover that obligation. There was no chance I could manage the mortgage on my salary, so we sold the house and moved into an apartment. We’re comfortable, but there’s nothing cushy about our lifestyle.”
“From what I’ve observed, your girls are part of a loving family and that’s more valuable than stuff.”
“Thirty-somethings understand that, but try to explain to a tween that not owning an iPad builds character.”
“So how does that translate into a barbecue at Chez Cullen being a bad idea?”
“Oh, it’s a wonderful idea! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”
“Then what?”
“That’s the question that worries me.”
Cullen scrunched his brow and exaggerated a squint to show his confusion.
“If we come for an afternoon, then what? My girls have all learned to compartmentalize their emotions, but it’s not been easy. One afternoon of fun at a male friend’s house could create expectations on their part. It’s not fair to ask you to deal with the fallout.”
He moved his hand from her back to her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“How about if you let me handle the fallout, as you call it. Growing up in a house with four rambunctious boys has made me fairly resilient.”
“I’m just warning you, young females are different animals. They think and react in unexpected ways.”
“So having three of them is sorta like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates?”
“Exactly,” she agreed.
“You never know what you’re gonna get,” they replied in unison.
He held up a three-fingered Boy Scout salute.
“I solemnly pledge to accept all responsibility for the outcome of a pool party.”
“That’s a grave oath you just made, Dr. Temple. When you say your prayers tonight you’d best ask for a special layer of protection for your life and property.”
“Come on,” he chided. “How much damage can little girls do?”
“And as long as you’re already on your knees, ask for protection for your heart, too.”
She was trying to make light of the situation, but she’d done her best to spell it out and give him fair warning. Well, he’d keep that in mind.
But for now he and Rocket had a barbecue to plan. He needed to test the waters, find out if he would sink or swim in a chaotic environment, even if he found he was already in over his head.
CHAPTER SIX (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
“WHAT ON EARTH was I thinking, Rocket?”
Cullen moved from room to room in a last-ditch effort to tidy up his cluttered home before his company arrived.
His brothers had been teasing him for years that his house looked like one of those ancient bookmobiles had pulled through the front door and exploded. Volumes of every conceivable genre and subject were crammed into shelves and stacked in corners. Each room in the rambling, ranch-style home smelled of printed words bound by glue, cardboard and stitching. The aroma was reverent to Cullen, something most people, and certainly his obnoxious brothers, would never understand.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Hunt had displayed a love of cooking at an early age and the kitchen had long been his sanctuary. Their older brother Joiner loved all things equine. The inside of a barn, smelling of horse sweat and leather tack, was his place of solace. And then there was the oldest, McCarthy, a natural bean counter whose blood pressure was kept steady by frequent immersion in spreadsheets and 401(k) statements.
As much grief as they’d always given Cullen over his obsession for education, the four Temple brothers shared a bond when it came to having a passion. And each man’s passion seemed to come from deep inside and wouldn’t be snuffed out or denied.
Alma said their parents had been no different, and from Cullen’s earliest memories, he had to agree. Their father was a surgeon who’d given countless hours to the hospital and the community it served. And their mother had had an incredible green thumb and knack for growing things. The constant cycle of fertilizing, planting, nurturing, weeding, pruning and picking had been what she’d adored, second only to the five men in her family.
Yep, no doubt about it, they were all destined to obsess, just as their patriarch had once done over striking it rich in the East Texas oil fields. That thought reminded Cullen that he’d offered to tell Sarah about his grandfather. Maybe he’d get that chore over with today since it was best to let the old skeleton out of the closet early and be finished with him. Even so, being endowed with the Temple name in these parts would never completely allow Cullen to bury Pap’s notorious legacy.
“Anybody home?”
“In here,” Cullen shouted. Rocket growled, a sound too small and endearing to be threatening.
“Hey, little brother!” Joiner’s voice boomed from the front entryway.
“I’ve gotta start locking my door,” Cullen called from the den that served as his study.
“Yeah, as if anybody with a lick of sense would want to steal a stack of old books.”
Rocket scurried to investigate the newcomer, skidding to a stop as he was confronted by cowboy boots and jean-clad legs.
“Whoa! Who’s this?”
Joiner squatted, held open his arms and Rocket went into the embrace as if his long-lost friend had come home from the war.
“As I said, I should start locking the door because it seems my new watchdog isn’t gonna keep out the riffraff.”
“Since when do you have an animal in your home?” Joiner gathered Rocket’s long limbs and stood, reminding Cullen of a cowpoke holding a rescued calf.
“Since that one wandered out from behind a Dumpster at the pizza restaurant begging for a handout.”
“You took in a stray?” Joiner seemed incredulous, and rightly so. Cullen had always been too focused on his studies to make room for an animal in his life, much less in his home.
“How could I resist that face?”
“Looks like your boy’s got a lot of golden retriever in him,” Joiner noted.
“That’s what the vet said when I took Rocket in to get him checked out and vaccinated.”
Cullen watched his brother tenderly cradle the pup, stroking his blond coat and floppy ears while Rocket poked his curious nose at Joiner’s shirt pocket.
“Can he have a peppermint?” Joiner fished out a striped candy.
“Just this once. But if he throws it up, the mess belongs to you.”
Joiner settled Rocket on the rug, tore open the small cellophane packet and offered the treat. The puppy sniffed it and turned uncertain eyes to his master. Warmth shot through Cullen’s heart at Rocket’s request for approval.
“It’s okay, you can have it,” Cullen assured his new buddy.
Rocket scooped up the candy with a swipe of his pink tongue and crunched it between puppy teeth as sharp as carpet tacks.
“How many years have you been carrying Life Savers in your pocket, Joiner?”
“As many as I’ve been coaxing and training horses. They all seem to cooperate a little better if you sweeten the deal.” He stood but kept an eye on Rocket as the puppy enjoyed the treat.
“Think that principle applies to girls and cookies?” Cullen had purchased an assortment of baked goods, hoping to win favor with Carrie, Meg and Hope. And maybe Sarah.
“Sugar and females have gone hand in hand since the Garden of Eden. I personally think the forbidden fruit was a MoonPie instead of an apple.. I can’t imagine why it would be any different today,” Joiner replied. “Why do you ask?”
“I have company on the way.”
“If you already have plans, why’d you ask me to come by?” Joiner slanted a questioning glance at Cullen.
“I figured it might be nice to invite my brother over for a swim and some lunch.” Cullen tried to sound offended by Joiner’s suspicion.
“My, aren’t you domestic all of the sudden.”
“A new friend from the university is bringing her three daughters over to use the pool.”
Joiner’s head snapped back, his eyes wide.
“A new friend? Anybody I might recognize?”
“It’s always a possibility in a town this small. Her name’s Sarah Eason.”
“Joe Eason’s widow?” Joiner asked, his brows drawing together.
“You knew her husband?”
“I met him at the gym years ago and we played racquetball a handful of times before he got too sick. Nice guy. I’d heard he passed away a while ago.” Joiner gave a sad shake of his head.
“Did you ever meet his wife?”
“No, never did. I was aware that Joe was married with kids, but guys don’t do much more than point and grunt within the perimeter of the gym. Where’d you meet her?”
“Sarah’s auditing the lecture I took over for Blair this semester.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that? McCarthy mentioned you were teaching a class of your own now. Aren’t you worried responsibility might cramp your style?”
“That’s the pot callin’ the kettle black,” Cullen scoffed. “You’ve never been responsible for more than shoveling horse manure in your life.”
“Hey, that’s not true. Ninety percent of my time off the polo field is spent fundraising.”
“How’s that working out for your own checkbook?”
Joiner held a palm outward. “Enough. Nobody has to remind me how much time and money I’ve exhausted in the past ten years when I could hardly afford either. Now I’ve gotta figure out how to invest what I’ve got left once the ponies are sold.”
“You gonna sell Pistol, too?”
“No way. He’s the smartest investment I ever made. I’m going to stud him out for as long as he’s interested in fraternizing with Texas fillies.”
“How long is Render willing to put you up at his ranch?”
“He’s agreed to trade his foreman’s cabin for my services until I can find the right place or he hires a permanent manager.”
Car doors slammed and high-pitched female voices announced the arrival of Cullen’s guests. Rocket’s head angled toward the sounds. He woofed softly and ambled down the hallway to the front entrance.
“Sounds like your date’s here.”
“Cut it out. Alma’s coming over too so it’s strictly on the up and up.” Cullen dismissed his brother’s insinuation. “The lady could use a friend and I happened to be in the right place at the right moment. And between you and me, Blair suggested I try something completely different, stretch my legs a bit. So I’ve enrolled in a psychology class for the fall semester. I figured observing some kids who have lost their daddy, kind of like we did, might be helpful to me in the class.”
“Yeah, well, just watch your step or you’ll have a ready-made family on your hands.”
A ready-made family...
A knock on the door resounded in the entry hall. Rocket began to bark in earnest and giggly girls squealed in response on the front porch. The tranquility of his home was about to be shattered, for the day at least, and he had no one to blame but himself.
A ready-made family?
Perish the thought!
“Want me to get it?” Joiner said, offering to greet Cullen’s guests.
“I’ll go. But you can keep an eye on Rocket for a minute.” He took a leash from the peg by the door, attached it to the puppy’s collar and handed it to Joiner.
The two moved toward the kitchen to let Cullen pass and he inhaled a final deep breath of calm air before letting hurricane Eason into the house.
“Greetings!” He pulled the door wide, expecting Sarah’s girls to be lined up like little soldiers waiting for instructions. Boy, howdy, had he been wrong. The force of being crowded and squeezed by three pairs of arms as young bodies crushed against his midsection nearly knocked that final calm breath out of him.
“Ladies, we agreed to show some restraint today, remember?” Sarah coached her exuberant brood. “Sorry, Cullen, but Meg and Hope have been watching the clock since their Cheerios went mushy at 6:00 a.m. If they’d had their way we’d have been here hours ago.”
“Yeah,” Hope mumbled, her face pressed against Cullen’s pant leg. “Even Carrie got out of bed without griping for a change.”
At the mention of her name, Carrie dropped away from the group hug, a mask of indifference replacing the smile she’d been wearing. “MYOB, Runtzilla. It’s not exactly front page news when a person gets up early on a Saturday morning.”
“By early she means ten o’clock,” Meg explained with an unsympathetic roll of her eyes—eyes the same lovely color as her mother’s. “I wanted to come sooner to enjoy the clear weather. It’s a documented fact that spending time in the sunshine is the only reliable way to create vitamin D in your skin, and studies show the lack of it can lead to schizophrenia.”
“Well, then, Dr. Jekyll, you’d better get outside quick before Miss Hyde makes her first appearance of the day,” Carrie snapped.
“Where’s Rocket?” Hope looked past Cullen and into the house.
“He’s inside with my brother.”
“The Cowboy Chef’s here?” Carrie’s question was almost breathless, her eyes all kinds of dreamy.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you but it’s my older brother Joiner. Hunt’s working today. His fiancée owns Temple Territory and they have their own pool event going on over there this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Carrie’s face fell. “I hadn’t heard he was engaged.”
“What did you expect, that he’d wait on you for ten more years?” Meg taunted.
“No, but I was at least hoping to see him while he was still available. The Cowboy Chef is a hottie patottie.”
“Hey! He’s my identical twin so I assume that makes me hot, too, huh?” Cullen held his arms wide, waiting for a compliment.
“I meant hot in a television sort of way. Your look is more...” Carrie paused, not wanting to dig the hole deeper.
“Rustic?”
“Exactly!”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Your word, not mine.”
“I wanna see Rocket!” Hope danced with excitement, the ruffles on her swimsuit cover-up jiggling to her imagined beat.
“Let him loose, Joiner!” Cullen called down the hallway.
Seconds later the golden-haired pup came flying through the doorway, skinny legs a flurry of speed, mouth wide in a doggy grin as he hit Hope with big front paws and knocked her to the ground.
“He remembers me!” she shouted, and then burst into shrieks of laughter, assuring Cullen she’d survived the impact. Meg and Carrie joined the calamity on the ground, rolling in the warm, summer grass, taking turns letting Rocket plant wet, joyful kisses on their faces.
Cullen watched, fascinated by the moment of sweet innocence and pure play, trying to remember a day when he’d been so young, so unafraid.
Trying to remember what life had felt like before PTSD.
Before he started cutting himself.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ue5eec0a3-a68c-56cf-906b-35d333e46ed9)
SARAH STRUGGLED TO concentrate on what Cullen was saying about his lecture plans for the coming week. Between watching her girls splashing in the pool and worrying whether she should be helping Alma and Joiner in the kitchen, she was far too distracted to dive into subjects of historical importance with Cullen.
What Sarah really wanted to do was dive into the cool depths, but her host seemed content to sit in the shade. So when Cullen and Rocket went inside for a pitcher of lemonade, she quickly slipped off her Bermuda shorts, perched near the Gunite steps and let her feet dangle in the blue, blue water.
“Get in with us, Mama,” Hope coaxed from the shallows, safe in her Pretty Princess swim vest.
“This is enough for now, maybe later.”
It didn’t seem appropriate to take off her T-shirt and get in when Cullen showed no interest, even with the girls taunting him. The puppy stayed hot on his master’s heels and was also quite content to stay clear of the water, his pink belly exposed as he stretched out, napping in the short grass.
“But we should have four people for games and races.”
“Will I do?”
Heads turned as Joiner stepped out onto the patio wearing surfer-style, knee-length trunks. The loud, floral print so popular in decades past was making a comeback, and on Joiner’s trim body Sarah could certainly see the appeal of the low-riding garment.
“You’re on my team!” Hope called.
“We should toss a coin to decide whose team he’s on,” Meg insisted.
“How about if we just toss you on your pointed head instead?” Carrie cupped her hand and splashed her sister.
“Now, now, ladies. There’s no need to fight over me when you can take turns instead,” Joiner teased as he closed the door behind him and then walked the perimeter of the pool before stepping up onto the diving board. “I have enough energy for several rounds of competition, if you’re up to it.”
“Make a big splash!” Hope screamed, delighted with the new development.
Joiner bounced twice, the board bending beneath his weight as he balanced on the balls of his feet. Finally he took a high leap and gracefully folded at the waist in the classic jackknife position. But instead of stretching his body to make a clean entry, he tucked into a tight ball and slammed into the water cannonball style, the impact sending sprays arching in every direction.
The girls shrieked and shielded their faces from the unexpected soaking.
“Was that splash big enough for you?” Joiner asked after he surfaced next to Hope.
Her playful response was to kick water in his face.
When he karate-chopped the surface with the edge of his hand in reply, the battle began in earnest―three sisters against Cullen’s brother in a contest for who could launch the strongest torrent in the other’s direction. The girls held their own quite well.
Sarah jumped to her feet and retreated to the table just out of reach of the wet madness.
The glass patio door slid wide once more and Cullen stepped through carrying a tray of plastic cups, a tall pitcher and a bowl overflowing with snack mix.
“Let me guess.” He settled the tray on the tabletop. “Joiner did his special dive for them?”
“It was extremely impressive.” Sarah filled the cups of ice with the tart drink she’d seen Alma lovingly squeeze from fresh lemons.
“And extremely effective—if your intention is to empty half the pool in one motion. There goes my water bill.”
Rocket wandered over to retrieve a bit of pretzel that had found its way to the grass.
“Ladies, how about taking a break?” she called.
Hope climbed the steps, deposited her Pretty Princess vest beside the pool and dripped her way to the table.
“Look, Mama.” She held her palm outward. “My fingers are all raisiny.”
“That happens when they get waterlogged. Catch your breath and have a snack and they’ll plump up again in no time.”
Meg and Carrie joined the table while Joiner began to swim laps, his body slicing through the water in sure, confident motions.
“If you hadn’t noticed, Joiner’s the swimmer in the family.”
“Did you have a pool when you were a kid?” Meg asked over a mouthful of the salty snack mix.
“No, but we had a membership to the YMCA. We all had lessons, but Joiner was the only one who really took to the water. Hunt and I prefer the baseball diamond, and for Mac it’s the golf course.”
“My mom says golf is a waste of time and money invented for the purpose of keeping a husband away from his wife’s honey-do list,” Sarah shared.
“I continue to be impressed with your mother’s wisdom.” Cullen smiled and raised his red Solo cup in salute.
“Do you cover up because your skin burns really badly?” Meg pointed to Cullen’s lightweight khakis and long sleeve T-shirt on such a perfect summer day.
“He fries worse than bacon on a hot skillet and he’s really hairy and gross underneath his clothes,” Joiner answered as he approached the table. He stood next to Hope and, to her delight, shook like a dog, flinging drops of water in every direction.
“You wanna learn to swim without that floatie thing?”
“Can I?” Hope turned wide eyes to her mother for permission.
“Joiner, you’re kind to offer but we can’t trouble two Temple men this weekend.”
“Let him do it, Sarah. Joiner’s very patient with kids and animals, which is why he’s going to teach Rocket to swim, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’re here and we’re wet,” Joiner pointed out the obvious to Sarah. “I can teach her a lot in a half hour, as long as her sisters don’t mind giving us the pool for a bit.”
In response, Carrie and Meg tossed beach towels over a couple of lounge chairs, poked their earbuds into place and stretched out to sun and enjoy their music.
“Carrie, turn your iPod down. I can hear Def Leppard all the way over here,” Sarah insisted.
“She’s right.” Meg thumped her sister to get her attention. “You’ll blow your eardrums out.”
“Do that again and I’ll break your fingers,” Carrie threatened.
“Let’s go, kiddo.” Joiner invited Hope with a wave of his hand and the two made a beeline for the pool.
Cullen cast a curious glance toward her surly daughter and then settled into a chair beside Sarah.
“I apologize for my oldest. She seems determined to make the awkward middle school years as tough as possible for all of us.”
“No worries, Joiner used to speak to me the same way. It lasted a couple of years but he eventually grew some respect for me and cut the crap talk.”
“Was there something in particular that made him change?”
“I shot up about six inches one summer and learned to swing a mean baseball bat.”
They shared a laugh.
“I can’t thank you enough for this break from the apartment today.”
“No thanks necessary. It’s nice to have some company besides my brothers. And Alma loves somebody to fuss over. She’s in there right now singing away while she makes chicken salad. There haven’t been any kids in this house since the previous owners moved out.”
“How come such a handsome guy doesn’t have a family of his own by now?”
“The Temple boys get asked that a lot. Not that handsome part, since the others are somewhat toady, but the marriage part because we’re all still single. I expect it’s because we witnessed an extraordinary relationship between our parents and none of us will be happy with anything less. When that kind of love comes along, we’ll recognize it.”
“I understand what you mean.” Sarah glanced toward her older daughters, who drowsed in the sun a few feet away. “I’m grateful that my girls have my parents as role models of marriage, since they’re growing up without a man in the house.”
“Do you think you’ll ever remarry?”
“Eventually, but I have the girls to concentrate on so that’s not even on my radar. I enjoyed marriage and partnership, so I do hope that blessing comes around again.”
“You have a nice outlook after the loss your family has experienced.”
“Having my daughters makes all the difference, to me and my parents. They started hinting for babies at my wedding reception.”
“I get that, too. Hunt’s engaged now so that takes the pressure off the rest of us to give Alma and Felix grandchildren before they’re too old to enjoy them, as if people in their fifties are old these days.”
“Mom keeps telling me fifty is the new thirty.”
“Yeah, well, Miss Nancy says seventy is the same drag it’s always been.”
“What’s it like to have gone to college for so many years that you know everybody on campus?”
“It’s the same as any other job after a dozen years or so, it’s just that I pay them instead of them paying me. When I wouldn’t go away after my first Ph.D., they started asking me to be a guest lecturer, and then to stand in when the history department needed short-term coverage. Doing those two things built my dubious reputation as a subject matter expert and allowed me to build a résumé. Now I can shop myself out to other universities when they have to fill some empty space in the curriculum and I want a free trip to visit a new city. I’ve got everybody fooled into thinking I know what I’m doing.”
“Cullen, why do you sell yourself short by making light of your talent?”
“It’s just easier to make a joke than to be one. I think it’s the birth-order curse of being born number three of four.”
“Well, kindly leave the doubts at home when you come to class, because the students believe you’re number one.”
“Including you?”
“Including me.” Sarah touched his sleeve lightly, to ensure he took her seriously.
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Mae Nunn
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Could he really be Professor Perfect? A handsome professor in a flannel shirt and a Texas Rangers cap? Returning to university just became less intimidating–and more intriguing–than Sarah Eason expected. As a widow in her thirties and single mom of three, Sarah′s hardly a typical coed. Except Professor Cullen Temple is starting to make her feel like one. He′s brilliant, attentive, incredibly sweet…and he′s winning over her girls. Yet there′s something troubled in those gray eyes. Something that makes her wonder if he might be too good to be true.Plus a bonus short story by USA TODAY bestselling author Ingrid Weaver