The Lost Sister (Sister Series, #8) Read online

  Heat that was so much hotter and pervasive filled up her face and chest. Her clothes felt suddenly too tight. She nearly gulped down the anxiety she felt. “Well… I mean, Wyatt… and Chloe…” She gave up and shrugged. “You’re right, I was.”

  His smile was fast. “Your reaction is the norm, and not the exception. We’re used to it.”

  “You two… you get along very well.”

  His smile was soft as he gazed at Wyatt. Tara tried to swallow the sudden lump that lodged in her throat. Imagine her father ever once having that kind of sentiment towards her. “Yeah. We do pretty well.”

  “Is it hard? I mean, being a single father?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know, we manage to figure it all out. I get a lot of help from both Ebony’s and my family. That takes a lot of the pressure off.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine bearing that kind of responsibility. I can barely support myself.”

  “Well, once it happens, you really don’t have a choice. And when you love someone like I love Wyatt, it’s pure pleasure.”

  “That’s about the best attitude I’ve ever heard toward kids. I wish…”

  “What? What do you wish?” He had a way of looking right into her eyes, as if he seriously cared what she had to say. It disconcerted her. Something she was not used to.

  She looked off to the corner of the room, ordering her heart not to care. “That one of my parents, either my father or mother, felt that way towards me.”

  “Emotionally unavailable parents?” he asked finally.

  She shrugged. “They didn’t beat me or anything like that. I mean, I was not an abused child or anything. They were just kind of… mean.” Stingy. Rude. Awful, actually, but it wasn’t something she felt like discussing. Especially right now. It might lead to more questions like where were they now? And why was she here?

  “Mean? That’s pretty shitty coming from parents. I can’t imagine how anyone could be mean to their kids, I really can’t. Sometimes, I speak too sharply, which I do when I’m irritated or trying to discipline… you know, as a parent, and later, I usually apologize because I’m feeling so awful and guilty for it.”

  “Apologize?” she snorted. “My parents would have to reprimand me first. Never. No matter what they did or didn’t do, never would they admit I had any feelings they had to deal with or be responsible for, let alone apologize to me. They never apologized… for anything.”

  “That’s cold. I can’t imagine treating your own kid that way.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “What?”

  “Being a father? A parent? The sole provider and caregiver for an entire human being’s body, soul, mind, behavior, and emotions? I can’t imagine all that pressure.”

  He chuckled and wiped his mouth after another huge gulp of wine. “Well, when you describe it like that, I should be elevated to sainthood.” He shook his head, grinning at her. “It’s much smaller than that. That might be the end goal and the desired results, but you handle it by taking one day at a time. I knew so little about babies. I had to learn. But eventually, you learn what your baby is like and grow with them as a parent. Confidence sets in later and you realize it’s your child and you love them, so you start to know what is best for them and what they need the most. I don’t know the answers. I don’t have a child psychology degree and I never read much about childrearing. I just do it. Each day.

  “Wyatt gets up and we interact and I do whatever feels right. Some things are obvious: baths, feeding, clean clothes, and plenty of food and water. Monitoring the inventory and teaching Wyatt how to start sustaining himself just naturally developed for me. The harder part is knowing at what age to say certain things. How should I explain his mother’s absence? How much is too much information for a child? How much is too little? Those things are what I stress over. But I usually say whatever feels right, and gauge his reaction. I know my child, inside and out, better than anyone else in the world, so that makes it easier than, say, someone like you, who is just meeting him.”

  She sipped the wine. “I love your description. I’ve never heard such a theory before. I think my parents never developed the love part. Even unwanted and unplanned children often end up being loved by their parents. Mine didn’t.”

  He reached out and touched her hand, laying on the table. “I’m sorry. That’s a tough, bitter pill for me to imagine anybody starting out with.”

  She squeezed his hand back, turning red as she did so. “I love knowing that you won’t do that to Wyatt. Despite how his mom left him.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “No child deserves parents who don’t want them or can’t love them enough to stay around and raise them. I can’t undo the damage Ebony’s decision could have had on him and will continue to do to him. But I try my hardest to mitigate the effects and compensate for it.”

  She stared him right in the eye. “It will, Ryder. If I had even one person, a parent or grandparent, who loved me and cared for me and wanted me like you do Wyatt, I’m sure I’d be a different person and my childhood would have been much better than just tolerable.”

  He tilted his head with a small nod. “Thank you for the compliment. Sometimes, I doubt if I can really undo all the damage. But maybe you’re right, I can sure as hell minimize it.”

  “Just your desire is enough, trust me. Wyatt knows on a subconscious level that you want him to live the best life ever. That will mean something to him when he’s old enough to fully understand what Ebony failed to do.”

  Wyatt ran up then and planted himself on his dad’s lap. Ryder grinned as he tucked an arm around his waist and tickled his tummy. Wyatt giggled, grabbing his dad’s hand and turning towards Tara as he started chatting again. She was instantly charmed and easily engaged him. This time, her self-consciousness with Wyatt started to melt. He was really just a little person. If she followed the theory that Ryder had explained and watched Wyatt’s cues, she might be able to gauge his understanding and learn how she should react and interact with him.

  And it didn’t hurt that she was falling in love with the kid.

  They ate the fish and it seemed to melt in Tara’s mouth. It tasted so good with the clear, crisp chardonnay, rice, and peas. All the flavors complimented each other. Wyatt roped them into another game before they tackled the dishes and several yawns escaped from her mouth. Ryder caught her and said while grinning, “I think we’d better take Tara home before she falls asleep on us, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt giggled as he leaned over the lower dishwasher rack, setting the plates in carefully. It was obvious Ryder and Wyatt did everything together and quite often. The routine they shared was always in sync.

  It turned out to be the most fun, pleasantly surprising day Tara had spent in years… maybe ever. It would live inside her for a long time. Her heart was full and swollen with these two males. They were so oddly sweet, cute, and funny together.

  They pulled into her driveway and Tara glanced at Wyatt first, saying, “Night, Wyatt. Thanks for letting me tag along with you and your dad… and for all the butt-whipping you gave me playing the games.”

  “See you at the café, Tara. Bye.”

  She smiled and glanced at Ryder. “Thank you so much for the entire day.”

  “Thank you for catching the season’s big one. Gives good mojo to our boat, huh, Wyatt?”

  “Yup.”

  She exited from the car and began working the key in the basement door when she heard Ryder’s voice behind her. He startled her. “Tara?”

  She turned towards him. “Yes?” They were hidden from the truck and the street by the shrubbery that filled the yard. The door was on the side of the house. Ryder was right there behind her. Her heart fluttered again when he didn’t answer at first. He stared down and swiped his foot back and forth. Then he sighed and again, rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you, ah... hell, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

  “Done what?”

  “Asked someone out.”
r />   Her eyes must have bugged out because he shrugged, dropping his hand from his neck and burying it into his jean pocket. “So? Do you want to go out on a date? With me? Without Wyatt? Or… any other wildlife?”

  “A date?” Her eyebrows lowered and she sounded as confused as he was.

  “Well, yeah, but you look like you just put a lemon in your mouth. I mean, forget it. There’s no pressure, today was fun… I was just thinking how much fun… but no pressure. I mean, I didn’t invite you today to make you uncomfortable. I really wanted you to try your hand at fishing.”

  She’d never heard him sound so unsure. She put her hand out, grabbing his forearm. “No!” she exclaimed, afraid he was about to spin around and leave.

  His eyebrows lowered and his expression furrowed into complete puzzlement. “No… don’t ask you? Or no, you don’t want to go?”

  She felt the heat rising in her face. “I mean, no, I—I don’t feel uncomfortable. I want… I mean yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

  His shoulders relaxed and his expression eased. It seemed like maybe they were both bad at this, but she assumed for very different reasons. His was perhaps owing to a bad marriage. Hers? Because she never technically went on a date. So she had absolutely no experience to draw from.

  “I’m off Saturday night. I have to work until six, but I could pick you up at… say, seven? If you’re not working.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  His mouth relaxed and a smile tugged the corners of it. “Okay.”

  She stared up at him, caught in the depth of his gaze and the way his hair curled over his forehead. It was hard to resist touching the long chestnut strand that fell on his handsome brow. “Okay,” she repeated, her smile as big and goofy as his.

  He took a step back, then another and another, still staring at her before he finally turned on his heel and jogged towards his truck where his son waited.

  Her stomach fluttered again. His son. Crap. Shit. What was she thinking? Going out on a date, on an actual, real, formal, proper social experience. Sure, Tara had hooked up here and there with guys, but she had never dated them. The ways and places of her former liaisons… She shuddered as she remembered her sexual history with utter displeasure. There was no dating those guys, just sex. Imagine if Ryder knew about her history. And what her past sexual experiences included… He wouldn’t come near her if he knew. She flopped down on the bed. But how long would it be before he started to ask where she came from, and why did she just show up here one day? He knew she didn’t have family, and at some point, her parents were mean to her. That was a pretty brief description of her past. She had dropped some hints, but nothing he could possibly imagine.

  No, upstanding fish-cop Ryder couldn’t ever understand how she spent the last five years. She cringed, worried he could find out her real name and do a background check on Tara Tamasy. He would certainly have to withdraw his invitation for a date. She really wanted to go out with him. Badly. Why? Because he was hot. Sure. Duh! She wasn’t dead. She was still young and had a strong pulse… although there were plenty of times when she wondered how that could be after the way she had spent the last five years.

  He was freaking law enforcement, raising a small, young son by himself; how could he become a date of hers? She didn’t foresee anything with him. No. What would they have in common? Even their dispositions, their attitudes on life and… politics and homelessness and drug use and prostitution… They had to be polar opposites, and yet, he didn’t know all there was to know about her. But if he found out, Tara doubted he would allow her near his sweet, innocent, precious little son.

  She pressed a hand on her chest as her heart rate accelerated.

  One date. Dinner. It wasn’t a marriage proposal. She didn’t have to tell him any of her history, and he, most likely, didn’t want to know. They were just two attractive singles in this town of less than a thousand people, so she was interesting to him simply because of that.

  What were the chances of her staying here beyond a few months? If and when it went south between her and Ryder, she’d simply take off. Done. Problem solved.

  Shored up by the reality of the situation, she alleviated her guilt in accepting his date.

  He pretty much gave her the best day of her life and that was something her own family never provided, neither as a child and especially not as a teen. Imagine. The best day of her life included things like yucky fish guts and blood and… pride. She somehow managed to outdo a whole bunch of men at their own sport and they seemed to take it pretty damn seriously. Tara bumbled in there with no skills and accidentally beat all of them. Best of all, it happened in the presence of a child she truly adored.

  Chapter Seven

  RYDER’S HANDS WERE CLAMMY when he knocked on Tara’s door. He nearly shook his head at himself. Nervous? Just to go on a damn date? Yes, he was. He had avoided eating lunch at the café for the rest of the week, figuring that would just be awkward… at least, it would have been for him. He asked Chloe to bring Wyatt home when she left the café, claiming he had to work late. Which he did for a few nights. But avoiding the girl he had just asked out? That was new for him.

  Ryder hadn’t dated since Ebony. She was his last date. And his last sexual partner. His last love. His last subject of interest. He sighed as he waited for Tara to answer, still wondering what he was doing there. She was too young in the first place. And there was a story attached to her. He knew that for sure. Not all the details, but he knew she had a past and some pretty heavy baggage. The last thing he needed was to complicate his and Wyatt’s life with someone else’s sad history. Not when they already had so much of their own. Too much.

  Tara jerked the door open and there they stood, staring at each other like they were sixteen years old and going on their first date. She smiled, her skin flushing, which seemed to always happen whenever their eyes met.

  There was something reserved about Tara’s overall demeanor. She held in most of the things she had to say. She smiled with a guarded, unsure quality. When she laughed, which was rare, it was a quiet, soft laugh that almost seemed like she was trying to keep quiet. Odd mannerisms. She spoke as if she thought someone was always listening and she didn’t want them to hear, or maybe she thought no one wanted to hear what she had to say.

  She wore the jeans and shirt he’d seen her in more than a few times before and the white sneakers were the only shoes she had. Of that he was sure. Her long, blonde hair fell to her elbows in a straight sheet down her back and shoulders and she had no bangs. Her makeup use was minimal if she wore any at all, and he wasn’t sure if she did.

  “Hi, Tara,” he said, his tone quiet. He learned early on that she responded better to quiet voices than loud ones. She cringed like a startled puppy if anyone used loud voices around her. Even if something was said in excitement or joy, Tara preferred and seemed most comfortable with voices that were measured and calm.

  She smiled again. “Hello.” She had a purse over her arm and coat in the other hand. “I’m ready.”

  He pressed his lips together to hold in the smile. She was so unlike some women with their fashionably long waiting times and pretenses. She seemed pretty upfront, like what you see is what you get; except for her past, which she didn’t want to talk about. That was clear. But neither did he wish to spend his time with her talking about Ebony and their past. It hurt too much. It never failed to make him feel stupid and sad or fill him with regret. Why would he want to dwell on that? He wouldn’t. He figured she didn’t want to spend much time dwelling on her past either.

  He swept his arm for her to go first and she gave him a startled glance. She didn’t seem to know what to do with all of his attention, no matter how small or subtle. It was oddly intriguing. Was she completely unaware of her attractiveness? She didn’t need to do anything to enhance it, and he didn’t think she did. Best of all, it didn’t seem like an act, which made her even more oddly endearing to him.

  He followed behind her and opened the t
ruck door for her. Startled, her eyebrows scrunched up at him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes; had she never gone on a proper first date? Or did she not like them? Holding doors and letting women enter first were habits drilled into him by his mother during his adolescence. Ebony appreciated it. He’d done it for her long before they were married, and even at miscellaneous times before she left—

  No. He wasn’t reliving that. Her. Ebony.

  Back to his first date with a new woman. On the road driving, she was quiet, tucking her hands under the coat she placed over her lap with obvious anxiety. The conversation was stilted, even stressed at times. He asked about the last few days and what she did on her other day off. Tara answered in single, monosyllabic words, and nothing more. Nothing further. Her nerves obviously made her feel tongue-tied, which was kind of sweet. Ryder couldn’t remember encountering such an occurrence in a decade… or longer; since early high school, probably. Ebony was confident, talkative, and full of self-assurance. They never had to endure long silences between them. Always easily they got along. He twisted his butt around in the seat, silently chastising himself, no! No more Ebony. No past. Here and now. He was on a date… finally. With a nice, sweet, extremely attractive woman. But she was almost too young for him, not just in her years, but her life experience as well.

  He tried to shake himself out of his funk. Whatever he kept trying to avoid in dating Tara didn’t matter. He wasn’t marrying her. Or looking at her and wondering what kind of stepmother for Wyatt she could be. He wasn’t doing that. Who cared? It would never come to that. He was looking… for what? Honestly? To feel the same thrill he felt when hanging out with her: chemical attraction. That blushing, glowing feeling of being with another adult and wanting to spend more time with them. Even sharing a meal with Tara felt like so much more than when he shared it with his brothers or his parents.

  They went to dinner up in Vancouver at a Greek place that overlooked the Columbia River. The window seat offered unobstructed views of lights in Portland across the river and, closer to them, the dark, inky surface of the Columbia River. The ambience was comprised of dim lighting from candles, white tablecloths, crisp napkins, and spotless utensils. Ryder held Tara’s chair and waited for her to sit before he did. Her eyes were big as she glanced around. She took the menu that was handed to her.