THE HALOWELL HOUSE was a small arts museum located in an old brick Colonial in the historic section of Harmony Pointe. The wide-planked hardwood floors creaked, the walls were chipped, and Norma, the petite, wire-haired woman who ran the place, had to be eighty years old—and one of the kindest women Talia had ever met. Derek hadn’t clued her in to the fact that the museum was normally closed on Sundays, but Norma opened it just for Derek and Jonah and had been doing so for the past few years, whenever they wanted to visit.
As his father looked over the artwork hanging on the walls, Derek explained that overstimulation often caused confusion and agitation for his father. He didn’t want to give up taking him to the places that Jonah had always enjoyed, so he’d made arrangements with Norma.
“I spent so much time in this museum with my parents when I was growing up that being here brings back good memories. I hope it sparks some for him, too.”
She’d been wondering about his mother, but she didn’t want to get into a heavy discussion that might sadden him, so she simply asked, “What was your mother like?”
He glanced at his father with a nostalgic expression. “She was everything my father isn’t or wasn’t. She was an accountant—organized, efficient, and methodical in everything she did. She was careful, like you. My father used to say she was the ink to his pen.” His gaze softened. “Almost every memory I have of my father includes a notebook or drawing pad in his hand or pocket. If he wasn’t coming up with recipes or taking notes on life, he was drawing. He was an incredible cartoonist. Still is sometimes.”
“Was that his drawing of Dusty?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t Dusty. That was one of mine. But when we get back I’ll show you his drawings.”
“And yours?” she asked, excited to see another side of him.
He slipped an arm around her waist, eyeing his father. “And mine.” Pulling her closer, he said, “I hope you’re not too bored.”
“Not even a little,” she said. “I’ve never been here, and experiencing it with you and your dad makes it even more special.”
After a quick kiss, they joined his father, who seemed to appreciate meandering through the museum. Derek answered his questions and didn’t rush him or get irritated when he had to repeat answers several times. Talia added patience to the growing list of things about Derek she admired. The brief lucid moments his father experienced throughout the day were as heartbreaking as they were incredible, giving Talia a peek into the depth of their relationship. Those short-lived moments brought new life to Derek’s eyes, only to be stolen away far too quickly. She ached at the emotional battering he and his father were going through.
“This is my favorite part of the visit,” Derek whispered to her. He put a hand on his father’s back and said, “Let’s go see what’s in the local artist section.”
“They have local artists? How nice,” his father said as Derek guided him into the next room.
The room was smaller than the others, with only a handful of drawings hanging on the walls. Talia admired the pen-and-ink cartoons, each one signed in the lower-right corner by Jonah. Shocked by the realization, she couldn’t help but stare at Jonah, trying to put the pieces of an artist, chef, and father together with the man before her. He was inspecting a drawing, and she tried to see it through his eyes. Did he know it was his? The first cartoon was of a couple sitting on a blanket in the grass. A bottle of wine lay on its side next to a basket overflowing with food. A short-haired woman with wide, happy eyes lay on her stomach, bare feet in the air, her chin propped up in her palms as she watched a man with longish hair drawing in a notebook. The man’s expression was serious. He had scruff on his cheeks, his mouth twisted in concentration as he drew a portrait of the woman. The only color in the drawing was the dusty pink on the woman’s lips.
“Eva,” his father said as he ran his finger over the image of the woman. His eyes filled with pride. “I drew this.”
“It’s beautiful.” Emotions bubbled up inside her, and she looked at Derek, who was a little misty-eyed. “She’s beautiful.”
They moved to the next drawing, this one done in pencil. Eva stood in a field of wildflowers, her arms crossed over her pregnant belly. Her hair was a little longer, blowing away from her face, her eyes half-closed, a small smile on her lips. The wind blew her dress and cardigan, both varying shades of blue, against her, accentuating her belly.
Jonah blinked several times, and Talia wondered if he knew his wife was gone, or if he was reliving the moment he’d drawn that picture.
“I’m talented,” he said with awe.
“Very talented,” she agreed. “These are wonderful.” When his father moved on to another picture, she whispered to Derek, “I thought your father was a chef? I didn’t know he was also a well-known artist.”
Derek squeezed her hand. “Let’s just say this is another favor Norma was kind enough to carry out for me.”
“You’re amazing, arranging all this for your father, letting him relive his glory.”
“Maybe I’m allowing us both to relive it.”
After leaving the museum, they stopped at Fresh Eats, a small family-owned market, where the owner greeted Derek and his father by name and had their groceries waiting to be paid for. Derek explained that although he’d been raised to do things for himself, when he’d realized errands posed issues for his father, and with the constraints on his time, he’d had to rethink his stance on asking for special favors.
When they arrived back at Derek’s house, his father settled in to watch television, and Talia and Derek unloaded the groceries. Talia hadn’t known how she’d actually feel, spending the day with Derek and his father, although she’d wanted to enjoy it. As she and Derek put away the groceries, she realized that not only had she thoroughly enjoyed their time together, but Derek had opened up the most intimate part of his life to her.
“I’m not sure if there’s anyone around to tell you this,” she said, “but you’re really good with your father.”
“Thanks. I don’t need anyone to tell me, but I appreciate hearing it from you.”
“Everyone needs a pat on the back sometimes.”
“Maybe, but this disease strips the ego from everyone it touches—patients, family members, caretakers . . .” Derek said as he put a head of lettuce in the fridge.
“Because you need to ask for special favors?” she asked as he drew her into his arms, smiling as if he hadn’t a care in the world, though she knew better. It made her appreciate his happiness even more.
He pressed his lips to hers, soft and warm. “When the person who raised you, who you knew to be smart, funny, and sharp as a tack, doesn’t recognize you, or gets angry and says hurtful things, you learn to let go of everything you were taught about standing up for yourself or expecting appreciation. Because that’s the disease taking over, and that man in there? He doesn’t need to feel any worse than he already does about what’s happening to him. Better that I accept being wrong, take a verbal lashing that I know is not from his heart, or even become invisible when need be, and he remain in a peaceful place for as long as he can.”
“I was thinking too narrowly, and I take it back. You aren’t ‘really good with him’; you’re amazing all around.”
“No, I’m not, babe. I’m just a regular guy taking care of his father the best way he can.” He kissed her again. “I’d really like it if you’d stay for dinner. A little bird told me that you could use a cooking lesson. But if you’ve had enough babysitting for the day, I’ll understand.”
He’d given her an out before with his father, and she had to ask the burning question. “Do women usually tire of spending time with you and your father?”
“I wouldn’t know. For the past few years, women haven’t been a big part of my life.” He dipped his head and kissed the hollow of her neck. “But I’m no saint, Talia. I don’t want to mislead you. I’ve gone out with a few women, but, um . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “I wouldn’t call them dates, and no other women have met him.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling a little uncomfortable. That shouldn’t surprise her. Most of the people she knew had casual sex. But there was no denying the sting it brought hearing it from Derek. On the other hand, she much preferred his honesty to a man who would lie just to get her into bed. “Stress-relief hookups?”
“I don’t know. I’d say they were more to remind myself I’m still a single guy in my late twenties even if my life isn’t typical.” He leaned against the counter, bringing her between his legs. “I’m not a sleazeball, Talia, but I’m not going to lie to you, even if it hurts. You mentioned having trust issues, and I want you to know that you can trust me. For you, I’m an open book.”
Did he know how much of a turn-on his unrelenting honesty was? “Thank you. A cheating ex left me wary,” she said softly.
“Well, I’ve never been a cheater, and I certainly would never cheapen our relationship in that way. My situation guides me through life, and there’s no room for covering my tracks.”
“Why me? Why now? Why not just try to have a one-night stand?”
His brow furrowed. “You are not a one-night-stand girl. You’re too smart and you respect yourself too much. Hell, Talia, I respect you too much for that. And despite what I’ve done over the past few years, I’m not a one-night-stand type of guy. I want more out of life than meaningless hookups. Eventually, I want what my parents had. And right now”—he slid a hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her closer—“I want to kiss you until you forget everything I just said and go back to thinking about only you and me.”
His lips smothered hers so exquisitely, she couldn’t think at all. One hand threaded into her hair and the other slid to her ass, holding her against him from mouth to middle, and oh, did he feel good. Her insides flamed as their bodies took over, grinding and groping, electrifying her entire being. His whiskers abraded her skin with tantalizing prickles as he kissed the edges of her mouth and along her jaw, nipping and kissing a path down her neck. He slipped his finger into the collar of her sweater, tugging it down, stopping just short of the swell of her breast. Blood pounded through her veins as he touched his open mouth to her sensitive skin, tasting and then sucking so hard her knees nearly gave out. She stifled a moan, her gaze darting toward the living room.
He trailed kisses along her breastbone. “His chair creaks when he gets up.”
“Then don’t stop,” she pleaded.
In the next breath, he had her against the counter, kissing her fiercely, groping her ass, and fondling her breasts. She clutched at his shoulders, bowed off the counter, trying to feel more of him.
When his mouth left hers, she arched her neck. “Kissmekissmekissme—”
She pushed his head lower, wanting more of the delicious sensations of his hot mouth on her skin. He lifted her sweater, revealing the blue lace bra she’d carefully chosen that morning, and made an utterly male sound. He kissed her above the lace, his hand wreaking havoc with her senses as he brushed his thumb over her nipple in lazy circles. Eyes closed, she pushed her hands into his back pocket, rocking against his hard heat. He sealed his mouth over her sensitive flesh and sucked so hard lust zinged through her like sparks beneath her skin.
“Oh God. Derek,” she panted out, wanting, needing more.
Cool air washed over the swell of her breast as he lifted his mouth. She opened her eyes, meeting his approval-seeking gaze, and didn’t hesitate as “Yes” left her lips.
Holding her gaze, he slid a finger into the cup of her bra and pulled it down, freeing her breast. And holy cow, the predatory look in his eyes was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He lowered his mouth, teasing her into a noodle-legged mess of desire. Her body trembled with every suck, and though she’d never before been this aggressive, this unafraid or turned on, she trusted him completely and guided his hand between her legs.
“Aw, fuck, Talia,” he ground out.
His greedy voice sent lust coursing through her like a raging river, uncontrollable and inescapable. Their kisses turned frenzied as he shifted his body, blocking the view of her from the hallway. He adeptly unbuttoned her jeans and pushed his hand down the front at the same moment he claimed her mouth in another brutal kiss. His fingers moved swiftly to the place she needed him most, and he groaned into their kiss. That greedy noise and the feel of his hard shaft against her had her spreading her legs wider. He teased over her sex as he possessed her mouth in a kiss so deep and rough, fire sizzled in her veins. His fingers sank into her, and she gasped with pleasure. His thumb pressed on her clit, moving in a mind-numbing rhythm as his fingers found the magical spot that sent her up onto her toes. She couldn’t concentrate on kissing, standing, or anything other than the pleasures radiating through her as he sent her soaring.
He swallowed her cries with more all-consuming kisses, until she collapsed in a breathless heap against him, her body jerking with aftershocks as he whispered, “Stay,” in her ear.
Sometime later, after Talia agreed to stay for dinner and they both calmed enough to actually focus on something other than the passion consuming them, they watched a show with his father and then began cooking dinner. Derek couldn’t stop looking at Talia. He moved closer so their arms touched as they sliced peppers, sweet potatoes, onions, and zucchini. He knew it was a lot to ask of her to accept his dancing, his father, his life. A shy smile lifted her lips, and in that moment he felt like she’d always been right there with him. Like she belonged there.
“You cut veggies like a pro. Are you sure you suck at cooking?” They were making herbed lamb cutlets with roasted vegetables, one of his father’s favorite meals.
“I make a mean microwave meal.” She glanced at the vegetables on his cutting board. “You cut twice as fast as I do.”
“I’ve been doing it my whole life. You can’t grow up with a chef and not learn from him. All those hours I spent at the restaurant paid off as a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine trying to order in or eating out with my father. There are too many foods we try to avoid, like processed and white foods, which aren’t good for cognition, and too much agitation with crowds and unfamiliar surroundings.”
“Do you cook all your father’s meals?”
“Yes, except when Maria is here. It’s not difficult. It just takes planning and the desire to want to eat something colorful and delicious that doesn’t come from a box.” He softened the tease with a kiss.
“Hey, don’t dis my eating habits.”
“I have no idea how you have survived this long on sugar and microwave meals, but I’d never try to get you to change, much less change what you enjoy eating.”
“I never said I enjoyed them.” She set down her knife and helped him put the vegetables on a large baking tray.
“Then there’s hope for you yet.” He kissed her again, knowing he’d never get enough. “Now we drizzle olive oil over them.” He stepped behind her and placed his hand over hers, drizzling the oil with her. “I saw a flyer for a cooking class on the table by your door. Are you thinking of taking it?”
“It was part of my journey outside my comfort zone. I was considering it. Piper’s been pushing me. She keeps urging me to join an outdoors club and go hiking or something like that.”
He put the vegetables in the oven. “I’ll teach you to cook, and I’d love to take you hiking when it’s warmer. Or skiing, mountain climbing, whatever you’d like.”
“Whoa, skiing? Mountain climbing? I don’t even go camping anymore. Not after what happened when I was young.”
He arched a brow. “Bear incident?”
“Bear?” Her eyes bloomed wide. “Another reason not to go in the woods, but no. My father took us on a family camping trip and it rained so hard our tent flooded. Five kids, two adults, and one tarp. We were two miles from our car, in the dark. It wasn’t pretty.”
He chuckled as she went on to describe their cold, wet night. But there was no missing the happy thread in her voice as she relayed what sounded like an adventure.
“Besides, it’s not as if your life isn’t busy enough already,” she said as he set mint leaves and thyme on her cutting board and lamb cutlets on his.
“If you chop those up, I’ll trim the fat from the lamb.” When she began chopping, he said, “If you haven’t guessed my selfish reasons, teaching you to cook and taking you out for a hike or whatever would give us more time together.”
Her gaze flicked up to his. “Suddenly a cooking class with Chef Derek sounds perfect.”
“Did you ever help your mother cook?”
“We all helped, but I always had my nose in a book, so while I helped, I never paid attention. I’m not the only one who didn’t learn to cook. Piper could burn water. But Ben is an amazing cook. And I did learn how to make soaps and lotions from my mom. Cooking is just not my thing.”
“I’d like to be your thing.” He stole another kiss. “Your family sounds like fun, and you seem close to them. You’re lucky.”
“I am, but not as close as my sisters are to each other. They talk about everything. I’m more private.”
“So, they won’t hear the dirty details of our pre-dinner make-out session?”
“No!” she insisted, eyes as wide as saucers.
He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “Good. Some things should be private.”
“They wouldn’t believe it if I told them anyway.” She lowered her voice and said, “I’m not normally like that.”
“You mean too sexy to resist?” He kissed her until she went soft in his arms. Man, he loved that feeling. “Trust me, babe, there’s not a single moment when you’re not too sexy to resist.” She blushed, and he kissed her crimson cheeks. “Like now. I could carry you into my bedroom, and—”
She silenced him with her fingers over his lips. “Shh. You’ll get me all hot and bothered again. I don’t usually . . .”
He pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Just knowing I can turn you on with words turns me on.” Enjoying another flash of surprise in her pretty eyes, he said, “I don’t normally do or say those things, either. I have a feeling you and I are going to find we’re doing a lot of things with each other that we wouldn’t normally do.”