Chapter Twenty-Six #2
For a man of his size his movements were always quicker than she expected. He uncrossed her arms and clasped one of her hands. Immediate warmth hit her core like she’d dived into a warm spring on a cool day.
“Colleen called and told me about your grandmother."
She cut him off. “How is she? I didn’t want to burden her with leaving so abruptly, but—"
He pulled her sister hand into his, pressed them both.
“She’s fine.” The left corner of his mouth tipped up, his eyes giving her a subtle roll.
“Managed the wedding like she always has – efficiently and in total command mode, despite being in a wheelchair. Slade was with her every moment, so don’t worry.
She’s fine, Charity. She’s just worried about you. ”
Taking a full step in closer until their knees bumped together, he added, “So am I.” The moisture floating in his eyes as they dragged across her face almost had her crying again, but she clamped down on the sadness with a headshake.
“I’m fine. Sad, o’course ‘cuz she was the greatest grandmother in the history of grandmothers, but, I’m okay. You didn’t have to fly all the way here to find that out. You could’a called. Or texted.”
Another head shake. “Your accent’s thicker here.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Did you call or text me when you found out about my mother?”
“Well...no. But that was different.”
“How?” That head tilt was gonna be her undoing. He looked all of about five years old and yet so damn manly charming she couldn’t think straight.
“Because...” The silence swirled around them as she got flustered. “Well, I don’t know why just at the moment, but it is.”
Kolby continued to hold her gaze.
Lordy, it was so good to see him in the flesh. After the speed dating debacle, she’d wondered if he’d ever speak to her again, much less want to see her.
“There is no difference, Charity. You followed me to Concord because you were worried about me and I did the same today. Only, I can add a few more reasons than simple worry.”
He pulled her hands to lie against his chest as he continued to hold them.
“I wanted—”
“Baby-girl?”
She stepped back so fast she teetered on her kitten heels as she tried to pull her hands from his grasp. Kolby held fast to them.
“Steady,” he said, softly.
“Mama. Daddy.” Heat flooded her face at the looks her parents were tossing her way. Well, to be honest, Kolby’s way. And, Jiminy Crickets, all five of her brothers stood behind them, glowering as well.
Well, Mama wasn’t glowering. Not exactly. No, plastered on her face was a mixed makeup of confusion, interest, and admiration, her blue eyes sparkling.
“What’s going on, Baby-girl?” her father asked at the same time her mother said, “Who's this?”
Wishing for that lightning strike again, Charity inhaled, said a quick, hopeful prayer none of her brothers were currently armed, and said, “This is Kolby O’Brian. My co-worker.”
***
He’d almost added something else to her statement along the lines of, ‘I’m the guy who loves your daughter,’ but from the heated animosity being thrown his way from the six men staring him down like they were ready to beat him to a pulp, he figured that might be something to save for later on in the conversation.
His gaze skimmed over the testosterone, each and every one of them bigger than the other, and settled on Charity’s mother.
She could have been her daughter’s twin sister.
The memory of Charity telling him how old his mother was when she married burst to the front of his brain.
Yeah, she looked more like an older sister than Charity’s mom.
Both tiny-framed and barely five feet. Each with that natural platinum hair no bottle dye could replicate.
He moved forward and, with his hand outstretched to her, said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Quinlan.
Charity speaks of you often, and now I can see where her beauty comes from. ”
The compliment, real and truthful, hit its mark because her mother grinned from ear to ear, a smile that doubled as her daughter’s as she took his hand and pressed it.
“Mr. O’Brian. You’re a photographer, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She dropped his hand and glanced over at her daughter. “A hittin’ man?”
Confusion doused him. Charity’s face went from icecap white to lobster shell crimson in a heartbeat. “I’ll explain later,” she said quietly to him as she nodded at her mother.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Mrs. Quinlan said cryptically to her daughter.
Not understanding at all, he turned his attention to her father. Hand out again, he said, “Mr. Quinlan. I’m deeply sorry for your loss. Charity quotes your mother often.”
He thought his hand might stay unshaken as he held it out for more than a few moments.
Charity’s father continued to scowl at him and for a fleeting moment, Kolby wondered if he’d make it out of town alive.
Then, Charity’s mother elbowed her husband, which broke his attentive glare.
With a great deal of evident reluctance, the man shot out his hand, and in a bone-crushing grip, pumped it once before letting it go.
It took everything in Kolby not to shake some blood back into his hand once Rory Quinlan set him free.
“People are waitin’, Daddy,” one of the men said from behind them. “We’d best get to it.”
Rory nodded, then took his wife’s arm with his hand. “Come along then, Baby-girl.”
“Y’all go on in. I’ll be right there.”
That didn’t sit well with Rory Quinlan, and he looked as if he were going to say something about it, but his wife tugged on his arm. “Come on, ol’man. Let’s go greet the grievin’.”
Once they were alone in the hallway again, Charity rubbed at her temple while letting a deep exhale whistle through her lips.
“You have a headache,” Kolby said. “Migraine?”
“It’s in the infant stages. Between the over-the-top floral grief displays and everyone wearin’ perfume or cologne, it’s been buildin’ steadily all morning.”
She sighed, then stared up at him again. “Kolby. Why are you here? Really?”
The need to touch her was profound. He’d driven all night, thankful the wedding party hadn’t wanted morning after photos, to New York, where he’d hopped a direct morning flight to Gulfport, thankfully sleeping on the plane.
He rented a car and then drove the ninety minutes to Gulches End.
He had no plan, no reservations to stay anywhere, his only goal was to see Charity and offer whatever comfort he could on her grandmother’s passing.
And to tell her what she meant to him. His attempt to do so at Liv’s event had backfired.
Instead of her jumping into his arms like he’d hoped, she’d bolted from the place so fast, before he knew it, she was gone.
Liv’s advice had been to let her sit with her feelings for a bit.
He had every intention of driving over to her apartment the following morning to convince her he wasn’t kidding when he’d told her what he wanted his life to look like moving into the future.
And that he wanted her in that life.
But he’d never driven over because Colleen called him, informed him of the situation, and that Charity would be gone for a while.
His one and only thought had been to go to her. He wasn’t certain if she would throw him out or welcome him with open arms, but when he booked the flight, he didn’t care. He needed to be with her, hold her, tell her he was there if she needed him.
And Christ, he hoped she needed him.
“I know how much she meant to you,” he said. “And I know how much her loss hurts. I just wanted to,” he shrugged, “offer you some comfort. Let you know you weren’t alone.”
“Like I could ever be alone with the family I’ve got,” she murmured, shaking her head, hands on her hips.
Okay, so was that a joke? If she could kid around with him, she couldn’t still be as mad or worried or whatever, as she’d been when she ran out of the event, could she?
He took a step closer, took a chance she wasn’t mad, and rubbed a hand down her arm. Eyes sparkling with moisture lifted to him.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered.
“Believe it. And I’m staying.”
“I don’t know how long I’m going to be here, Kolby. What about your mother? You can’t leave her for any length of time.”
“She’s fine. No, really,” he said as she shot him a quizzical brow lift. “I spoke with her doctor before I got on the plane and with her when I landed. The meds have finally kicked in and she’s lucid, repentant, and apologetic that I had to return all that stuff she bought.”
Charity’s expression relaxed.
He swept her hands into his again. “She asked about you and I told her what happened. You have her sympathies, she said to tell you.”
“I’m glad she’s feeling better.”
“So, no worries about my being gone for a bit. I can still talk to her a few times a day.”
She nodded.
“Charity, about Liv’s event—”
“Not now.” She squeezed his hand and glanced over her shoulder. “I – I need to go in. Be with my family.”
“Of course. Of course. I’ll make myself scarce.”
“No.” The word exploded from her and her color went red again. “I mean, you came all this way. You don’t have to leave. Come in. Sit. Don’t leave. Okay?”
So okay that he practically shouted with joy. Remembering where they were, and the solemnity of the situation, thankfully, prevented him from doing so.
“Okay,” he said.
Relief spread over her cheeks.
“Come on, then.” She tugged him toward the viewing room.