into a scowl. Her blue eyes widened when he pulled her to the sofa and pushed her down. "Sit ... and listen. Spending time with a lowlife like Gallagher is hardly flying straight. He's nothing but trouble." He slacked his stance, hands braced on his hips. "Although I could say the same for you."
She perched on the edge of the sofa, hugging her knees. "Maybe you're just jealous."
He muttered under his breath and yanked her back up. He turned her to face him, his hands tight on her arms. "I'm not playing here, Charity. Rigan Gallagher is dangerous. I don't want you seeing him."
Her smile faded. "You're hardly my father, Mitch. I'll see whomever I please."
He softened his hold. "Not him. Trust me. He has a reputation."
She pulled out of his grasp and sank to the sofa, rubbing her arms where he'd gripped her. "So do you," she whispered, looking up with hurt in her eyes. "Especially with me."
He drew in a long breath and exhaled. He sat down beside her, his voice quiet. "You're right. I haven't exactly proven my virtue where you're concerned. I'm not excusing what you did, but I'm the one who gave in. I won't deny you were the temptation, but my actions ... ," he rubbed his palms over his face, "they were wrong." He looked up, his eyes heavy with remorse. "Will you forgive me?"
She blinked. "It's no crime to be attracted to someone, Mitch. It was just a kiss. There's no sin in that."
He stood. "There is when you're in love with someone else."
She jumped up and restrained him with a hand on his arm. Her eyes were naked with pain. "I've died a thousand deaths over what I did to my sister, Mitch. And to you. But she's gone, and I'm still here." A glimmer of hope flickered across her face. "Attraction is the first step to falling in love, you know."
He stared for a long moment, then quietly removed her hand from his coat. "Not for me, Charity. I want more."
She moved away and turned, her eyes chilling him to the bone. "What more could there possibly be?"
He studied her. A little girl with the look of a woman, bent on a track that would destroy her soul. His smile was sad. "I only hope and pray you find out."
She stood stock-still for a full moment after the door closed behind him. Nothing but the cold click of the lock, a rush of frigid air, and the heat of her anger. She pressed a finger to her temple, her gaze singeing the paisley swirl of the worn parlor rug. She straightened her shoulders and moved down the hall, head high and fists clenched. Stopping briefly outside the kitchen door, she drew in a deep breath, heavy with the aroma of Bridget's boiled coffee. She flexed her fingers and practiced a smile, wide and relaxed. There was no need to worry Grandmother.
"Dinner was wonderful," she said, breezing into the room with a warm smile.
Bridget looked up with worry lines etched between her brows. "Is Mitch all right?"
Charity rounded the table to collect the dishes. She blew out the candles. "Of course."
Bridget hesitated. "Are you?"
Charity laughed as she unloaded the dishes onto the counter. "Yes, dear one, I am. It was a lovely evening." She turned. "Mima in bed?"
Bridget nodded.
"Well, you need to head that way too. I'll take care of the dishes."
"We'll do them together." Bridget moved to the sink.
Charity squeezed an arm around her grandmother's shoulder. "No, ma'am. You look as exhausted as Mima. I'm doing them, no argument." She pulled away to rub the sleeves of her blouse. "But I do believe I'll change into something warm first. You might just lose those impatiens tonight, Grandmother."
A sad smile curved Bridget's lips. "It's time, I suppose. Unto everything there is a season ..."
Charity kissed her grandmother's forehead. "One season ending just means another is beginning." She gently stroked her grandmother's cheek, staring long and hard into her eyes. "I love you so much. I hope you know that."
"I do, dear. And I feel exactly the same way." She patted Charity's face, a glimmer of wetness in her
She perched on the edge of the sofa, hugging her knees. "Maybe you're just jealous."
He muttered under his breath and yanked her back up. He turned her to face him, his hands tight on her arms. "I'm not playing here, Charity. Rigan Gallagher is dangerous. I don't want you seeing him."
Her smile faded. "You're hardly my father, Mitch. I'll see whomever I please."
He softened his hold. "Not him. Trust me. He has a reputation."
She pulled out of his grasp and sank to the sofa, rubbing her arms where he'd gripped her. "So do you," she whispered, looking up with hurt in her eyes. "Especially with me."
He drew in a long breath and exhaled. He sat down beside her, his voice quiet. "You're right. I haven't exactly proven my virtue where you're concerned. I'm not excusing what you did, but I'm the one who gave in. I won't deny you were the temptation, but my actions ... ," he rubbed his palms over his face, "they were wrong." He looked up, his eyes heavy with remorse. "Will you forgive me?"
She blinked. "It's no crime to be attracted to someone, Mitch. It was just a kiss. There's no sin in that."
He stood. "There is when you're in love with someone else."
She jumped up and restrained him with a hand on his arm. Her eyes were naked with pain. "I've died a thousand deaths over what I did to my sister, Mitch. And to you. But she's gone, and I'm still here." A glimmer of hope flickered across her face. "Attraction is the first step to falling in love, you know."
He stared for a long moment, then quietly removed her hand from his coat. "Not for me, Charity. I want more."
She moved away and turned, her eyes chilling him to the bone. "What more could there possibly be?"
He studied her. A little girl with the look of a woman, bent on a track that would destroy her soul. His smile was sad. "I only hope and pray you find out."
She stood stock-still for a full moment after the door closed behind him. Nothing but the cold click of the lock, a rush of frigid air, and the heat of her anger. She pressed a finger to her temple, her gaze singeing the paisley swirl of the worn parlor rug. She straightened her shoulders and moved down the hall, head high and fists clenched. Stopping briefly outside the kitchen door, she drew in a deep breath, heavy with the aroma of Bridget's boiled coffee. She flexed her fingers and practiced a smile, wide and relaxed. There was no need to worry Grandmother.
"Dinner was wonderful," she said, breezing into the room with a warm smile.
Bridget looked up with worry lines etched between her brows. "Is Mitch all right?"
Charity rounded the table to collect the dishes. She blew out the candles. "Of course."
Bridget hesitated. "Are you?"
Charity laughed as she unloaded the dishes onto the counter. "Yes, dear one, I am. It was a lovely evening." She turned. "Mima in bed?"
Bridget nodded.
"Well, you need to head that way too. I'll take care of the dishes."
"We'll do them together." Bridget moved to the sink.
Charity squeezed an arm around her grandmother's shoulder. "No, ma'am. You look as exhausted as Mima. I'm doing them, no argument." She pulled away to rub the sleeves of her blouse. "But I do believe I'll change into something warm first. You might just lose those impatiens tonight, Grandmother."
A sad smile curved Bridget's lips. "It's time, I suppose. Unto everything there is a season ..."
Charity kissed her grandmother's forehead. "One season ending just means another is beginning." She gently stroked her grandmother's cheek, staring long and hard into her eyes. "I love you so much. I hope you know that."
"I do, dear. And I feel exactly the same way." She patted Charity's face, a glimmer of wetness in her
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