Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (28 page)

Jamie tugged his mother into the elevator with a chuckle. “Yeah, he is, Mom, but not in Logan’s eyes, I’m afraid.” He nodded to the attendant with a smile. “I guess it’s back up to six, Horace.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. MacKenna,” the elderly man replied, closing the doors with a clunk.

“Why doesn’t he like him?” his sister asked, her curious gaze a mirror reflection of her mother’s.

“I’m not really sure,” Jamie said, slipping a loose arm around
both of their shoulders. “But I suspect he has a good reason.” He gave his sister’s neck a tweak as the elevator started to rise.

And her name is Caitlyn McClare.

Alli feasted on her cioppino while her eyes feasted on Nick Barone, the man who was stealing her heart by the moment as she dined on a splintered dock at Fisherman’s Wharf—formerly Meiggs’ Wharf. Seated on a weathered whiskey barrel with Lottie asleep in his lap, he laughed and chatted with crusty Italian fishermen who spun tales of crabbing beyond the Golden Gate while stirring hot cauldrons of stew. Steam curled from the pots into a heaven so blindingly blue, the bay had no choice but to shimmer in response, aquamarine waters bobbing with a sea of salt-incrusted vessels, from fishing dinghies to schooners skimming the sky.

Pushing her empty bowl away on the rickety crate table, Allison perched stiff arms to the edge of her barrel stool and leaned back, eyes closed and head tilted to absorb the rays of the sun. Somewhere a foghorn bellowed while seagulls squawked overhead, in beautiful harmony with Nick’s husky laughter. Allison drew in a brisk breath, inhaling sea air ripe with the aroma of fresh crab, shrimp, and mussels steeped in a rich broth of tomatoes and wine. A wharf specialty, all laced with basil and oregano that tingled her tongue with a taste she wouldn’t soon forget.

Nick’s hearty chuckles interrupted her reverie, and tingles of yet another kind shivered her skin. Tugging a tattered towel bib from her neck, she watched as his massive hands idly stroked Lottie’s silky curls while he talked to the men. The contrast of a giant of a man tender with so tiny a child melted her heart as thoroughly as the chocolate ringing Lottie’s little mouth. “I promised I’d take her to the wharf to smell and taste the chocolate at Ghirardelli,”
he’d explained when he’d asked her to go along, “and I promise
you
it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

Somehow I doubt it.
Her gaze strayed to Nick’s full mouth, wide in a grin over something the fishermen said, and her stomach took a tumble, confirming what she’d felt for Roger had been nothing like this. As gentle and tender on the inside as he was gruff and big on the outside, Nick Barone had a knack for making her feel cherished and safe. Just like he did Lottie, Miss Penny, and everyone else at Mercy House, who all but worshiped him as much as she. In the three weeks since they’d discovered their deeper feelings, she’d seen him almost every single day, and Alli had never been happier. Whether dinner and card games with Miss Penny and the girls or sharing a plate of Hunan chicken at Ming Chao’s, loving Nick felt as natural and warm and satisfying as spicy fish stew savored on a crisp September day. And merciful heavens—his kisses?

“You didn’t eat your chocolate.”

She blinked, heat stinging her cheeks when she realized she’d been distracted over tasting something else. As if privy to her thoughts, he grinned, the fishermen suddenly nowhere in sight. Shifting Lottie to his shoulder, he reached across the crate to pick up the chocolate bar he’d bought for them. Eyes fused to hers, he took a bite before slowly prodding the rest against her lips, his thumb grazing her mouth along with the candy. “I don’t blame you,” he whispered, the glint of humor in his eyes edging toward smoky. “It’s not what I’m hungry for either.”

Blood broiled her cheeks and he laughed out loud, caressing her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “I’m crazy about you, Al, you know that?” He tapped her chin. “Come on, Princess, time to get you and Miss La-di-da home.”

“Oh, drat—already?” Alli huffed out a sigh that was only part jest. Hopping up, she stood on tiptoe to kiss Lottie’s cheek before looping her arm through Nick’s and taking a step forward.

“Hey.” He tugged her back so firmly, she all but bounced off his chest, his body anchored like one of the posts on the peer. “Excuse me,” he said with a thick jag of his brow, “but I don’t believe this little dickens bought you chocolate or cioppino, did she?”

A grin inched across her lips as she perched on tiptoe to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Nick,” she said in her best sing-song voice.

“That’s better.” He deposited a kiss to her hair and Lottie’s before steering them along the dock where fishermen mended their nets. Seemingly endless rows of feluccas—Italian fishing boats—lined the wharf while snippets of Italian chatter and laughter floated in the air. The rich sound of Italian arias from Verdi and Puccini swelled in the sky like seagulls and sandpipers gliding over the bay, as sweet as the smell of chocolate from the Ghirardelli factory one block away. The sun slowly sank into the horizon, washing wooden shacks and ramshackle storefronts with a pink haze that lent a watercolor effect, causing the city she loved to glow as much as Alli herself.

Navigating the cobblestone streets in comfortable silence, Nick smiled down at Alli when Lottie snorted in her sleep. “I suppose we tuckered her out, but it’s a sleep well earned as pushy as the little tyke’s been, badgering me to take her to the wharf.” He gently pushed a stray curl back under Alli’s feathered straw hat. “Kind of like you with Chinatown, Miss McClare.”

“But look how much fun we’ve had,” she defended, peering up with a sassy smile. “Even Miss Penny says you’re not as grumpy, although I beg to differ if a cable car’s involved.”

His lips twitched despite a stern tone. “Yeah? Well I’d like to see how chipper you’d be if your supper rolled in your stomach faster than a cable car on its rails.”

She shook her head with a cluck of her tongue, sympathy
edging her tone. “Yes, well, nobody’s perfect, Nick, so I’ll just have to accept it as one of your flaws.”

“
One
of my flaws?” He halted her beneath a tungsten lamp while a Ghirardelli horse and wagon rumbled by. “What else?” he demanded with a slack of his hip.

She stared up through a squint laced with a smile. “Well, for starters, you’ve gone from being a pain in the posterior to a pain in the neck now that I always have to look up.”

The edge of his mouth crooked. “Pain in the neck, huh? I’d say that’s payback, Princess, for all those whacks with the stick.”

“And then there’s that thing you do with your ear when you’re hiding something.”

His jaw dropped. “What thing with my ear?”

She tilted her head. “Oh, you know, when I ask about your day and you say it was fine?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

She huffed out a sigh. “Goodness, Nick, you and I should be able to talk about anything, but whenever I get too close to something you don’t want me to know, you tug on your left ear.”

He stared, eyes gaping along with his mouth. “I do not.”

She hefted her chin. “You most certainly do.”

He shook his head and started walking, his long stride leaving her in the dust.

She scurried to catch up. “And you get grumpy and rude when I tell you the truth.”

“Rude?”
He halted to sear her with a glare while shifting Lottie to the other shoulder.

Folding her arms, she angled a brow, lips pursed in a schoolmarm manner.

Air blasted through his teeth before he mauled the bridge of his nose. “Okay, you might have me on grumpy and rude, but I am
not
afraid of the truth.”

Eyes softening, she disarmed him with a gentle squeeze of his hand, twining her fingers through his. “Aren’t you?” she whispered. “Like admitting you’re still angry at God?”

With a grind of his teeth, he wrenched his hand free, fingers flying toward the lobe of his ear before they quickly bypassed to knead the back of his neck. “Blast it, Allison, why do you keep bringing this up? It’s not important to me.”

Her stomach lurched just like it always did when Nick and Uncle Logan were in the same room. Unbidden, moisture welled. “I know,” she whispered, “but it’s important to me, and therein, the flaw.”

He flinched as if the truth of her statement made his left earlobe itch. Dropping his gaze, he expelled a weary sigh while his fingers kneaded his temple. “All right,” he whispered, the steam apparently seeped from his ire. “I promise to try”—a knot ducked in his throat near the size of the fist clenched to Lottie’s back—“to talk to God again.” His eyes lifted to hers, and the raw love she saw in their depths twisted her heart. “But only because it’s important to you.”

She blinked to clear a sheen of tears, lifting her hand to caress the side of his jaw. “It’s important to
me
, Nick, because it’s important
for
you,” she said quietly, love swelling for this unlikely captor of her heart. “I long to see you free from that haunting pain I sometimes see in your eyes.” She fisted his waistcoat and tugged him down while lifting on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. “Because I love you, Detective Barone, despite the best efforts of my stick.”

With an abrupt sweep of his mighty arm, he jerked her close and tucked his chin on top of her head, the sweet warmth of Lottie between them filling her with a contentment unlike any she’d known. “And I, you, Princess.” His voice was a husky rasp as his fingers gently fondled the nape of her neck. “Against my better judgment and all common sense, temper, sticks, and uncles.” He
pressed a kiss to her nose before straightening once again. “So . . . what else?”

With another fold of her arms, she tucked a fist to her mouth, face screwed in thought. “Well, there is one last thing,” she said with a scrunch of her nose, “but I don’t suppose it’s too bad.”

He cocked a hip, prodding Alli on with an impatient wave of his hand. “And that is . . . ?”

She nibbled her lip. “You taste like animal crackers,” she confessed, fighting the squirm of a smile. “You know, like I’m kissing Bobby O’Toole.”

Mr. C.P. popped up with a truly vintage scowl. “And who the devil is Bobby O’Toole?”

She fluttered her lashes. “Why, the little neighbor boy two houses over, just turned six. Absolutely adores animal crackers, you know.” She looked both ways before leaning in, voice lowered to a loud whisper. “I think he likes me.”

He grunted, a smile working its way across his lips. “I should have a talk with the boy.”

“You know, you should—you two have a lot in common.” She sighed. “He threw the most outrageous tantrum last week, right in the middle of the street.” She tilted her head, her smile far away as if recalling a fond memory. “Reminded me of you.”

A massive shadow loomed before he tugged her in close. “You got something against animal crackers, Princess?” he whispered, gaze fixed on her mouth.

She gulped, stomach swooping like gulls over the bay. “O-only w-with B-bobby O’Toole.”

“Good.” He unearthed the half-eaten chocolate bar and offered her a bite before he took one of his own, slipping it back in his pocket. Eyes never leaving hers, he slowly chewed and lifted her to his waist as if she weighed nothing at all. Both her feet and heart
dangled as he braced her with one arm while holding Lottie in the other. “How’s this?” he whispered, lips hovering so close, the scent of chocolate on his breath made her dizzy. “I love you, Allison Erin McClare,” he whispered, mouth skimming hers with the utmost tenderness before he deepened his kiss with a soft moan.

“Hey, I smell chocolate . . .”

A groggy voice rose between them, and Allison giggled. “You do, do you?” she said, wobbling so much when Nick put her down, that she clung to his arm. “Well, if you ask really nicely, Miss La-di-da, I’ll just bet Mr. Cranky Pants will give you some.”

“Cranky Pants?” Nick said with a growl, “I’ll show you cranky.” He nipped at Allison’s waist with one hand while tickling Lottie’s stomach with the other, unleashing squeals and laughter from them both.

“I want chocolate!” Giggling, Lottie did a little jig in Nick’s arms, her chubby legs thumping against his side. “Can I have some, Mr. Nick, please, please?”

He glanced at the horizon where a pool of fuchsia seeped into the inky waters. “I suppose, but only a bite. Miss Penny will whack me with her stick for ruining your dinner.”

“Ooooo . . . I hope she lets me do it instead,” Allison said with dance of her brows.

He grinned. “Me too. I’m in the mood to disarm you with a chocolate kiss or two.”

Lottie wiggled. “Can I have a chocolate kiss, Mr. Nick?”

“You bet, La-di-da.” Breaking the chocolate into threes, he handed them each a piece before popping the last in his mouth. With care, he cupped little Lottie’s face in his mammoth hand and gently pressed a sweet peck to her cheek.

“Mmm . . . you smell good!” she said with a giggle.

“How ’bout me, Mr. Nick?” Hands clasped to her back, Allison offered a saucy grin.

He gave her a shuttered gaze that made her mouth go dry. “With pleasure, Miss McClare,” he whispered, dragging her close to graze her mouth with his own. Woozy from the scent of both chocolate and Nick, Allison swayed on her feet, her breathing shallow when he finally pulled away. Eyes smoky, he slowly traced his finger down the line of her jaw. “And I mean that in the truest sense of the word.”