Page 9 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor (Curvy Wives of Cedar Falls #3)

The river carries fallen leaves downstream, crimson and gold against the dark water. Daniel's hand is warm around mine, his thumb tracing patterns on my skin. The afternoon light catches in his hair, turning the brown strands almost golden at the edges.

The thought scares me, but I'm tired of being afraid. Of holding everyone at arm's length since Dad died. Of wrapping myself in books and quiet and solitude.

A child deserves better than a mother who's afraid to live.

The festival continues behind us, the cheerful noise a counterpoint to our quiet bubble. Families stroll past, children laughing, couples holding hands. Normal life unfolding around us while we sit on this bench, suspended between strangers and something more.

"Can I ask you something else?" I say, not letting go of his hand.

Daniel turns to me, his expression open. "Of course."

"You mentioned your grandfather raised you. What happened to your parents?"

His expression shutters immediately, the openness replaced by something carefully blank. His hand tenses in mine, and for a moment I think he might pull away.

"You don't have to tell me," I add quickly. "If it's too personal."

"No, it's... you should know." He takes a deep breath. "Especially with the baby. Our family histories matter now."

He stares out at the river, gathering his thoughts. I wait, giving him the space to find his words. The music from the festival fades as the band takes a break, leaving us with just the gentle sound of moving water and distant conversation.

"My mom died when I was eight," he says finally. "Car accident. Drunk driver hit her head-on one night when she was coming home from work."

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, tightening my grip on his hand.

He nods, acknowledging but not dwelling. "Dad tried, at first. He really did. But he was never the same after she died. Started drinking more. Working less. By the time I was ten, Lou was practically raising me anyway."

Daniel's voice is steady, but I notice his free hand trembling slightly where it rests on his knee. This is costing him something to share.

"Then one day, I came home from school and found Dad packing a duffel bag. He said he needed some time away, that he was suffocating in Cedar Falls, where everything reminded him of Mom." His jaw tightens. "He promised he'd call soon, that it was just temporary. I believed him."

The river rushes past, indifferent to human pain. A group of teenagers walks by, laughing loudly about something on a phone screen. Life continuing all around us while Daniel opens a wound he clearly keeps bandaged.

"He left me with Lou and just... never came back. Called a few times the first year. Sent a birthday card or two. Then nothing." Daniel's voice has gone flat, as if he's reciting someone else's story. "Last I heard, he was in Arizona with a new family. That was about six years ago."

"Daniel..." I don't know what to say, how to respond to this revelation that explains so much about him—his independence, his fear of connection, his need to distinguish himself from his grandfather's shadow.

"It's fine," he says. "Lou was more of a father than he ever was anyway."

But I can see it's not fine in the way his shoulders have tensed, in the slight tremor that still runs through his free hand. I reach over and take that hand too, so I'm holding both of his in mine.

"It's not fine," I say quietly. "What he did was cruel. You deserved better."

Something in Daniel's facade cracks at that—just for a moment, but I see it. The hurt little boy beneath the successful doctor. The abandoned child who grew up determined never to need anyone too much.

"Yeah, well." He attempts a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "It made me who I am."

"And who is that?" I ask gently.

He meets my gaze directly, something vulnerable and honest in his green eyes. "Someone who won't walk away from his child. Ever."

This time, I believe him. Despite everything—our brief history, the circumstances of our connection—I believe him absolutely.

"I know," I say, and I mean it.

We sit in silence for a moment, still holding hands, the weight of his confession settling between us. A cool breeze skims across the river, making me shiver slightly in my denim jacket.

"Are you cold?" Daniel asks, immediately alert. "We should head back."

"I'm okay," I assure him, but I don't resist when he stands, gently pulling me up with him. He doesn't let go of my hand as we start walking back toward the heart of the festival, and I don't pull away.

"Thank you for telling me," I say as we navigate around a group of children chasing each other with sticky hands. "About your dad."

Daniel nods, his expression still guarded. "I don't talk about it much."

"I can tell." I squeeze his hand. "It helps me understand you better."

"Does it?" He glances at me, curious despite his discomfort.

"Mmm." I consider how to explain. "It makes sense now why you were so quick to promise involvement with the baby. Why you tensed up when I asked about telling your grandfather."

His step falters slightly. "How so?"

"You're determined to be different from your father. Better. And you're worried about disappointing the man who stepped up when your dad stepped out." I look up at him. "Am I wrong?"

Daniel stares at me, something like wonder in his expression. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"See through me so easily. We barely know each other."

I shrug, a little embarrassed by his intensity. "Like I said, librarian skill. Reading between the lines."

He shakes his head, not accepting the deflection. "It's more than that. You pay attention. You see people."

The compliment warms me from the inside out. "Maybe I just see you."

His eyes squint at that, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes. For a charged moment, I think he might kiss me, right here among the pumpkin displays and apple cider stands.

Instead, he clears his throat and gently tugs me toward a booth selling handmade scarves.

"You were shivering earlier. Let me buy you something warmer."

I want to protest that I don't need gifts, that my jacket is fine, but there's something sweet in his concern that stops me. "Okay."

The woman running the booth recognizes Daniel immediately. "Dr. Morrison! How's your grandfather doing? That arthritis giving him trouble?"

"He's managing. How's your husband’s blood pressure?"

"Much better since you adjusted his medication." She beams at him, then notices me beside him, our joined hands. Her eyes widen with interest. "And who's this?"

"This is Maya Sullivan," Daniel says smoothly. "We're looking for a scarf for her. Something warm."

Mrs. Tyra's gaze flicks between us, clearly filing away this new information for the Cedar Falls gossip mill. "Of course, of course. James Sullivan's daughter, yes? Such a shame about him. Wonderful teacher."

"Thank you," I say, used to this reaction even two years after Dad's death. In a town this size, grief has a long memory.

She turns to her display, selecting a soft burgundy scarf with intricate golden threads woven through it. "This would look lovely with your coloring, dear."

She's right. The red complements my pale skin and dark hair perfectly. I finger the delicate fabric. "It's beautiful."

"Try it on," Daniel encourages.

I let him take my purse while I wrap the scarf around my neck. The wool is incredibly soft against my skin, warming me instantly.

"Perfect," Daniel says, his voice gone slightly husky. His eyes linger on my face in a way that makes my cheeks warm.

"How much?" I ask Mrs. Tyra, reaching for my purse.

"Daniel's hand on my arm stops me. "My treat."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to." His eyes hold mine, sincere and warm. "Please."

Something about the simple request, the earnestness behind it, makes it impossible to refuse. I nod, and Daniel pays Mrs. Tyra, who wraps the scarf back in tissue paper with a tiny smile.

"You two enjoy the rest of the festival," she says, handing the package to Daniel. "And tell Lou I said hello, Dr. Morrison."

As we walk away, I can't help but laugh softly. "She'll tell everyone in town we're an item by dinnertime."

"Does that bother you?" Daniel asks, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

I consider the question seriously. "It probably should. But no, not really." I glance up at him. "Does it bother you?"

"Not even a little." He hands me the tissue-wrapped scarf. "Though it might make it harder to break the news about the baby when the time comes. Everyone will think we've been secretly dating."

"Maybe that's not such a bad cover story after all," I admit. "Better than the truth."

"Which is?"

"That we had amazing sex one night after too many whiskey sours, and now we're having a baby together while still figuring out if we even like each other."

Daniel chokes on a surprised laugh. "When you put it that way..." He sobers slightly. "For what it's worth, I do. Like you."

"I like you too. When you're not being an emotionally unavailable jerk who disappears after sex."

"Harsh but fair." He winces, but there's humor in his eyes. "In my defense, it was really good sex."

"So good you ran away?" I raise an eyebrow, enjoying the flush that creeps up his neck.

"So good it scared the hell out of me," he corrects, his voice dropping lower. "I'm not used to feeling that... connected to someone."

The honesty in his voice steals my next teasing remark. I look away, suddenly self-conscious. "Me neither."

We've reached the central area of the festival again, where the band has resumed playing, this time an upbeat cover of a pop song I vaguely recognize. The dance area is packed now, with people moving with enthusiastic, if not always rhythmic, energy.

"Want to dance again?" Daniel asks.

I shake my head. "I think I've had enough public exposure for one day. Besides—" I check my watch "—I should probably head home soon."