Page 3 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

J ack took one look at Allie’s face gone pale as a soda cracker and wondered what he’d done this time to make her throw up.

“Here, use this.” He set down the bottle of wine he’d brought and yanked the plastic off the bouquet he was holding, offering it to her as a makeshift barf bag. He’d made similar offerings in college when nerves or emotion got the best of his stoic fiancée and she turned this exact shade of white.

But Allie just stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“I’m not going to throw up,” she said, waving the bag away. “I’m fine. I just—” She took a sharp breath, and her gaze darted to Paige.

Paige.

He felt a surge of pride seeing his ten-year-old daughter standing beside him looking cheerful and well-mannered in the blue dress she’d picked for the occasion.

She’d French-braided her own hair in some complicated twist Jack could never figure out.

Sensing his gaze on her, his kid gave him a grin so wide he saw the gap from the newly lost molar that he’d hidden in a silk pouch in his sock drawer.

Emotion welled in his chest, so he looked back at Allie. She’d recovered some of her color, which probably had something to do with the possessive male hand resting on her shoulder.

“Jack,” Allie began, licking her lips. “I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Wade.”

The guy slid his palm from Allie’s shoulder and reached out to shake Jack’s hand. Jack returned the handshake, impressed with himself for not feeling any twinges of jealousy at the word fiancé . He was over her, obviously. Had been over her for years, long before he’d gotten married and had a kid.

The reminder prompted Jack to offer his own introduction. “Pleasure to meet you, Wade,” he said. “This is my daughter, Paige.”

Paige stuck out her hand, beaming like she always did when given the opportunity to socialize with grownups. Still looking dumbstruck, Allie grasped the small hand in hers and gave it an awkward shake.

“I’m Paige Carpenter,” his daughter announced, her dimples on full display as she looked from Allie to Wade and back again. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Paige.” Allie gave her a nervous smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Such nice manners. How old are you?”

“Ten. How old are you?”

Allie laughed, breaking the spell that seemed to have held her for the last thirty seconds. Her face creased into familiar crinkles around her eyes and mouth, into laugh lines Jack couldn’t help noticing had grown deeper in the sixteen years since he saw her last.

Laughter he hadn’t been part of. God, had it really been that long?

“I’m thirty-six,” Allie said, answering Paige’s question at last. “Same as your dad. Please, come on in.”

She stepped back, and Jack tried not to notice the way the wine-colored dress swept around her thighs and moved over her hips. Hips that still looked full and beautifully rounded. Hips he used to grip with both hands as she moved over him, her breasts bare and?—

Jesus Christ , was he really doing this? With his kid standing beside him, and Allie’s fiancé, too, for crying out loud.

Jack looked at the fiancé, reminding himself that Allie belonged to someone else now. The guy’s suit screamed lawyer , which made perfect sense. Allie had obviously gotten what she’d wanted out of life.

So did you , his subconscious reminded him. That’s why you’re here, to rub her face in the fact that you turned out great without her.

It was a shitty thing to think, but there it was.

Jack squeezed his daughter’s shoulder as she stepped through the front door.

He followed behind her, bringing him closer to Allie than he’d been since he was twenty years old.

He stepped back quickly and turned to pick up the wine.

Then he moved past the lawyer fiancé and into a living room that was well-decorated, but small.

Smaller than he would have expected. Silky-looking throw pillows lined a leather sofa that looked vintage.

There was a crystal vase of lilies on the coffee table, and an earthy-looking clay vessel on a nearby bookshelf.

Jack remembered it from their college apartment.

Her grandma had made it, and Allie used to keep it on her desk to hold dried flowers from the first bouquet he’d ever given her.

It held something metallic now. Daisies? Stems of copper twisted up to meet petals made of iron and steel, an effect that was both artistic and tasteful. And expensive. Probably very expensive.

“They’re Kyle Midland originals,” she said when she caught him staring at the fake flowers.

“Who?”

“A local metal artist. I—Never mind.” She twisted the ring on her hand like she always used to do when she was nervous. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“So am I.” He handed her the bouquet of sunflowers he’d brought. “Thank you for inviting us to your home.”

Too late, he remembered he’d taken the bag off the flowers and they dripped water on her shoes. The Allie he used to know would have freaked out about ruining the leather, but this one didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she had plenty of other pairs of fancy shoes in her closet. That seemed likely.

Jack cleared his throat and held out the bottle of wine, feeling a little like an asshole for deliberately leaving the price tag on the edge of the label. “I brought this, too.”

The fiancé took the wine and gave him a pleasant smile that looked genuine. “Very nice,” Wade said. “I had this one at a tasting event recently. Great stuff, huh?”

Jack nodded and found himself liking the guy. “They do make a darn fine wine in that region.”

“That they do.” The fiancé’s smile looked genuine as his thumb skimmed the label that said Sunridge Vineyards in fancy script. “This will be perfect with Allie’s seafood en brodo .”

Jack glanced at Allie, who stood staring at Paige like she was some kind of exotic butterfly that had fluttered into her living room.

Seeming to sense his eyes on her, Allie turned toward him with a sheepish look. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—I, um.” She licked her lips. “Does Paige eat seafood? If not, I’m sure I can throw together chicken fingers or peanut butter and jelly or?—”

“I love seafood!” Paige looked up from the collection of photos she’d been studying on a bookshelf and grinned at Allie. “Especially salmon and shrimp.”

Allie blinked. “That’s great. You have a very refined palate.”

“Thank you,” Paige said automatically, even though Jack was pretty sure she didn’t know what palate meant. In that moment, he felt so damn proud of his kid he wanted to pick her up and squeeze her.

“You’ll love the wine,” Paige continued solemnly. “It’s very itchy with notes of tulip stem and green Crayola.”

The fiancé barked out a laugh that made Allie jump. Paige beamed, pleased with the reaction from her audience. Jack hustled to explain.

“It’s our inside joke,” he said. “Paige and I try to see who can come up with the craziest descriptors for wine. Things like ‘old shoe leather from a 1978 Birkenstock’ or ‘mango Trident gum found under the third-row bleachers at Autzen Stadium.’ Stuff like that.”

Jack had wanted Paige to know she didn’t need to aspire to be the sort of woman who sipped tea with her pinky up and spoke in condescending tones about the amuse-bouche.

From what he could guess, Allie had grown up to be one of those people.

“It’s great you’re such a fan of wine.” The fiancé was talking to Paige, not him, which made him like the guy and also made him resolve to use his name instead of branding him the fiancé like a character in a play.

“I always love talking with a fellow connoisseur,” Wade continued, smiling at Paige.

“Maybe you could give me some good pointers on wine.”

“I don’t actually drink wine,” Paige said, pronouncing actually with an extra syllable the way her mother used to do, which was crazy. Paige barely remembered her mom, so there was no way for phonetics to have fixed themselves in his daughter’s memory.

Focus on the present, Jack ordered himself as he felt a familiar tightening in his chest.

“I like grape juice, though,” Paige was saying. “And seltzer. And root beer.”

“I’m pretty sure we have at least one of those things in the fridge,” Wade said. “Would you like something to drink?”

His daughter looked back over at him, a question in her eyes. Jack nodded once before glancing at Allie to see her exchange a questioning look of her own with Wade. Allie gave the guy a quick nod, and the next thing Jack knew, he was standing alone with her in her living room.

Alone. For the first time in sixteen years. It felt awkward. And familiar. But mostly awkward.

“So,” Allie said, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the back of the sofa. “It’s wonderful to finally meet your daughter. She’s adorable. Just like I pictured her.”

Jack snort-laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Liar.”

Allie frowned. “What?”

He shook his head and took a step closer, lowering his voice so Paige wouldn’t hear. “Until five minutes ago, you had no idea I even had a daughter.”

“That’s not true!” Allie tossed her hair. “She looks just like her mother. Very beautiful.”

Jack rolled his eyes. She sounded so convincing, so sure of herself. If he hadn’t seen her face when he’d stood there on the doorstep, he might have even believed her.

“Paige’s mother died when she was eighteen months old,” he said, making Allie’s face go pale again. “And you might still be the world’s best liar, but you can’t fool me. Admit it—you haven’t cyberstalked me once in the last sixteen years.”

Allie folded her arms over her chest and met him with a level gaze he remembered with something less than fondness. “So what? Are you accusing me of that like it’s a bad thing?” She frowned. “I meant the stalking, not the lying. And I’m sorry about your w—about Paige’s mother.”

“Thank you.”

Her expression softened again, something he hadn’t seen often when they were together. The Allie he remembered never backed down, never apologized. “I mean it,” she said. “I’m really sorry.”