Driftwood Cottage by Sherryl Woods Page A

out of his head. Every time he drew up a line of attack in another case, he heard her voice questioning his tactics and his motives. It was getting annoying.
    In fact, just being unable to get her out of his head was annoying. The only way he could think of to change that was to put his social life on a fast track.
    For the next couple of weeks, he spent his eveningshitting every bar in town with various colleagues from his law firm. Though he met plenty of attractive, intelligent professional women, not a one of them held a candle to Heather. Her image haunted him.
    He reached for the phone a half-dozen times a day, tempted to call so he could hear the sound of her voice. He even had a built-in excuse, wanting to get updates on their son. It was downright pitiful that he even considered resorting to that.
    In the end, he resisted because he knew she’d see through the excuse. Anyone in his family could tell him what was going on with little Mick. It wouldn’t take frequent calls to Heather to learn how his son was doing. Besides, she left him regular messages herself. They were too short, too unsatisfactory. What he needed was a real conversation.
    His inability to get on with his life clearly meant that he needed to try harder.
    The next woman he met, he asked on a date, then spent an evening in one of Baltimore’s finest restaurants being bored out of his mind. It seemed all she cared about was whether he’d met any of the stars in Clint Wilder’s movie. He repeated the pattern for another couple of weeks, then finally conceded he was wasting his time.
    On the Saturday morning of Easter weekend, he got in his car and drove once again to Chesapeake Shores, using the excuse that it had been too long since he’d seen his son. He somehow managed to blame Heather for that, even though several of her messages had included an offer to bring little Mick for a visit.
    When he arrived at the house, he found Gram in the kitchen with all of the kids coloring Easter eggs. Thoughthe room was a disaster and Gram looked harried, her eyes were twinkling when she spotted him. She handed off his son, who clung happily to his neck. The boy’s smile of delight at Connor’s arrival immediately improved his mood.
    “Get out of those fancy clothes and come in here to help me,” Gram commanded. “If I’m not careful, I’m going to wind up with my hair dyed pink.”
    “It would be beautiful,” Caitlyn told her solemnly.
    “We can do mine, too,” Carrie said. “But I want blue.” She danced around. “Don’t you think I’d be beautiful?”
    “Gorgeous,” Connor agreed, laughing. He felt lighter than he had in days. His twin nieces, with their unexpected observations and uncensored comments, could lift his spirits in a heartbeat. Spending time with them and the rest of the family was exactly what he’d needed.
    “I’ll be right back,” he promised his grandmother.
    Taking little Mick with him, he changed into an old T-shirt and a pair of cutoff jeans, then hurried back to the kitchen and settled his son in a high chair.
    “How’d you get roped into doing this?” he asked Gram.
    “Everyone’s working today,” she explained. “It’s a busy weekend in town, so Shanna, Heather, Bree and your mother are all at their shops. Abby went to help Bree deliver flowers. It seems everybody in the universe is sending an Easter bouquet to someone in Chesapeake Shores this weekend.”
    “Where’s Dad?”
    “Mick took one look at the mess in here and mumbled something about checking on one of his Habitat for Humanity sites.” She chuckled. “I’ll have my revenge,though. Once we’re finished, I can walk off and leave this for him to clean up. That’s the joy of being able to go back to my own place these days. Now, you help your son. He doesn’t quite have the knack for dying eggs, instead of his hands.”
    “Help me, too, Uncle Connor,” Davy pleaded.
    Henry, who was still adjusting to this boisterous new family of his,