introducing Cam to the local clergy.
“Just taking a break, Reverend. You’ll still find plenty of sweets to tempt you at my booth.” She started walking away before she’d finished speaking. When Cam fell in beside her, she said, “We can talk at Angel’s Rest. There’s a gazebo across the footbridge and behind that stand of cottonwoods. We’ll have some privacy there.”
He smirked. “Some things never change, do they? Still afraid to be seen with me.”
The unfairness of the comment stung her. He had been the one to insist they keep their relationship a secret, not her. At one point she’d been more than willing to tell her parents about him and to go public with her love for Cameron Murphy, but oh, no. He wouldn’t have it. He’d wanted to protect her reputation.
At least, he’d wanted that until the fight with Andrew Cook that sent him to juvenile detention. After that, he didn’t care about anything or anyone but himself.
Rather than respond, she gave him a withering look and continued toward the footbridge, her temper sizzling, aware that he followed half a step behind. How dare he say that she didn’t want to be seen with him . He’s the one who rejected her. Rejected their child. Now he shows up here out of the blue, outs her, and wants to be Lori’s father? After he’d spent most of Lori’s life being daddy to somebody else? The nerve of the man!
She flexed her fingers against the itch to whirl around and slap him. No, to make a fist and punch him, over and over again, while she railed at him, telling him exactly what she thought of him. That wouldn’t do. If she got started, she wouldn’t stop, and a public street was not the place for what she needed to say.
Not that privacy was possible now. Not after he’d said what he’d said within earshot of Pauline Roosevelt. Why in heaven’s name had he approached her in public? Had he intentionally wanted to blow up her world?
With each step and every new realization of ways in which his action would affect her, her temper soared. By the time they crossed the creek and approached the gazebo, she was about to explode. She stepped into the shelter and rounded on him, spitting out her words like machine-gun fire. “How dare you!”
“Where is she?” he shot back.
“How dare you waltz into town after all this time and try to ruin our lives!”
“What poison did you feed to her about me?”
“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?”
“Why did she run away that morning?”
“Why did she run away?” Sarah repeated, blinking back furious tears that made her all the angrier. Be damned if she’d let him make her cry. Not again. The ocean of tears she cried two decades ago was enough. “I’ll tell you why she ran away. Because you’re a loser, Cam Murphy! She doesn’t need you in her life. She doesn’t want you in her life. You aren’t worth having in her life!”
He clamped his jaw shut. A muscle ticked at his temple, and at his sides, his hands fisted. In the tiny part of her brain that remained rational, Sarah waited to feel fear that he’d use those fists against her—like father, like son. That fear never came, because deep down inside, Sarah had never believed that Cam was anything like Brian Murphy.
With that reminder of his reality, she felt a pang of shame for the cruelty of her words, but she ruthlessly buried it, saying, “And now you’ve gone and spouted off in front of half the town that Lori has Murphy blood.”
He took a step toward her. “I won’t let you keep her from me anymore.”
“What? Keep her from you! You blew her off. Remember that afternoon when I visited you in juvie jail? When I told you I was pregnant? You replied in no uncertain terms that you wanted nothing to do with … and I quote … the mistake . I haven’t kept her from you. You. Did. Not. Want. Her!”
A muscle worked his jaw. “Well, I want her now. She’s my daughter!”
Sarah put the frost of February in her voice.
“Just taking a break, Reverend. You’ll still find plenty of sweets to tempt you at my booth.” She started walking away before she’d finished speaking. When Cam fell in beside her, she said, “We can talk at Angel’s Rest. There’s a gazebo across the footbridge and behind that stand of cottonwoods. We’ll have some privacy there.”
He smirked. “Some things never change, do they? Still afraid to be seen with me.”
The unfairness of the comment stung her. He had been the one to insist they keep their relationship a secret, not her. At one point she’d been more than willing to tell her parents about him and to go public with her love for Cameron Murphy, but oh, no. He wouldn’t have it. He’d wanted to protect her reputation.
At least, he’d wanted that until the fight with Andrew Cook that sent him to juvenile detention. After that, he didn’t care about anything or anyone but himself.
Rather than respond, she gave him a withering look and continued toward the footbridge, her temper sizzling, aware that he followed half a step behind. How dare he say that she didn’t want to be seen with him . He’s the one who rejected her. Rejected their child. Now he shows up here out of the blue, outs her, and wants to be Lori’s father? After he’d spent most of Lori’s life being daddy to somebody else? The nerve of the man!
She flexed her fingers against the itch to whirl around and slap him. No, to make a fist and punch him, over and over again, while she railed at him, telling him exactly what she thought of him. That wouldn’t do. If she got started, she wouldn’t stop, and a public street was not the place for what she needed to say.
Not that privacy was possible now. Not after he’d said what he’d said within earshot of Pauline Roosevelt. Why in heaven’s name had he approached her in public? Had he intentionally wanted to blow up her world?
With each step and every new realization of ways in which his action would affect her, her temper soared. By the time they crossed the creek and approached the gazebo, she was about to explode. She stepped into the shelter and rounded on him, spitting out her words like machine-gun fire. “How dare you!”
“Where is she?” he shot back.
“How dare you waltz into town after all this time and try to ruin our lives!”
“What poison did you feed to her about me?”
“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?”
“Why did she run away that morning?”
“Why did she run away?” Sarah repeated, blinking back furious tears that made her all the angrier. Be damned if she’d let him make her cry. Not again. The ocean of tears she cried two decades ago was enough. “I’ll tell you why she ran away. Because you’re a loser, Cam Murphy! She doesn’t need you in her life. She doesn’t want you in her life. You aren’t worth having in her life!”
He clamped his jaw shut. A muscle ticked at his temple, and at his sides, his hands fisted. In the tiny part of her brain that remained rational, Sarah waited to feel fear that he’d use those fists against her—like father, like son. That fear never came, because deep down inside, Sarah had never believed that Cam was anything like Brian Murphy.
With that reminder of his reality, she felt a pang of shame for the cruelty of her words, but she ruthlessly buried it, saying, “And now you’ve gone and spouted off in front of half the town that Lori has Murphy blood.”
He took a step toward her. “I won’t let you keep her from me anymore.”
“What? Keep her from you! You blew her off. Remember that afternoon when I visited you in juvie jail? When I told you I was pregnant? You replied in no uncertain terms that you wanted nothing to do with … and I quote … the mistake . I haven’t kept her from you. You. Did. Not. Want. Her!”
A muscle worked his jaw. “Well, I want her now. She’s my daughter!”
Sarah put the frost of February in her voice.
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