Читать книгу Temporary Nanny - Carrie Weaver - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

KATY CONCENTRATED on the man’s deep- brown eyes, where pain and a hint of anger lurked. It kept her from staring at his arm.

“I’m Katy Garner and this is my son, Jake. I’m very sorry for, um, stomping on your foot and being…rude.”

His eyes narrowed, as if he had another word for her behavior. But he didn’t say it. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned on the doorjamb.

“Royce McIntyre. Apology accepted.”

Katy hesitated. What now? He’d accepted her apology. But what about the pain she’d caused? Could she really erase it with an apology?”

“Thanks for the Rice Krispies Treats,” Jake said. “They were really good.”

“No problem.”

Jake grinned his big, toothy grin. “You’re the first adult who’s ever gotten my message.”

The man shrugged. “Simple Morse code.”

“Yeah, but nobody else seems to get it.”

Katy interrupted their mutual appreciation. “I guess I overreacted when you shoved your foot in the door. There’ve been some break-ins in the area lately. I’m still a little uncomfortable with the way you met my son. Jake isn’t normally allowed to talk to strangers.”

“Hey, he’s the one who initiated contact. And how could I know for sure he was a kid?”

“Ask?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. Shrugging, there was a hint of humor in his eyes. “I guess there’s that. I’m not very up on approaching kids, which should come as a great relief to you. Now that you mention it, I see your point about caution.” His eyes narrowed. “And yet you allow him to be home alone?”

Katy swallowed hard at the thought of Jake being alone and all the things that could have happened. They’d been fortunate that Royce McIntyre, on second inspection, seemed fairly decent.

Blinking back her frustration, Katy longed for the good old days when situations like this hadn’t been a problem. The days when her friend, Karen, had lived across the hall and could pinch-hit during emergencies. But Karen had moved in with her boyfriend across town, leaving a void not easily filled, both as a friend and a backup system.

“We had a communication problem with the sitter and he was alone part of the afternoon this week. I assure you it won’t happen again. Thank you for, um, entertaining him.”

“Turns out I needed to be entertained, too.” He pushed away from the jamb and extended his right hand. “Thanks, Jake. You really had me going.”

Jake shook his hand, his eyes as big as silver dollars when they traveled to his left arm. “Were you hurt in the war?”

The man stiffened. “No. A mining accident.”

“Jake, that’s not a nice thing to ask.” Katy’s face warmed. As if the man needed to be reminded of what had to be a traumatic event. From the looks of the tender, pink skin at his wrist, it had been recent trauma. “I’m sorry if he put you on the spot. And I’m sorry I wasn’t…more welcoming.”

“He has an honest curiosity. Nothing wrong with that. It’s better than being ignored…or worse.”

Like being stomped on and having the door slammed in his face.

There had to be a way to make this better. To somehow undo the hurt she’d caused. Katy shifted, uncomfortable with the solution that came to mind. “Do you like cheese enchiladas?”

He hesitated.

“It’s not a trick question. A simple yes or no will do.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good. I’m making a batch and there’s way too much for just two people. I can bring down a…”

The wariness was back in his eyes. As if he thought she was too uncomfortable with his injury to sit across a dinner table from him. How could she tell the man it had nothing to do with him?

“It’s okay. I’m good.” He started to close the door.

Katy took a deep breath. She had to get past this. If not for her own sake, then for Jake’s. She didn’t want him to grow up being afraid of every shadow. Cautious yes, afraid no.

She stuck her foot in the gap. “Please come to dinner tonight?”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“No, it’s not okay.” She managed a small smile. “Please allow me to do this. We’ll eat in, say, forty-five minutes?”

“Goodbye.” He nudged her shoe out of the opening with his toe and quietly closed the door.

Was that a yes or a no? She’d assume yes.

“Good. We’ll see you in forty-five minutes,” she called through the closed door.

ROYCE PAUSED OUTSIDE the Garners’ place, a bottle of wine cradled on his left arm.

What in the hell was he doing here?

He was tempted to return to his apartment. Nobody had to ever know he’d been here.

But what would he do? Eat another bowl of cold cereal? Then maybe leave another voice mail for Michael? The thought left him feeling so hollow, he knocked on the door before he could change his mind.

The door opened almost instantly.

“Hi, Royce. C’mon in.” Jake’s hair was plastered damply against his head.

A pang of regret made Royce hesitate. Michael had adopted a similar hairstyle at about the same age. And now his son was a grown man, forging a career in stock-car racing, too busy to return calls from his old man. Or too alienated.

Royce was acutely aware of the passage of time. Funny, but when he’d worked out of the country, he’d sometimes felt as if the rest of the world went on hold until he got back. Children shouldn’t grow, parents shouldn’t age, ex-wives shouldn’t remarry.

Royce suppressed the thought as he followed Jake inside.

Katy hurried into the room, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

“Right on time.” There was relief in her voice, but her smile was strained.

He handed her the bottle of wine. “I, um, figured it might be okay with enchiladas. But if you don’t drink, that’s okay, I won’t be offended.”

“This looks perfect. I’ll get wineglasses and you can pour, if that’s okay?”

Royce almost broke out into a cold sweat until he remembered the bottle had a twist- off top. By bracing the bottle between his left arm and chest, he could manage. A corkscrew might have required more dexterity than he could currently claim.

Jake watched, his dark eyes solemn. Finally, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

Royce cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how graphic he should be. “Yeah, sometimes. But the weird part is that my left hand itches like crazy. I go to scratch it and realize it’s not there anymore.”

Jake wrinkled his nose.

Royce glanced at Katy, checking her reaction. No obvious signs of disgust. She seemed to be absorbed in cooking. Her gaze met his, then slid away.

“Did they let you keep it?” the boy asked.

“Keep what?” He turned his attention to Jake. “My hand? Nope. It was blown to smithereens.” So much for not getting too graphic. But the kid had asked.

Jake seemed to digest that information. “Oh.”

“Jake, would you please set the table?” Katy handed him three colorful stoneware plates. “Silverware for everyone, then a soda for you. Special occasion.”

The kid’s whoop of excitement made Royce smile. “It takes so little to make them happy at that age.”

“He won’t be so excited when I remind him he’s grounded for his part in this escapade. He disobeyed the rules.”

“I’m sorry I got him in trouble.”

“He’s usually a good boy, but there are moments when he’s a handful. Do you have kids?” She held up a hand. “No, don’t answer that. Jake’s grilled you enough already.”

Royce smiled. “I don’t mind. I have a grown son, Michael. We’re not close, but I thought I’d reconnect with him while I’m stateside.”

“Stateside?”

“Yeah, I was working in Russia when the accident happened. People tend to assume it was something cloak-and-dagger with the Russian Mafia. Truth is, I was welding and there was a propane leak. Sparks from a welder don’t mix well with combustibles.”

She made a face. “How horrible.”

“It wasn’t fun. I thought I was dead, so waking up in a German hospital was a real bonus.”

“And probably every day after that.”

“Not quite…but it’s getting better. Jake’s been a welcome distraction.”

She hesitated. “Why did you answer him? I mean, it’s a little unusual for a grown man to play spy with a boy.”

“Hey, you don’t think I’m some sort of weirdo, do you?”

“No, not at all,” she quickly assured him. Almost too quickly.

“In case you have any lingering doubts, I have both Russian and U.S. government clearance for my work abroad. I bet I’m the safest guy on the block, maybe even the state.”

“That’s good to know.” She wiped down the kitchen counter. “Does your son live in Phoenix?”

“Michael’s based out of Charlotte. He’s busy becoming the next phenomenon of the racing world.”

“Wait, you said your name is McIntyre? Is your son the Michael McIntyre?”

“Yes. You’ve heard of him?” Though his voice rang with pride, Royce knew he couldn’t take credit for Michael’s accomplishments. Tess deserved that.

“Who hasn’t? But I’m a Ryan Pearce fan myself. I grew up around cars. My dad was a ringman at car shows and I followed in his footsteps. I help keep track of the bids and bidders and I occasionally do the calling when the auctioneer needs a break.”

“I imagine that takes a special talent.”

“Talking really, really fast.” Laughter transformed her face and made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Combined with her upturned nose, she looked a bit like a mischievous elf. “Seriously, I love what I do, both as ringman and backup auctioneer. It requires a working knowledge of classic cars and the ability to read people, work a crowd, anticipate eventualities. I’ve heard some people refer to it as a gift.”

“I bet.”

“The only drawback is the long hours leading up to an auction and the occasional out-of-town event. At first, there weren’t many of those. But since we’ve expanded, I’m spending one, maybe two weekends a month on the road. That makes child-care arrangements tricky. And I hate being away from Jake.”

Royce opened his mouth to urge her to make the most of her time with her son, to move heaven and earth to be with him every moment she could. Otherwise, she’d wake up and Jake would be grown and gone. But he didn’t usually give unsolicited advice.

“I guess that makes life complex,” he said instead.

She nodded. “I have a part-time nanny who coordinates with my mom. I’m lucky I was able to work something out between the two of them. Otherwise it would cost me an arm and a leg.”

“No doubt.” He’d never really thought about child care. But he bet Tess sure had. More and more, he realized how much he owed her. And thought she had more to show for her life than all his adventures in foreign lands. She’d raised a terrific son, while Royce had let go of everything that mattered.

“Are you okay?” Katy asked.

“Yes, fine.” He smiled, trying to chase away his regrets.

Katy got pot holders from a drawer and removed the enchiladas from the oven.

Inhaling, Royce said, “Man, I haven’t smelled anything that good in a long time.”

Katy grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“In a platonic way.”

“Too bad. The other way’s a lot more fun.” Flirtations had always been a handy distraction in the past.

But Katy didn’t seem to think so, he could tell. Her posture was wary.

“Sorry, I was out of line.” Royce hurried to reassure her. “I’ve forgotten what it’s like outside the ex-pat world.”

Her stance relaxed. “I can always use another friend. Romance is out of the question.”

Royce opened his mouth to ask her why, then shut it. It was none of his business. And it was time he faced his problems instead of trying to lose himself in the closest woman who smelled nice.

“Dinner’s ready. Would you mind getting the salad out of the fridge, Royce?”

“Sure.” He liked that she treated him like anyone else. It made it easier to pretend he was like anyone else. Removing a green salad from the refrigerator, he placed it on the table next to the pan of enchiladas. There were already steaming bowls of Mexican- style rice and refried beans out.

“Jake, dinner’s ready,” she called. Turning to Royce, she said, “We’re pretty informal. Serve yourself and have a seat.”

Jake walked into the kitchen, then stood, waiting patiently. Either Mexican food wasn’t the kid’s favorite or Katy had done a good job teaching him manners.

Royce’s stomach growled as he loaded his plate. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this. There isn’t much good Mexican food in Russia.”

“You’ve been to Russia? What’s it like? Is it freezing all the time? Are there really babushkas?” Jake paused to take a breath.

Katy frowned as they sat at the homey table. “Whoa, Jake, give the man a chance to sit down. One question at a time.”

Royce’s brain ached from the effort of crafting answers that would satisfy the boy. “Yes, I lived in Russia for several years. It’s pretty darn cold all over, but particularly in Siberia. And there are babushkas. In the larger cities, the less fortunate ones beg.”

“Beg for what?”

“Money, food, whatever they can get.”

“Wow.” Jake’s eyes were wide as he processed the information. “I want to go there someday.”

“The people are warm and practical. They’ve lived through some rough times, but they keep plugging along.”

“I’d miss my mom if I went that far away. Did you miss your mom?”

Royce cleared his throat. “No, my mom died when I was about your age.”

“I’m sorry,” Katy murmured.

“Who raised you?” Jake asked.

“Jake—”

“It’s okay,” Royce said. “My dad raised me and my younger sister. I missed my mom a lot at first, but after a while I got used to it.”

“I bet your dad played catch with you. Do you like sports?” Jake asked.

“Sure. Basketball, soccer, hockey…”

“Baseball?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“It’s fun. But I get picked last for the teams at school.”

“That sucks.” Royce was trying hard to relate. Most things had come easily to him as a kid, baseball being no different.

“Yeah, it does suck. I’m picked last because I throw like a girl and don’t know how to bat.”

Katy patted his hand. “I’ll play catch with you tomorrow. We can work on that throwing.”

Jake wrinkled his nose. “You throw like a girl, too.” He turned to Royce. “Will you teach me?”

“Sorry, kid, I don’t play catch these days.” He raised his left arm. “Kind of hard one-handed.”

“It only takes one hand.”

“I’m sorry.” Royce shifted in his chair. A few Rice Krispies Treats were one thing, regular outings another. There was no way he wanted the kid depending on him like that. “I’m just not the guy for the job.”

Never had been, never would be.