Читать книгу The Texan's Surprise Son - Cathy McDavid, Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 10
ОглавлениеThere was something surreal about sitting at the table with Jacob, lingering over breakfast while Cody played on the floor with Buster. They weren’t a family, not in the traditional sense. Yet to anyone looking through the window, they could have passed for one.
“I’m glad all Cody’s fussing didn’t wake you,” Mariana said, striving to keep her voice light and conversational.
Jacob unnerved her. His casual attire—T-shirt, jeans and bare feet—combined with his slightly tousled hair advertised just how recently he’d crawled out of bed—a bed located in the room across the hall from the one she and Cody occupied.
“He did wake me,” Jacob said over the rim of his coffee mug.
“Oh. You didn’t come out.”
“I figured you’d have a harder time getting him back to sleep if Buster and I were there distracting him.”
“You’re probably right.”
Mariana tugged self-consciously on the wrist of her long-sleeved jersey shirt. At home, she’d have stayed in her pajamas and robe until noon if the mood struck her. Here, she’d dressed in what amounted to workout clothes. Well, in her defense, she might push Cody around the block a few times in his stroller. It was good exercise.
“More toast?” Jacob held up a platter.
Mariana started to say no, then changed her mind. “Hate to see it go to waste.” She snatched up the last piece.
Cinnamon toast. Prepared to perfection. She and Cody had both gobbled up an obscene amount, downing it with fresh-squeezed orange juice. Thank goodness her stay was temporary. Another month of meals like this one and the lasagna they had for dinner last night, and she wouldn’t fit into her clothes.
“Have you always liked to cook?” she asked, resisting closing her eyes in ecstasy as she took another bite of toast.
“My mother taught me. She was quite accomplished in the kitchen. More home cooking than gourmet.”
“I didn’t realize.”
“You’re not alone. Most people took her for a socialite. Which she was. Being married to Brock calls for that. But she was a great mom, too.”
“It was sad how she died. So unexpected.”
“I’m not sure anyone ever gets over losing a loved one. You know that better than anyone.”
“Yes, but we had time to prepare.” Mariana absently twirled a spoon in her coffee. “A few months.”
“Is it really better having time or not?” He looked away as if remembering. “I sometimes wonder what I’d have done differently if Mom had months to live rather than hours.”
Such a serious conversation. Not at all what Mariana had intended when she inquired about his cooking abilities. But then, Jacob was apparently a lot deeper than she’d given him credit. Besides being intelligent and talented, he cooked, kept a semi-immaculate house, had a knack with animals and contemplated the meaning of life.
Hmm. Take away the rodeoing, and he’d be exactly the kind of man she’d always pictured herself with. Except, he did rodeo.
Which come to think of it, wasn’t so terrible. His pastime provided a built-in safeguard to prevent her from losing her heart. With that stray lock of dark hair falling attractively over his brow, she was going to need every safeguard available.
“Varoom, varoom.”
On the floor beside them, Cody made noises mimicking a roaring engine as he drove his toy truck up Buster’s neck and between his ears. Mariana saved a piece of toast crust to slip to the dog later. He’d earned a reward for his boundless patience.
Her cell phone rang, calling to her from the guest bedroom down the hall.
“Excuse me.” She started to rise, her glance darting nervously to Cody. “Can you watch him for a second?”
“Sure.”
“If not, I’ll—”
“I think I can manage to keep him out of trouble for thirty seconds.” He quirked one brow in amusement.
Good grief, he was handsome.
Pulling herself together, she dashed to the bedroom and grabbed her phone off the dresser. Her first instinct was to hurry back. She resisted, certain she’d look stupid and distrusting. The whole purpose of her staying here was to teach Jacob the skills he’d need to properly care for Cody.
Her boss’s number appeared on the phone’s display.
“Hi, Saul.”
“We have a new client I want you to meet with tomorrow. 8:00 a.m. sharp.”
It was just like him to get straight to the point. No greeting. No apologies for interrupting her scheduled day off. No inquiry as to how was she doing.
“Okay.” She dug in her purse for the notebook she always kept there and a pen. “Shoot.”
He recited a name, an address, cross streets and a phone number. “It’s not far from your house.”
Mariana didn’t tell him she wasn’t staying at her home these days. “Is she expecting me?”
“She can’t wait to meet you.”
Another client. With their cases making the news on a regular basis, people Molinas had scammed were crawling out of the woodwork.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll check in with you when I get there.”
Without so much as a simple “Thanks” or “Enjoy the rest of your day,” Saul said goodbye and hung up.
She sighed. Her boss might not be the friendly, chatty type, but he had taught her a lot since she’d started working at Hasbrough and Colletti three years ago, and—this counted for a lot—he supported her bid for junior partner.
“Let me wash the dishes,” she announced upon entering the dining area, only to come to a grinding halt, her breath trapped in her lungs.
Jacob sat with Cody on his lap. The instant her nephew spotted her, he erupted in a piercing wail.
She covered the distance in the span of a single heartbeat. “What happened?”
“He fell.”
“How?”
“He tripped on the chair leg.”
“You were supposed to be watching him.” She reached for Cody, who held out his arms to her.
“I was. I watched him trip.”
“Men,” she huffed, cradling Cody’s head and bouncing him on her hip.
“He’s fine. Buster broke his fall. If anyone’s hurt, it’s him.” Jacob stroked the dog’s head. “I only looked away for a second.”
She cut him some slack. Cody could move quickly. “It happens. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
Cody abruptly let out a second wail and attempted to hurl himself from Mariana’s grasp.
“What’s wrong?” She glanced about and spotted the cause of his distress. “Buster has his truck.”
The dog, oblivious to the drama surrounding him, had picked up the plastic dump truck and was carrying it away. Probably to his toy basket in the family room.
“Buster.” That was all Jacob said. The dog turned immediately around. “Sit,” he commanded and held his open palm beneath the dog’s mouth. “Leave it.”
The undamaged toy fell into Jacob’s hand.
“Good boy.” He rewarded the dog with another petting.
Cody squealed with delight, fighting harder than before to get down.
Mariana deposited him on the floor, and he scurried over to Buster.
“Again,” the boy demanded, all smiles.
So much for worrying about his precious toy.
“You try.” Jacob gave the truck to Cody, who shoved it at Buster’s mouth. “Easy now,” Jacob coaxed. Once Buster had the toy, Jacob told Cody, “Say, leave it.”
“Weave it,” Cody commanded and broke into giggles when Buster obediently relinquished the toy.
Okay, another crisis averted, Mariana thought. And Jacob had somewhat redeemed himself. But what would he do when Buster wasn’t around?
They wound up washing the dishes together. Another surreal experience. The last man Mariana had performed domestic chores with was her boyfriend. Her long-ago boyfriend.
Deprivation. That must explain her interest in Jacob. She refused to use the words attraction or fascination.
“What time are you getting up in the morning?” she asked, carting another stack of dishes from the table to the sink. She’d deposited Cody in front of the TV and put his favorite “learning animal names” DVD in the player to watch.
“Five.”
“That’s early. I thought the rodeo was in Allen.” A ninety-minute drive at most.
“I have chores to do first, then I’m meeting Daniel at the Roughneck.”
“Good luck.”
“I’ll leave some coffee in the pot.”
He smiled, and her heart did that silly little lurch again. She waited until she could trust her voice. “I have an eight o’clock appointment myself. Cody and I will be out of here by seven.”
“I’ll give you a spare house key and the code for the alarm system.”
“Thanks.” She’d thought about a key but hadn’t felt comfortable asking.
“Was that a work call you got earlier? I wasn’t being nosy,” he added quickly. “More curious. What do you do at Hasbrough and Colletti?” Rinsing coffee mugs beneath the running faucet, he loaded them into the dishwasher. “Bail celebrities out of trouble?”
His last remark was delivered with a chuckle, so she didn’t take offense. Not that she would. Any number of celebrities, politicians and prominent local citizens had programmed Hasbrough and Colletti’s number into their phone’s speed dial. Without question, they were the top fix-it law firm in the Dallas area, if not the state.
When a starlet was busted on her second DUI, Hasbrough and Colletti hurriedly had her admitted into an ultra-private rehab facility, then kept her face out of the papers as much as possible. When a congressman was caught red-handed texting explicit messages and selfies to a woman not his wife, they suppressed the scandal, wrote carefully worded press releases and repaired his flailing career.
