Читать книгу The Nanny's Twin Blessings - Deb Kastner - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Why did the house smell like bacon?

Drew awoke to the sizzling smell of a hot breakfast and his stomach immediately growled in protest. He hadn’t had a real, home-cooked breakfast since…

Well, it had been a long time.

He shrugged on jeans and a T-shirt, not bothering to check his appearance in the mirror. His curiosity about what was happening in the kitchen trumped the urge to take extra time to spruce up before presenting himself to the world—or rather, to Stephanie.

Drew walked bare-footed into the kitchen, where he discovered Stephanie at the stove flipping pancakes, while Pop and the twins waited impatiently at the table, forks in their hands and expectant looks on their faces. Someone had set a basket of fresh strawberries on the table and both of the boys sported telltale red-stained faces.

“Good morning, Drew,” Stephanie greeted as he entered the room and tousled his twins’ hair.

“Morning,” he echoed absently as he tried to take in the full extent of what was happening.

Stephanie was dressed in gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting pink T-shirt and had her sun-gold hair swept back in a ponytail. Even in casual clothing, she was strikingly beautiful, especially because she appeared at ease and in her element with giggling children in the room.

At home. In his house.

In the week since she’d arrived to supervise his sons, the whole house seemed to be more orderly and less stressful. She was paradoxically full of energy and yet able to create a calm, tranquil atmosphere in the house when need be. The boys loved her, and he had no qualms about having the twins stay in her care while he taught at the elementary school. He might not have known Stephanie for long, but he trusted her.

She’d apparently scoped out his pantry at some point during the week. Not only had she found all the ingredients to make breakfast, but she was wearing his Don’t Mind the Fire: Everything is Under Control apron that he used when he grilled outside.

“Pull up a seat,” Stephanie continued cheerfully. “Your pancakes are almost ready. I hope you’re hungry. I made a lot of them.” Her voice was as bright as sunrise on a spring day, which only served to rattle Drew’s nerves even more. Ugh. He wasn’t a morning person on the best of days, and this was not his best day.

“Look, Daddy. It’s a kitty.” Matty pointed to his plate. Sure enough, there was a pancake shaped in the form of the little boy’s favorite animal.

“Really cool, buddy,” he said. Fairly creative, he had to admit. Breakfast art. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an animal pancake before.”

“Me, too. Me, too. Stephie made it,” Jamey informed him, pumping his little arms in excitement and pointing at his own plate. “I got a mouse.”

Stephanie’s sparkling brown eyes met Drew’s as she chuckled and glanced over her shoulder. “I gave it my best try, anyway. A kitty’s tail is a little bit more difficult than mouse ears, and I’m not an artist on my best day.”

“You don’t hear anyone complaining,” his pop said, in an unusually chipper voice. Stephanie’s presence had seemed even to have worked on the grumpy old man.

Drew directed his gaze to his father’s plate, amusedly wondering if Stephanie had made Pop an animal pancake. Like maybe a porcupine. But he seemed to be happy devouring his silver-dollar half-stack.

“What is all this?” he asked, wondering if he sounded as disconcerted as he felt. It was as if he was a modern-day man stepping into a 1950s appliance advertisement.

Fortunately, Stephanie didn’t seem to notice his agitation. She just smiled and gestured to the skillets on the burners of the stove.

“It’s just what it looks like. The twins said they were hungry for breakfast, and I thought I might as well cook for everybody. It’s not any harder to whip up a meal for the whole family than it is just for the boys. I hope you don’t mind. I asked your father if it would be okay and he said it would be fine.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “No problem.”

Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt about Stephanie taking over the kitchen. She fit into his family like fingers in a glove, and he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with that. It was too cozy. Too personal.

Like the sweet family gatherings he’d always hoped for and pictured in his mind but had never quite had. Reality was blinding. And now Stephanie was bridging that gap with her smile and a batch of pancakes. With what appeared to be effortless grace, she flowed into the current of their family, seamlessly blending with them as if she’d been there all along.

“I take requests,” she joked, waving her spatula around like a drum major marking time with a baton. “No promises, but I’ll give it my best shot. An animal? Your favorite sport?”

“Plain pancakes are fine. What Pop’s got on his plate looks great.” He felt awkward being waited on in his own kitchen by a woman he’d invited to his house. She wasn’t exactly his guest, but he hadn’t hired her to cook and clean, either. He hoped she knew that.

“A full stack for you,” she amended. “You’re still a growing boy.”

“I’m going to be, if I start eating a full-size breakfast every day.”

“It’s important to start the morning with a good, nutritious meal, don’t you think? It gives you energy and sets the tone for the day.”

Stephanie was certainly setting the tone this morning. Clear skies, sunny and warm. What a counterbalance to Drew’s current partly-cloudy-with-a-chance-of-rain attitude.

“If we’re talking about needing some energy, I’m going to require a solid jolt of caffeine,” Drew added, smothering a yawn.

“I think we can include a cup of coffee or two with your meal, as long as you eat everything else on your plate and drink a tall glass of orange juice.” She set a steaming mug of coffee before him and he took a long, fortifying sip.

“Because it’s nutritious,” Drew repeated, mimicking Stephanie without mocking her.

She slid him a smile that affected him more than he would have liked.

“Tritious,” Jamey repeated, shoving a large strawberry toward Drew’s mouth.

“That’s right, Jamey,” Stephanie encouraged, sounding just as proud of the young boy as Drew was, even though she had no vested interest in his children beyond being their nanny.

Drew barely dodged the squished-up fruit Jamey was aiming at his face and regarded the boy thoughtfully. Jamey was his shy one. It took a while for the boy to open up, and he didn’t usually speak around people that he didn’t know, especially adults.

But Stephanie was different. Jamey already trusted her, and Drew had to admit, if only to himself, that he could see why. She already knew which twin was which and was able to address each of them by name. Most people couldn’t tell the boys apart, even after they’d been together for a while.

And her ease with the boys wasn’t the only conquest she’d made. She’d even won over his ornery, cantankerous father, which was no easy feat.

“New-tri-shush,” Matty corrected, even though the word was new to him.

Stephanie set a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon and eggs in front of Drew. For some reason seeing this well-rounded meal right in front of him convicted him of his own lapse in parental aptitude.

Nutrition hadn’t exactly been the word of the day where Drew and the kids were concerned, especially recently. An image of the blueberry toaster pastries and quickly peeled bananas that he usually served on busy school-day mornings flashed through his head, followed by a gut-tightening wave of guilt.

When had convenience food become the extent of their morning routine?

He had to hand it to Stephanie—this was the first really nutritious breakfast the twins had had in ages. He, too, for that matter. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and a large pitcher of orange juice. His mouth was watering already.

“Nice to have a woman in the house,” his father commented gruffly, loud enough for the neighbors in the next county to hear. He grunted and shoved another large forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Yes, ma’am, this is the bee’s knees.”

“Why, thank you, Frank.” Grinning, she flipped the last pancake onto a plate. “I’m certainly outnumbered here, guys to girls. Even Quincy is a boy.” She set the platter of remaining pancakes in the middle of the circular oak table and tickled Matty on the ear.

The boy squealed and wiggled in his chair.

“Me, too! Me, too!” Jamey insisted. Those seemed to be his favorite two words lately.

Stephanie chuckled and moved around the table, leaning over Drew’s shoulder so she could tickle both boys at once. “It’s a good thing I have two hands.”

Drew closed his eyes, trying not to breathe, because if he did, the warm, spicy fragrance of her perfume was going to get to him. He’d always been a sucker for orchids and jasmine. Maybe it was the appeal of the foreign scent to his down-home-country nose.

Whatever it was, he didn’t need the distraction, and he was relieved when she moved away and went back to the stove to remove the last few pieces of bacon she’d been frying.

“How do you know which boy is which?” he asked, desperately trying to stay cool and collected, at least on the outside. “Most people have difficulty telling the twins apart. Did Pop help you figure it out?”

“Didn’t need to,” his father replied, before Stephanie could say a word. “She had it right from the get-go.”

“I’ve never had a problem with twins,” she answered, leaning her hip against the counter. “Matty has a little dimple on his chin,” she said, gesturing toward the boy in question, “and Jamey here has just the hint of a cowlick on his forehead.” She leaned forward and ruffled Jamey’s hair.

“Incredible,” Drew murmured under his breath. He was impressed. Stephanie certainly had a keen eye for children. His children.

“So for lunch, I was thinking we could take in a burger at Cup O’ Jo as a special treat to the boys.”

In truth, this wasn’t so much about the boys. This was about getting over the hurdle of Stephanie meeting Jo Murphy, who owned the café. His strategy was to get to Jo first and try to convince her not to play matchmaker.

Which probably wouldn’t work, but he had to try, anyway.

“Cup O’ Jo?” Stephanie queried. “Is that a coffee house?”

Drew chuckled. “It’s the coffee house. You’ve never had coffee until you’ve tried a Cup O’ Jo.” He chuckled at his own joke. “They have hot coffee, iced-coffee and everything in between.”

Not that he’d had many fancy gourmet coffees in his lifetime to compare it to. He wasn’t very adventurous when it came to trying new foods and drinks. He preferred the tried and true. Steak and potatoes. Black and bold. It suited him.

“My mouth is watering already,” Stephanie assured him. “Caramel frappés are my favorite.”

“And Jo’s niece-in-law Phoebe makes the best cherry pie in Texas,” his father added, smacking his lips. “Maybe in the whole U.S. of A. We’ve got us a world-class pastry chef right here in Serendipity.”

For once, his father wasn’t exaggerating. Phoebe really was a world-class pastry chef. How she’d ended up in Serendipity and married to Jo’s nephew Chance was beyond Drew’s comprehension.

Strangers seldom came to the small town, and even more infrequently stayed. Family roots in Serendipity grew as long and thick as an old cottonwood tree. Few were pulled up, and even fewer were planted. As in Stephanie’s case, visitors usually had a specific reason for visiting and left soon afterward.

“It’s Saturday, so we aren’t going to see the usual lunch crowd,” he continued. “But there’s still bound to be a few regulars catching a meal there. And, of course, you’ll meet many of the town folk at church tomorrow.”

Her eyebrows rose, but she didn’t say a word.

He hesitated and cleared his throat, realizing he hadn’t even asked her about her religious preferences before blurting out that last statement. Now he’d put her on the spot.

“Er—I mean, if you’d like to go to church, that is. I didn’t mean to presume. What I intended to say was that most of our neighbors attend services on Sunday. It would be a good chance for you to meet everyone, and for people to get to know you, as well.”

“Of course,” Stephanie agreed, with a smile that put him at ease and stirred him up at the same time. “I’d like to go with you tomorrow. Thank you for asking.”

* * *

Feeling more on edge than she cared to admit, Stephanie reached for the nearest breakfast plates, all of which were satisfyingly empty, and began stacking them into a sink full of warm, soapy water. The Spencer family seemed to have liked the meal as much as she’d enjoyed cooking it.

The one thing she’d been worried about was how Drew would react to her taking over his kitchen, but so far he hadn’t said anything negative about it. In fact, he was as vocal as Frank and the twins in praising her cooking skills and appreciating her efforts.

She didn’t even want to think about how things might have gone if for some reason Drew had taken offense to her actions, if he’d become angry at her poking around his pantry without her asking him first.

She’d always been that way—caring what other people thought of her, wanting to keep the peace. Her desire to please others came from a deep-rooted need in her childhood. Foster children—especially older ones—were easily overlooked, even in the best-meaning of families. Many of her peers in the juvenile system had acted out as a way to get attention—taken drugs, joined gangs, got in fights, committed crimes.

Stephanie had taken another route to getting noticed—trying to please everyone all the time. Getting straight A’s in high school when she was really a B student at heart. Keeping her bedroom immaculate when her nature was to be more cluttered and disorganized.

Being the perfect girlfriend long after all of the signs pointed to a disaster-ridden relationship.

What had she been thinking? It was thoroughly humiliating, that she’d been so desperate for a family of her own that she’d only seen Ryan’s charm and the wealth. She’d convinced herself to overlook the glaring inconsistencies in Ryan’s words versus his actions, blinded herself to who he really was just because he was a handsome, rich man who could have his choice of women.

He’d chosen her, and she’d thought it meant something. She thought he would propose to her. She thought they were in love, so she’d made excuses for him when he lashed out in anger, when he bruised her body as well as her pride.

But she was a victim no longer. Ryan couldn’t hurt her anymore. She just had to ignore the cloud of trepidation still hanging over her head until it went away on its own.

“I didn’t hire you to cook and clean for us, you know.” Drew’s warm voice came from behind her, disturbingly close to her left ear, and she jumped in surprise. “You’re a nanny, not a maid.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right,” Stephanie assured him. “I don’t mind at all. I enjoy doing a few tasks around the house while I work. I can keep a steady eye on the boys and tidy up a bit at the same time. Multitasking is my specialty.”

“Then let me help you, at least,” he said, slipping in next to her by the sink and taking the plate she was rinsing out of her hands. “You gather the dishes from the table, and I’ll rinse them and stack them in the dishwasher.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She was glad to be able to move away from him to scoop the silverware from the table. Everything about Drew oozed masculinity, from the strength of his hands to the way his biceps pulled against the sleeve of his T-shirt. Her shoulder would fit right under his, were he to reach out to her. When he’d stepped up next to her, she’d immediately inhaled his brisk scent—an intoxicating combination of soap and man.

How could she even notice Drew that way? She definitely didn’t want to go there. She was not in any big hurry to get her heart broken again. Besides, Drew was her employer.

In her head, it was easy to tick reason after reason why she shouldn’t see him that way, but that didn’t stop the awareness flowing through her when he stood at her side.

She supposed it proved she was still alive, at least. There was a time after her breakup with Ryan where she’d seriously wondered if she would survive. And now she was here, with a job and sustenance and a place to lay her head. God was good.

“You had a funny look on your face when I first opened the door last week,” Drew said conversationally. “What were you thinking—apart from wondering if my dog was going to eat you, that is?”

She drew in a surprised breath. “You mean, about you? Honestly? I didn’t expect you to be a…well, a cowboy, for lack of a better term.”

“Ha!” he chortled. “And I didn’t expect you to be…” His face turned an odd crimson color and his lips curved first into a frown and then into a grim line. “Well, it doesn’t really matter what I thought. Do you like baseball?”

Now that was an abrupt change in conversation if she’d ever heard one.

What had he thought of her? Somehow she didn’t think she was going to find out any time soon.

“That depends,” she answered, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Watching baseball or playing it?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Both, I suppose.”

“I’m not big on watching baseball on television, although I don’t mind catching a game if someone else is watching it. I’ve seen a few Yankees games live. That was fun. I especially liked the hot dogs.”

“That’s the twins’ favorite part of live baseball, too,” Drew said with a chuckle.

“See? We have a lot in common already.”

“And playing? How are you at hitting a curve ball?”

That, Stephanie thought, depended entirely on what kind of curve ball was being thrown. The ones life had been pitching her lately had been beaning her in the head. But she supposed he was asking about the real kind, the one with a literal ball. “If you want to challenge me to play, I’m down with it—and I’ll warn you right now, I’m the woman to beat.”

“Intriguing. I’m going to put your words to the test, you know. The twins are on a T-ball team, and they’ll want you to practice with them. They’ll probably want you to come cheer them on at their games, too.”

“I would love to,” Stephanie answered sincerely. In her experience, being a nanny and being a cheerleader often went hand in hand. Anything she could do to instill in her charges the self-esteem she lacked as a child was worthwhile in her book.

“Most Saturdays I take them out to practice in the park,” Drew continued. “I’m not sure we’ll get to it today, but maybe next weekend we can bat a few balls.”