Читать книгу His Unexpected Family - Grace Green, Grace Green - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

BRODIE got home from work that afternoon around five-thirty. Jodi was sitting on the front step, and when he jumped down from the truck, she ran over to meet him.

“Hi, Dad, I’ve been waiting for you.” She slipped her hand in his and they walked together to the picket gate that led to the back of the house. It snapped shut behind them as they stepped along the cement path. “Did you talk to Megan’s mom?” she asked eagerly. “About Saturday?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I talked with her.”

“And what did she say?”

In the backyard, Hayley was climbing out of the pool. She was wearing a black bikini that showed off her summer tan. She scooped up a towel and, running it through her waist-length brown hair, walked over to join them.

“Hi, Hayle,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Busy...but OK.” She wrapped the towel casually around her hips. “Dinner’ll be ready in half an hour.”

“Dad!” Jodi tugged the rolled-up sleeve of his denim shirt. “Is Megan coming on Saturday or what?”

“We won’t know till Friday.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s what Megan said. Her mom told her she had to not rush in and make best friends on her first day at school. I guess it makes sense.” But her sigh let him know how disappointed she was.

“Fingers crossed,” he said. “And I invited her mom to come, too, so she can get to know us.”

After a beat, Hayley asked, “What’s she like?” “Oh, she’s really neat!” Jodi said. “She enjoys most of the things I do—dancing, and math, and Barbies, and—”

“I meant the mother.” Hayley slipped her feet into the floral thongs she’d left on the patio, and looked at Brodie.

Sensing that Jodi had her ears perked, and that whatever he said would in all likelihood be repeated to Megan at the first opportunity, Brodie replied blandly, “She’s very pleasant.” And pigs can sing!

“Is she pretty?” Hayley tugged open the screen door.

“According to Mitzi,” he said evasively, “Kendra Westmore is drop-dead gorgeous.”

“But what do you think?” Hayley held the door open and her cornflower blue eyes seemed to laser right into him.

“Yeah.” He lifted his wide shoulders in a careless shrug. “The lady is indeed more than passably attractive.”

“Mmm.” The cornflower blue eyes became thoughtful.

But Hayley didn’t pursue the matter.

Not then; and not over dinner.

But later, as he was helping her with the washing up, she said in an offhand tone, “I hope the Westmore woman does decide to come over on Saturday.” She avoided his eyes as she handed him a pot to dry. “If Jodi and Megan are to become friends, then it would be a good thing to get to know the mother, too.”

Brodie had never understood the working of Hayley’s mind. The female mind. What man ever did understand the workings of such an intricate mechanism! But he had the disturbing feeling that Hayley was up to something. He had no idea what it was; and he knew better than to ask.

All would be revealed, he had no doubt, in the fullness of time.

Next morning Kendra was out back, having just watched Megan cycle off to school, when Brodie’s truck rumbled around the corner.

Though feeling defensive after their last encounter, she resisted the urge to scurry away. Instead she stood her ground, and slipping her hands into the pockets of her airy summer skirt, she waited for him to approach.

He was wearing a black T-shirt and khaki shorts and heavy workboots that crunched on the gravel as he walked. The man, she reflected bleakly, was all tan and muscle and hard male arrogance.

But she wasn’t the only one doing the looking. He was giving her a thorough once-over, his deliberate gaze taking in the sleek swing of her blond hair; the swell of her breasts under her tank top; and the slender length of her legs, revealed to him in all their shapely glory as a gust of wind plastered the full skirt to her thighs.

She felt as exposed as if she’d been naked but she refused to adjust the thin fabric, knowing that if she did he would see her discomfiture...and gloat over it.

She tilted her head regally. “Since you’re going to be in and out a lot you ought to have a key to the back door.” She drew the spare key from the pocket where she’d stored it. “That way, when I’m not around, you can come and go as you please.”

“Thanks.” He took the key and shoved it into his hip pocket. “So...why so sour this beautiful morning? Bad hair day? No—” his gaze drifted over her hair “—can’t be that. No sirree.”

The sudden heat in her cheeks wasn’t due to the sun. With fake pleasantry, she said, “Brodie, our relationship is a strictly business one. If you don’t want to be sued for sexual harassment, you’ll avoid making comments like that.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Can’t a man pay a simple compliment these days without ending up in court?”

“In a business situation,” she said in a supercilious tone, “personal comments are totally out of place.”

“Mmm. Am I to understand then that if you and your daughter accept our family invitation on Saturday, I’ll be free to express my admiration for any part of your anatomy which attracts my attention?”

Through gritted teeth, she muttered, “That’s not what I said!”

“How about if we ever go out on a date, then? Just the two of us? Would it be OK then?”

The man was married, for heaven’s sake, with children. But even if he’d been single and the most eligible bachelor in town, she wouldn’t have considered going out with him. He hadn’t changed one bit—he was still the same incorrigible flirt he’d been as a teenager!

“Yes.” Her voice was honey-sweet. “It would be OK then. But since I shall never go out on a date with you, Brodie, the question doesn’t... nor ever will ... arise.”

“Never say never.”

“Oh, I can say it and with more conviction than I’ve ever said anything in my life. I shall never—read my lips, Mr. Spencer—never go out on a date with you.”

She swirled away from him and made for the back door.

But as she stalked into the house she heard him call after her in that mocking tone that had already become so familiar.

“Famous last words, Ms. Westmore. Famous last words.”

Kendra resolved to keep out of his way for the rest of the day, but their altercation had left her strangely restless and she itched to busy herself with something.

In the end, she decided to work in the garden—the front garden, out of sight and sound of the kitchen.

She was on her hands and knees, weeding a rose bed, when a mail van came up the drive. She leaned back on her heels as the driver jumped out—a man in his mid-twenties.

He seemed vaguely familiar.

“Hi!” He walked over to her and slipped a couple of fliers from his bag. “Long time no see, Kendra!”

Blue Jamieson. She’d known him in high school—and she remembered what a struggle he’d had in school because he’d had a learning disability. She also remembered how immensely likable he’d been.

She’d known his father, too. Ben Jamieson had been the Westmore family doctor.

Kendra swallowed hard as she recalled the last time she’d sat in Dr. Jamieson’s office. Christmas Eve. Eight years past. It had been the worst day of her life.

Bar none.

“Well, hi yourself, Blue!” She scrambled to her feet and took the fliers. “Long time no see indeed!”

“Doing your own gardening now, huh? The Kendra I knew wouldn’t have dirtied her pretty little hands!” His ingenuous smile took any sting out of his words. “What’s up? You on a budget?”

She laughed. “No, no budget. I just haven’t hired a gardener yet, though my ad should be in the Lakeview Gazette today. Apparently my grandfather used a gardening company the past six years but I don’t want to go that route.”

“Yeah, Mr. Westmore started using the gardening company after Danny Spencer died. What a tragedy that was—you’ve heard about it, of course.”

“No. What happened?”

“Danny’s son Jack and Jack’s wife Maureen drove the old guy down to Vancouver on his sixty-fifth birthday—for some special hockey game he wanted to see—”

“I didn’t know Brodie had a brother.”

“Oh, yeah. Jack was fifteen years older than Brodie, a real nice guy. Worked in the Royal Bank. Anyway, on the way back from Vancouver, they ran into a snowstorm and were involved in a big smash on the Coquihalla—some truck lost its brakes and rammed into Jack’s Pinto. They were all killed. Well, Danny hung on for a week or so, but...”

Kendra felt goose bumps rise on her arms. “How awful.”

“Folks say only one good thing came out of that accident It sure brought out the best in Brodie Spencer—”

“Hey, Blue, you taking my name in vain?”

They both turned and saw Brodie walking across the lawn, a mug in one hand. He was still yards away, and couldn’t have heard much more than just his name.

Blue smoothed over what could have been an awkward moment by saying, “Just reminding Kendra of the old days, Brodie...when you were hell on wheels! You were the envy of all us guys when you bought your Harley-Davidson motorcycle.”

“Kendra’s grandfather gave me the money for that bike!”

Before Kendra could protest, he went on, dryly, “Of course, I had to work my butt off in his gardens for three summers to make it!”

Blue laughed. “Yeah, you did that, Brodie. While the rest of us guys were goofing off at the lake and having fun. Well—” he turned “—I gotta go! Great seeing you, Kendra!”

After he’d left, Brodie lingered.

“Yes?” She rolled up the fliers Blue had given her, and curled a tight hand around them. “What do you want?”

“Just taking my break, decided to get some air.” He raised his eyebrows. “Any objections to the hired hand coming around the front to drink his coffee?”

“Why do you take such a perverse delight in needling me?”

His laugh was without humor. “Delight? I take no delight in it!”

“Then why do you do it, Brodie? What do you hope to achieve?”

“I don’t really hope to achieve anything! But what I’d like to achieve is ... to find out what makes you tick!”

“Why on earth would that interest you? Besides, I’m a very simple person. Easy to read, easy to understand. There’s no mystery about me, Brodie. I have no secrets.”

Now there was a lie if ever there was one! And if Brodie Spencer were ever to discover her secret—

Her heart shuddered.

But he never would.

She didn’t know it all herself! And that was a bitter irony. It was like a puzzle with all the pieces in place...except one. The biggest piece.

The piece that was integral to solving the puzzle. But it had gotten torn in two.

She had one half.

And she didn’t know who had the other.

It was a nightmare from which there was no awakening.

A nightmare she’d lived with for more than eight years, and was probably doomed to live with forever—

“Did Megan’s father understand you?”

“What?”

Brodie’s gaze had narrowed. “You say you’re easy to read. Did your husband understand you?”

She suppressed a bark of hysterical laughter. Brodie’s expression would be a picture if she confessed the truth.

The scandalous truth.

“Yes,” she said. “He understood me perfectly.”

Brodie was looking at her hands and she suddenly realized she was plucking at the fliers; ripping off scraps, letting them fall like confetti to the grass. How long had she been doing it? Jerking in a quick breath, she stilled her fingers. And hoped Brodie hadn’t guessed he’d hit a raw nerve.

But perhaps he had, and perhaps he regretted it because when he spoke again it was in a neutral tone.

“Look,” he said, “what I really came out for was—I need you to come along to the kitchen. We’ve hit a...snag.”

“What kind of a snag?”

“I’d like to show you.”

They crossed the lawn together, their shadows mingling on the bright green grass. A bee buzzed around Brodie’s head, and he swatted it away. From the kitchen window came the beat of a stereo.

When they reached the open door, Brodie stood back to let her enter first. Then he crossed to the ghetto blaster set on the wide windowsill above the sink, and switched it off. “Hey, you guys, take five.”

The two men who had been busy yanking off wallboard dropped their tools and took off their dust masks. On their way out, the younger man paused in the doorway.

“Hey, boss, almost forgot. Hayley called. She wants you to pick up bread and hamburger buns on your way home.”

“Thanks, Sandy.” Brodie chuckled. “Hen—”

“‘Henpecked, that’s what I am!’” the two workmen chanted together as if it was a story they’d heard many times before. And guffawing, they walked outside.

Brodie chuckled. “No respect,” he said to Kendra. “I get no respect around here. One of these days...”

Kendra forced a small laugh but her mind was not on what Brodie was saying, but on what Sandy had said.

Hayley. The name didn’t ring a bell. She recalled no Hayley in high school. Where had Brodie met her, then? Had she been a summer visitor? One of those flashy city girls who came up to Lakeview for the holidays and dazzled the local boys at the Friday night dances?

“Over here,” Brodie said.

She walked over to join him. He was wielding a heavy screwdriver.

“Watch this,” he said.

He jabbed the screwdriver into one of the studs that had been revealed when the wallboard had been pulled off. The stud crumbled in a cloud of dust.

“Dry rot,” he said.

“Is it bad?”

“It’s bad. I’ve checked and it’s spread all along this corner of the house. The kitchen, the mudroom, the kitchenette. We’re looking at major reconstruction here.”

“Oh, that’s just great!” Kendra chewed her lip. “You’re going to be working in both kitchens?”

“Yup.”

She rubbed her hands down her arms, which suddenly felt chilly despite the warmth of the day. “How long will the job take?”

“Could be several weeks all told.”

“We should move out.”

He leaned back against the sink. “Yeah, it would be easier all round. Usually is, when renovations are major.”

She murmured a sound of frustration and said, almost to herself, “I hate to uproot Megan again... just when we’re getting settled.”

“Yeah, it’s hard on kids. Moving. D’you want to put the job on hold till you find some place to stay?”

“Yes, that would be best.”

“Well, I guess we can knock off now,” he said. “But listen ... anything I can do to help out, just let me know.”

Kendra wondered if she had ever met a more disconcerting man. A few minutes ago he’d been needling her, driving her crazy; now he was looking at her with concern in his eyes and offering her assistance.

“Thanks,” she said. “That’s kind of you. But I’m sure I’ll manage. We’ll probably end up renting a housekeeping suite in one of the motels at the school end of town—”