Читать книгу Bachelor Protector - Julianna Morris - Страница 12

CHAPTER TWO

TYLER WOKE TO the chirp of birds outside his window. His family’s suite was in a sprawling Victorian farmhouse surrounded by gardens, a far cry from the modern monstrosity his father had built in DC.

Okay, that wasn’t fair.

The architect had probably hoped to create something different, but Richard Prentiss would have demanded a house designed for society entertaining, rather than comfortable living. Something that fit their affluent Foxhall Crescent neighborhood.

Tyler tucked his arm under his neck and wished the birds would go somewhere else. Ordinarily he adapted well to time changes, but sleep was difficult these days between concern for Nathan and his mother.

And then there was the other thing...

Pain shot through his head, though he didn’t know if it was from the injuries he’d gotten two weeks earlier or from memories that were too fresh and unresolved to let go.

He resolutely turned his thoughts back to his family. In DC, his mother had a social circle and familiar surroundings. For Nathan, there were therapists and doctors experienced at treating military-related injuries and PTSD. Even if Nathan didn’t return to rehab, home seemed better than a tiny tourist town on the opposite side of the country.

But when they’d talked the previous evening, Nathan had refused to leave Glimmer Creek. Maybe it was the lack of experienced doctors that he liked, because he wouldn’t have to answer uncomfortable questions.

But if both Nathan and Mom insisted on staying, Tyler would have to stay, as well. Among his other concerns, he didn’t think his mother should be alone with Nathan at night. She’d been warned by the doctors not to interfere if he was having a nightmare, but it was still a concern. Tyler also wanted to be there in case she had another emotional crisis.

At any rate, the last time he’d left, his family had traveled across the country, defying medical orders. Maybe he was a chauvinist, but this time he was staying put and keeping an eye on things. The plane tickets he’d bought would have to wait.

A light knock sounded, then Rosemary called, “I’m leaving for work. Breakfast is in the refrigerator—Poppy Gold has it delivered every morning. Be sure to eat something.”

He got up and opened the door. “I don’t need to be told to eat, Mom. I’m not a child.”

“You’re treating me like one. The way you acted yesterday was outrageous.”

Plainly, she hadn’t forgiven him. But he hadn’t forgiven himself, either, so it was understandable.

“I was tired and not thinking straight. I apologize.”

Rosemary looked him up and down. “I accept your apology, but it’s Sarah I’m thinking about. She works horribly long hours and doesn’t need that kind of trouble.”

Tyler let out a heavy breath. It felt as if his mother was more concerned about a stranger than her own son. “I’ll apologize to her, too, but right now we need to discuss going home.”

Rosemary checked her watch. “I told you there’s nothing to discuss, and I’m out of time. I don’t believe in being late for work.”

Tyler scowled as she left. Rosemary Prentiss had been raised in a comfortable, old-fashioned Boston household, the only child of older parents. They’d expected her to simply marry well and raise a family, so it was difficult to see her having any preconceived notions about employment.

Yawning, he trotted downstairs and found Nathan on the couch in the living room.

“Did you spend the night there?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. Have you had any nightmares since you got here?” Tyler asked, deciding he couldn’t pretend everything was normal. It wasn’t and might never be again.

“Most days, but not a bad one until the night before last. I get claustrophobic in my bedroom, so I’m going to start sleeping out here.”

Tyler doubted claustrophobia was responsible, but he didn’t say so. “The bedrooms upstairs are spacious.”

Nathan angrily slapped his injured leg. “Maybe, but it’s hard to get there. Besides, there’s less chance I’ll wake Mom if we’re on different floors. Not that I’m sleeping much at night.”

Tyler didn’t know if Nathan’s anger was a good sign or a problem. Surely it was healthier for Nathan to be outwardly angry than tearing himself up inside. Still, sleeping on the couch and wearing clothes that couldn’t have been changed in two days sounded like more than anger. Nathan had always dressed sharply, even when off duty.

“You’re analyzing, big brother,” Nathan said softly. “Stop or your head may explode.”

The comment made Tyler feel better. It was an old joke between them. Nathan always went with his gut. He was instinctive, popular with his peers, the life of every party. Tyler wasn’t. He thought everything out. Analyzed. One girlfriend had called him an ice man when they broke up—it was his only serious relationship, and it had affirmed he wasn’t cut out for commitment.

All of which made his behavior at Sarah’s Sweet Treats even more bizarre. He should have reasoned the situation through and chosen a more effective strategy instead of charging in the way he had. Some ice man.

He looked at Nathan. “My head is fine.”

“And you had to analyze your answer before giving it to me. Eat breakfast—you need brain food.”

Tyler went into the kitchen and helped himself from the containers in the refrigerator. He reheated the meal in the microwave, then sat down and ate a bite of the potato casserole. It was delicious, though he nearly choked when he realized the decorative logo on the containers was the same one he’d seen on the sign at Sarah’s Sweet Treats.

So the bakery was more than a bakery, fed hundreds of people each morning. His knowledge of restaurant operations was limited, but he knew it was a high-stress, competitive business.

How long could his mother handle it? The term “nervous breakdown” wasn’t used much anymore, but whatever it was called now, she’d come close to one after his father’s funeral. On top of everything else, she’d panicked at the thought of dealing with her finances. So Tyler had spent months sorting the tangle his father had left.

Fortunately there was more than enough money, despite his father’s unexpected taste for risky speculations. Now he mostly needed to review her accounts each month to be sure everything was in order and that the automated bill payments had gone through.

Back in the living room, Tyler found his brother staring at the ceiling again. It didn’t look as if he’d moved an inch.

“Do you want to eat, or should I get rid of the leftovers?”

“Get rid of them.”

Tyler tidied the kitchen before heading upstairs to shower and dress. In the bathroom, he took out his electric shaver and began running it over his jaw.

Perhaps he could invite Sarah Fullerton to lunch as an apology—be tactful and treat her the way he would a difficult client. If she understood how important it was, she might even encourage his mother to quit and return home with Nathan.

Tyler nodded at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t much of a plan, but at least it was something.

* * *

SARAH STARTED A batch of bread while the rest of her employees finished clearing up from the breakfast sprint. Preparing and delivering breakfast to Poppy Gold was always a tight operation. She was exhausted from lack of sleep and lingering tension but refused to slow down.

She’d just put eight pans of Nebraska oatmeal bread into the oven when Aurelia came in. “Uh, Sarah, that guy from yesterday is back,” she said in a low tone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Why couldn’t he leave her alone?

“All right, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Gabby took over while Sarah removed her apron. Tyler Prentiss was on the sidewalk, so she stepped outside. “Yes, Mr. Prentiss?”

He gave her a deliberate smile he probably thought was charming. “Please, it’s Tyler. I came to apologize. I’m sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. It was inappropriate. Normally I’m quite calm and controlled.”

“Okay,” she said cautiously.

“Please let me take you to lunch so that I can explain. I checked on restaurants in the area. The steakhouse sounds good.”

Sarah blinked. Why did he think she’d want to eat with him? “Uh...sorry, I don’t take long lunches.” Perhaps he didn’t understand the demands of her business. She might be the owner, but that meant she had even less free time than anyone else.

“Maybe we could discuss it now.”

She let out a breath. “I’ve accepted your apology, so there’s nothing to discuss.”

A hint of unidentifiable emotion flickered in his eyes. Today, at least, Tyler Prentiss was projecting the dark, brooding thing perfectly, giving the impression that something more intense was going on.

“That isn’t entirely the case,” he said politely. “You heard me talking with my mother yesterday, so you’re aware that my brother should still be in rehab. I was hoping that if you knew more about the situation, you’d help.”

Sarah cocked her head. “I don’t see how. Rosemary told me about Nathan’s injuries, but I’ve never met him. Oh, unless you’re thinking my dad could do something... I know he’s been spending time with your brother.”

“Actually, I hoped you’d urge Mom to go home. Then Nathan would go, as well.”

Sarah released an exasperated breath. “Doing that would make Rosemary believe I’m unhappy with her work, which isn’t the case.”

“Maybe, but why did you hire her in the first place?” Tyler asked. “Mom doesn’t have any experience. And promoting her so quickly?”

Sarah could barely control her irritation. Her ex-husband had made her feel as if she was incapable of making her own decisions, and she refused to let that happen again.

“I’m not going to justify myself. This is my shop. Your mom says you’re an architect. How would you like me to ask why you chose to put skylights or recycle chutes into one of your building designs?”

“It isn’t the same,” he returned in a clipped tone. She might have hit a nerve, though it was hard to tell with Tyler. He seemed to have no problem revealing anger, but his other emotions were much less clear.

“It’s exactly the same. That’s your business—this is mine,” she retorted.

Tyler’s brown eyes focused intensely on her, but she could tell little from his expression. “Fair enough. Look, I know my mother. She’s a lovely woman with good intentions, but she isn’t the nine-to-five type.”

“She’s working eight-to-four, though that’s beside the point. It’s up to Rosemary if she wants to return to the East Coast with your brother—I’m not going to manipulate her. And for your information, she asked for the job—I didn’t twist her arm to take it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t since she doesn’t have any qualifications,” he snapped.

No matter what Tyler seemed to think, Sarah wondered how well he actually knew his mother. Experience could be gained without a paycheck. From what Rosemary had said about her volunteer work, she had a huge amount of management experience.

Yet in a way, Tyler had a point. Rosemary was a visitor to Glimmer Creek, staying at Poppy Gold temporarily. She’d said nothing about moving permanently to California or whether she would leave when Nathan was ready.

Tyler cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. It’s just that I don’t know what to do. Nathan isn’t getting the care he needs and Mom is so annoyed with me, I doubt she’ll listen to anything I have to say for a while.”

Sarah suppressed a smile. The way he’d made the stiff, embarrassed admission was almost endearing; plainly he wasn’t comfortable relying on anyone else.

“You may be right,” she acknowledged. “But can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Tyler said, seeming wary.

“Well, I get why Nathan might be better off in rehab, but what will you do if he keeps refusing?”

* * *

IT WAS A valid question, and Tyler wished he had an answer. Confiding in anyone was miles outside his comfort zone, but he might be forced into it. His mother and Nathan’s welfare were too important, and right now Sarah Fullerton seemed the most likely person who could help.

Yet before he could say anything else, Sarah stirred restlessly. “Sorry, but morning is my busiest period. I need to get back to my kitchen.”

Tyler let out a sigh of his own as she turned and disappeared into the bakery. He’d been right about her figure—without the chef’s apron, her body was a delectable balance of slim lines and curves.

He shook his head to clear it. Getting distracted by a beautiful woman was the last thing he needed.

Officially he was under investigation for a recent building collapse in the greater Chicago area, an incident that had injured five men. Prior to the start of construction, Milo Corbin, the owner, had demanded unsafe modifications to the plans. He’d grown so unreasonable that Tyler had resigned from the project. Changes had subsequently been made to his original design, but Corbin and the second architect were still trying to shift the blame to Tyler.

They wouldn’t be successful.

Tyler had gone over his original blueprints and knew they were sound. He’d also kept careful documentation about the alterations Corbin had wanted. Nonetheless, Tyler felt responsible. He should have done more to prevent construction from moving ahead.

Ironically, Corbin had promptly screamed for Tyler’s help after the collapse, so he’d flown to Illinois from Italy to spend a couple of days helping with the search-and-rescue efforts. After all, he’d studied the changes Corbin had wanted and predicted they’d lead to structural failure, so he was reasonably certain of where and how the damage had occurred. With the city engineer out of town, Tyler had even signed a waiver and gone into the building to advise on the safest way to extract trapped workers.

What he didn’t understand was why a particular concrete wall hadn’t held. The thing had crumbled unexpectedly, bringing debris down on him and one of the firemen. Though injured, Tyler had pocketed a chunk of the concrete for later analysis. He’d given it to the lawyers he’d hired in Illinois.

Lawyers.

Tyler was struck by the irony. He’d never been interested in his father’s work, and now he was relying on a bulldog Chicago law firm to protect him.

But no matter what happened, nothing would take away the pain those construction workers had suffered or the fear their families had experienced as they’d waited for them to be found.