Читать книгу A Mother's Wish / Mother To Be: A Mother's Wish - Karen Templeton - Страница 11

“Day-um,” Winnie muttered twenty long, panting minutes later, when she came upon the multilevel, timber-and-glass-and-tin-roof mountain hideaway set in the fowlinfested clearing, every surface either blending into or reflecting its surroundings. Not the place to be in case of a forest fire, she thought over the frenzied clucking of chickens with a Border collie in their midst, followed closely by, Then again, some things are worth the risk.

And standing here gawking at it wasn’t getting her home.

She and Annabelle waded through the chickens—well, Winnie waded; Annabelle did her slinking herding thing, only to discover that chickens didn’t herd—then climbed the stone steps leading up to the wide-planked porch. Winnie pressed the doorbell, twisting to admire the incredible view while she waited for Florita to answer. A few seconds later, she heard the door open behind her, followed by a chilly pause.

She turned. Not Florita.

“You have chickens?”

“Flo has chickens,” Aidan grumbled.

“Speaking of whom…Where is she?”

“Out. Took her niece shopping.”

“Tess? The one who’s pregnant—?”

“What do you want?”

“Not a morning person, are we?” Aidan glowered at her. Winnie sighed, trying not to notice how well his paintsmeared, waffle-weave Henley clung to his torso. That his hair was still damp from his shower, all cherub-curly around his anything-but-cherubic features. That apparently her hormones and his pheromones were a perfect match. “My car battery’s dead,” she said, holding her breath. “I need a phone book. Or the number of a mechanic.”

“You don’t belong to an auto club?”

“Since I never go anywhere—up until now, I mean—it didn’t seem worth the expense.”

“Did you leave your lights on?”

“No, I did not leave my lights on,” she said, thinking, What is this, twenty questions? a split second before Aidan said, “So you jumped into your truck and drove all the way here without checking first to make sure everything was in working order?” and Winnie wondered if he had any idea how close she was to smacking him clear into next week.

“Okay, Aidan? This little detour was not on my agenda this morning, so I was already halfway to pissed when you opened the door. Of course I had the truck tuned up before I left. And the battery’s new, I had it replaced before right before the trip, I have no idea why it’s dead. So if you’d just hand me the phone book—”

“You walked all the way up here from the Old House?”

Apparently completely oblivious to her having just read him the riot act, Aidan was now squinting past Winnie’s shoulder. Wondering what sort of fumes he’d been breathing over the years, she muttered, “Short of saddling Annabelle, that was my only option…What are you doing?”

What he was doing was putting on a denim jacket and coming out onto the porch, closing the house door behind him. Then he kept going, turning when he got halfway down the porch steps to spit out, “Well? Are y’coming with me or not?”

She crossed her arms. “Excuse me—did I pass out for a second and miss a chunk of the conversation? Coming with you where?”

That got a put-upon sigh. “Back to your truck, of course.”

“And…why are you taking me back to my truck?”

Another sigh. “So I can have a look myself?” At her continued blank stare, he added, “Before you go and t’row your money at some yahoo who’d be only too glad to take it from you for basically nothing?”

Apparently, the more agitated he became, the heavier his accent got. It was almost cute, in a remarkably irritating kind of way. “Somehow you don’t strike me as the mechanical type.”

“Looks can be deceivin’. Now can we get a move on? I haven’t got all day.”

“Oh, for God’s sake—just give me the damn phone book so I can call a mechanic or somebody—”

“Don’t know where t’is,” Aidan said, continuing to his own truck.

On a sigh, Winnie followed.

Ten minutes later, the verdict was in.

“It’s not your battery,” came Aidan’s half-muffled voice from in the bowels of her truck. “It’s your alternator.”

“Are you kidding me?” Against her better judgment, she got right up beside him to have a look, staring so hard into the netherworld under her truck’s hood she could almost ignore the low, steady hormonal hum thrumming through her veins. Like getting too close to uranium with a Geiger counter. “So that’s what killed my battery?”

“It would seem so.”

Not that Winnie entirely knew what she was looking at, but at least she knew what an alternator was for. Of course, she knew what her kidneys were for, too, but she didn’t know what they looked like, either. With her luck, it would probably be cheaper to get a new kidney.

As though reading her mind, Aidan said, “The good news is, I can change out both and save you a bundle.” Although he didn’t sound like this was exactly good news for him.

“And the bad news?”

He slammed shut her hood, wiping his hands on an old rag he’d had in his own truck. “What makes you think there’s bad news?”

“Could be that dark cloud always hanging over your head.”

He looked at her steadily for a long moment—tick! tick! tickticktickticktick!—then let out the sigh of a man whose patience is being sorely tried. “If we set out for Santa Fe now, we can pick up the parts and I can have you on your way after lunch.”

“I hate to put you to so much trouble—”

“And we can stand here arguing for the rest of the mornin’, or you can stop being so bloody stubborn and we can get goin’.”

“Can Annabelle come, too?”

And yet another sigh. “Yes, Annabelle can come, too.”

“You really can’t wait until I’m gone, can you?” she said, reluctantly trooping around to the passenger side of his truck and climbing in. After Annabelle.

From behind the wheel, Aidan muttered, “Truer words were never spoken.” And yanked the shift into Reverse.

You have no idea, Aidan thought as they pulled out onto the highway leading to Santa Fe, how much I want you gone. How much damage those big blue eyes, that smart mouth, were doing. He had never thought of himself as the protective type when it came to women, not even before he met June, who’d prided herself on her self-sufficiency. At first Aidan had assumed that June’s being so much older than he accounted for her self-confidence, but the longer he knew her the more he realized that’s simply who she was.

And it wasn’t that Winnie was helpless, her obvious inability to pick a decent mechanic notwithstanding. Far from it. In fact, Aidan surmised that any man fool enough to play the Little Woman card with her would find both him and his card reduced to pulp. Still, there was something about the woman—

“You really know how to install a new battery and alternator?” she asked from the other side of the far-too-short bench seat.

—that would drive him completely ‘round the bend before lunch, if he didn’t keep his guard up.

“I really do.” From the seat behind them, her dog groaned. “My mother’s family’s farmed for generations. By the time I was fourteen I was an old hand at fixing tractors and such. And anyway, when you live out in the sticks you learn to take care of your own t’ings, not count on somebody else to do it for you.”

“Oh,” she said, then fell silent, thinking her own thoughts, and Aidan realized with a punch to his gut that the stillness was much, more worse than her blathering.

Desperate to flatten the silence, he said, “So. What will you do when you get back?”

“Please don’t feel obligated to make polite conversation,” she said, wearily. “I know you’re not really interested.”

Her rebuke stung far more than he would have expected. Even if she was dead-on in her assessment. “I’m sorry if I come across as somewhat…gruff. One of the hazards of keeping to myself so much.” When she didn’t reply, he stole a glance at her profile. “And that’s the best I can do for an apology, so if you’re expectin’ more—”

“I’m not expecting anything, Aidan. I never was.” She paused, then added, “I never do.”

“Have you really had it that bad?” he said, and her head snapped around. After a moment, she shook it.

“No, actually,” she said, suddenly guarded. “There’s just…been a lot of disappointments along the way. A broken promise here, a broken heart there…”

A soft laugh preceded, “But, hey—I’ve got my dog, right? And I’ve got friends back home, and a house and a business…things could be a lot worse.” She hesitated, then said, “For what it’s worth, I think I’m an okay person. Should the subject ever arise with Robbie,” she added when Aidan frowned at her. “I don’t smoke, don’t drink enough to count, don’t cheat, don’t gamble—at least, not with money—and when I say I’ll do something, I do it. Like my degree—took me six years, but I did it.”

“And you don’t strike me as the academic sort.”

Winnie snorted. “We’re talkin’ early childhood education, not a doctorate in advanced physics. Or obscure English authors of the eighteenth century. Not that it was a walk in the park. You have no idea the psychology classes you have to take, just to teach elementary school.” She laughed again. “Little kids are so neat. And while I’m waiting on having my own—”

At her breath catch, Aidan’s head swung around. But she lifted one hand in a clear attempt to ward off his concern.

“Sorry, that kinda took me by surprise. So. Let’s talk about you.”

“You already know everyt’ing y’need to know.”

“If you mean that meeting with the lawyer nine years ago, I’m thinking an update’s probably in order.”

“And if your car hadn’t broken down, you would’ve left without your ‘update.’ And probably none the worse for not getting it.”

“True. But obviously I wasn’t meant to go home this morning.”

“It doesn’t necessarily follow we were meant to bond.”

“Ohmigosh. Was that an attempt at humor?”

“No.”

She laughed. And Aidan sighed, because deep down he wasn’t a bad person, either, just one who preferred his existence as complication-free as possible. So while he took some small pleasure in Winnie’s better mood, he took none whatsoever in…all the rest of it.

“And here we are,” he said, immensely grateful.

He pulled off the highway into the Auto Zone parking lot, fully aware of Winnie’s smirk. They got out of the truck, their doors slamming shut in rapid-fire succession, Winnie striking out across the lot a few feet ahead. Aidan hustled to catch up, barely noticing the flash of red parking lights, the roar of the SUV’s engine, a split second before the driver—clearly not paying attention—gunned the huge black monster backward.

“Jaysus!” he bellowed, hauling Winnie backward against his chest an instant before the tank-size vehicle would’ve flattened her. Bastard didn’t even slow down.

“Are you all right?” he said in Winnie’s ear, her heart pounding against his arm where he still held her fast across her ribs, her scent storming the gates of his self-preservation, and through the rush of adrenaline a memory whispered, over his skin, through his blood.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said on a rush of air. A beat passed. “You can let go now.”

He did; setting herself to rights—a tug here, an adjustment there—Winnie glared in the direction of the vanished car. “Dirtwad,” she muttered, then continued toward the entrance. Except she suddenly spun on Aidan and said, “You are such a phony,” and he said, “What?” and she said, with much gesticulating, “You might talk tough and all, do the whole I don’t give a damn about people routine, like that’s supposed to scare people off.” She yanked open the store’s door before he could do it for her. “Except anybody with two eyes in their head can see it’s all just a great big act.”

Inexplicably furious, Aidan grabbed Winnie’s arm as soon as they were inside. She whirled around, her expression a combination of irritation and curiosity. But fear? Not a bit of it.

“Believe me,” he snapped, his own heart pounding five times harder than hers had a moment ago, “I give a damn. About Robbie, about the people who matter to me. Just because I prefer to keep that circle small doesn’t mean I don’t care about the people who are in it.” He let her go. “Is that clear?”

Their gazes tangled for several seconds before, word-lessly, she headed toward the counter in back. And as she did, Aidan became acutely aware that every set of male eyes in the place veered to her like divining rods.

His forehead knotting, he tried desperately to see what they found so damned interesting and failed miserably. Yes, he supposed she had a way of moving that was somewhat…arresting. And what man in his right mind wouldn’t notice her hair, shiny as wet paint beneath the lights? Or the way her worn jeans cupped her legs and bottom below that soft as cream velvet jacket? But aside from that…Winnie was nothing extraordinary. Certainly not the kind of woman to make a man’s eyes bug out.

And certainly there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for the bizarre spike of jealousy whenever one of the local yokels gave her the eye.

Oddly, she had no problem with telling the balding, potbellied clerk exactly what they needed. To the man’s credit, he at least waited until Winnie’s gaze drifted elsewhere before looking to Aidan for a nod of confirmation. Then he vanished into the back, only to return moments later. With only the battery.

“Sorry, we don’t have the alternator in stock. But tell you what, let me see…” He started tapping on a computer keyboard in front of him. “Uh…yeah, I can get one of my Albuquerque stores to send one up tomorrow, if that’s okay. Or I can put it on hold if you want to drive on down there and pick it up yourself.”

“Damn,” Winnie muttered, then turned to Aidan. “I can’t possibly ask you to drive to Albuquerque. The round trip would take, what? Two hours, at least?”

“Probably three, this time of day.” Aidan gritted his back teeth. “But I don’t mind. Really.”

“Of course you mind, it would mean giving up most of your day. And then I wouldn’t be able to leave before late this afternoon, anyway. Call me crazy, but I’m not real big on driving through vast stretches of nothing after dark.” She turned to the clerk. “Any other supply stores in town?”

“Sure thing,” the very helpful clerk—clearly as spell-bound as every other male in the place—said, hauling a phone book up onto the counter. “Why don’t you go ahead and call around while I take care of those folks over there, then let me know what you decide, how’s that?”

With a huge sigh, Winnie pulled out her cell phone and started calling. Five minutes and as many phone calls later, she gave Aidan wide, spooked eyes.

Because, for reasons known only to God, there was not a single alternator that would fit her truck within fifty miles of Santa Fe.

One more day.

That much, she could handle, Winnie told herself as they headed back to Tierra Rosa, Annabelle panting hotly in her ear. Her skin prickled with the memory of those strong arms wrapped around her, the feel of warm, solid male chest against her back, and she thought, Okay, so it’s been a long time.

Of course, she reminded herself, Aidan had only been saving her life, it wasn’t like he wanted to hold her or anything, so it didn’t count. Her hormones snickered and said, Oh, believe me, honey…it counts.

Winnie hazarded a peek at his profile as they drove—the set jaw, the dour expression, the eyes focused straight ahead—and tried to figure out why in the name of all that was holy she was attracted to the man. Not in any logical kind of way, but on some very basic level that could really mess with her head if she let it.

Oh, sure, he was good-looking—if you were into the werewolf wannabe look—but that alone wasn’t enough to attract her to somebody. Anymore. Yeesh, she couldn’t even remember when she’d last gone stupid over a bunch of muscles and a cute smile. Not that Aidan’s smile—if he had one at all—was cute, although she dimly remembered that he’d sure smiled plenty when they’d first met, trying so hard to convince her he and June would be perfect parents for her baby…

Boom!

And that, boys and girls, was the sound of the reality boulder crashing into the middle of her very wayward thoughts. Because the bizarreness of her attraction to Aidan Black notwithstanding, his being her son’s adoptive father sure as heck called a screeching halt to that little fantasy, didn’t it—?

“Yes?” Aidan said beside her, his clipped response to his cell phone jarring her out of pointless musings. “I’m driving, Robbie, if a state trooper sees me, I’m screwed…No, Flo didn’t tell me, she mustn’t have known, either…Yes, of course, I’ll be right there.”

He tossed the phone into a cup holder and glanced over as a host of “uh-ohs” sprang to life in the pit of Winnie’s stomach. “Apparently Robbie neglected to tell anyone he had early dismissal today. Since Flo won’t be back until later, I need to pick him up.” He scratched his chin. “He’s already been waiting for fifteen minutes.” His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “And the school’s on the way back to the property. If I drop you off first, it adds another ten minutes—”

“Not a problem,” Winnie said, her throat clenching much farther down than throats normally clench.

More flexing. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Aidan. I put my big-girl panties on this morning, I can deal with it, okay?”

At least, she’d do her supercalifragilistic best.

Backpack thumping, hair flying, Robbie streaked toward them the instant they nosed into the school parking lot…only to come to a complete halt when he noticed Winnie. And, presumably, Annabelle, who’d thrust her head out Winnie’s open window to do her is-life-great-or-what? barking/quivering thing. Not until the kid got closer did Winnie notice the tear-tracked cheeks, his earlier upset now apparently forgotten in the combination of shock and apprehension at seeing Winnie again.

All of which he conveniently set aside long enough to hurl a very indignant, “How come nobody picked me up?” the moment he scrambled into the backseat with the dog.

“Because nobody knew they let you loose early today,” Aidan answered mildly, steering the truck back toward the road, and Winnie focused in front of her, hearing her child, smelling his father, trying not to combust.

“There was a notice and everything! It was in my backpack!”

“And you’re sure of that, are you? Because I certainly didn’t see it when I went through your backpack last night. But it’s all good now, right?” Aidan said, tossing Robbie a quick grin toward the back, which Winnie caught, nearly choking on her own sucked-in breath.

Oh, dear God—she’d totally forgotten the dimples.

While she’d been doing all this stealth breath-sucking, Annabelle had been concentrating on making it all better, as Annabelle was given to doing, and the boy’s indignation/apprehension had given over to peals of laughter. That’s how kids are supposed to sound, Winnie thought, and then Robbie said, through the giggles, “I thought you were s’posedta leave.”

“My truck had other ideas, honey. So I have to try again tomorrow.”

His head poked through the front seats, earning him a growled, “Robson! Seat belt!”

As he wriggled back to click his belt in place, though, he said, “Is it okay if Jacob comes over later, like around two? He said his mom said it was okay if it was okay with you.” And it occurred to her that Robbie loomed much larger on her radar—for obvious reasons—than she did on his.

She saw Aidan’s eyes jerk toward the rearview mirror, the shock scoot across his features. Winnie could practically hear the whirring in his head, that he’d already lost his morning, and now, with Robbie unexpectedly home from school and Florita gone, there went the afternoon, too. But he only nodded and said, “Sure. Why not?”

So much for the three-day grounding, Winnie thought, smiling, until Robbie said, “Winnie, too? Like right now, I mean, not later.” She wasn’t sure who stiffened more, Aidan or her.

“Um…” he said, and Robbie said, “Please?” and Winnie twisted around to say, “Oh, sugar…I don’t know…I’ve already taken up a lot of your father’s time, he probably needs to get back to work…”

“It’s okay,” Aidan muttered, and Winnie’s eyes darted to his face, silently pleading, Work with me here. A tactic that only works if the other person makes eye contact with you. Which, damn it all to hell, Aidan wasn’t doing.

So, because Robbie was now promising to make lunch himself if his Dad had stuff to do, Winnie sighed and thought, What could another few hours hurt? and said, “I’d love to,” and Robbie let out a “Yes!!!” behind her that both warmed and nearly broke her heart, all at the same time.

What’s going through your head? Aidan mentally directed to Winnie, as he followed her and Robbie from room to room. If nothing else, he was impressed by her ability to roll with the punches. To smile and laugh when he sincerely doubted she felt much like making merry.

He should take notes, he grumpily mused, at the same time thinking there’s nothing like a surprise guest to make you see your house through fresh eyes. The kitchen was Florita’s domain; beyond that, although she did her best to keep the dust bunnies from achieving world domination, she’d long since given up the good fight against the clutter.

Not that Aidan and June had been slobs, exactly, as much as obsessing about housework simply hadn’t been high on their list—hence their decision to hire a housekeeper. Although the great room, and June’s studio loft above it, were no longer command central for whatever causes June had been championing at the time, the space still had that air of perpetual upheaval about it, toys and magazines and June’s vast folk art collection spread out helter-skelter over furnishings that seemed to go out of their way to not match.

And his unexpected guest wasn’t missing a thing.

It startled Aidan to realize how much it mattered, what she thought. That she’d undoubtedly be seeking reassurance, even if only subconsciously, that she’d chosen well.

Especially when they came to Robbie’s room. Would she see the overflowing bookshelves and massive dinosaur model collection and constellation-decorated ceiling as evidence that they had, indeed, given him advantages she could never have afforded…or that they’d overindulged him? That they’d kept him safe…or isolated?

Did she see Aidan’s desire to spare Robbie the truth of her identity as rightly protective…or lamely suffocating?

Was she thinking, Oh, good…I did the right thing?

Or, Oh, God…what was I thinking?

“Dad!” Robbie said, startling him. “Do you have to follow us everywhere?”

The dismissal smarted out of all proportion to its intent as a red-faced Winnie muttered, “You know, honey, your daddy probably isn’t comfortable with leaving you alone with me, since I’m still basically a stranger.” As then her gaze swerved to Aidan’s, her brows lifted as if to say, Entirely your call, buddy.

Then Aidan saw in his son’s eyes a plea he didn’t entirely understand. Or like, frankly. Because somewhere along the line, things had slipped completely out of his control…even if on some deeper, undefined level Aidan understood that the more he tried to hang on to that so-called control, the more it would elude him. June had always been the one disposed to take life as it came, to trust events to unfold as they should…the very character trait that had drawn him to her to begin with. And, perhaps, the one he’d missed the most since her death.

So he was more than a little startled to hear himself say, “Not a problem, I’ll be off then to start lunch. Are grilled cheese sandwiches and soup from a tin all right? I’m not exactly a wizard in the kitchen.”

And in Winnie’s eyes he saw an unsettling blend of gratitude, compassion and a determination to stay strong that wrenched something loose inside him. “Soup and grilled cheese’ll be just fine and dandy,” she said, smiling and kind and forgiving and patient and flexible.

In other words, a right pain in the arse.