Читать книгу A Family After All - Kathy Altman - Страница 12
ОглавлениеEVEN AS HIS body yelled, Hell, yeah, his brain shouted, Bad effin’ idea. Marcus backed away but Liz followed. When a tree blocked his escape, she pushed even closer. He slid sideways, dropping the flashlight and grabbing on to her waist for balance. Her shirt had ridden up and the feel of her soft bare skin made him dizzy.
He froze. She froze. They stood chest to chest, zipper to zipper, and he could hardly hear the waterfall over the breaths ripping out of his throat.
She whispered his name and her mouth sought his. Before their lips could connect, he turned his head and reached for her hands. “I didn’t bring you here for this.”
“Maybe I came for this.”
“You’re sorry for me. I get it.”
“I’m not sorry for you, Marcus. I hurt for you. I want to...to...”
“Ease my pain?”
“Show I care.”
“This isn’t happening.”
“Tonight? Or ever?”
He nudged her away from him, intent on finding the flashlight so they could get out of there. He hadn’t handled this well. He hadn’t handled this well at all. She pressed close again and nuzzled his throat.
“Please, Marcus,” she murmured. “I’ll make it good for you.”
His lungs seized. He shoved her away, harder this time, so hard she stumbled and fell. His hands—hell, his entire body—shook. He collapsed back against the tree and struggled for air.
Don’t fight it, Marcus. You know you want it, Marcus. Hold still and I’ll make it good for you...
“What’s wrong?” Liz was crying, gasping as she got to her feet. She peered through her hair at him, eyes wide as she swatted at the debris that clung to her jeans. “What did I do?”
“Those words. I don’t want them in my head. Especially when I’m with you.”
“I’m sorry, I... How could I know? I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he gritted. “It’s not your fault.”
She wiped her face on her sleeve and crossed her arms. “It feels like it’s my fault.”
He found the flashlight and scooped it up. The dark was falling fast. He reached for her, thought better of it and faced her instead, hands awkward at his sides. “Liz, I’m not ready for this. I thought you understood.”
“I wanted to show you how much I care. How much you mean to me.”
“If you cared, you wouldn’t try to manipulate me.”
“Manipulate you?” She kicked at the freshly fallen gold-and-russet leaves. “I want to please you.”
“Why? What do you want with me? I’m damaged goods. You have no idea how damaged. I have a minimum-wage job, I live on the second floor of an old lady’s house and I drive a truck that’s older than I am.”
“I know all that. None of it changes how I feel about you. I like you, Marcus. A lot.”
“Here’s something you don’t know. I’m an ex-con.”
Her head came up at that. “You were in prison? What happened?” When he didn’t answer, she frowned. “Am I supposed to guess?”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“Tell me you’re a serial killer and I’ll worry. At the same time I’ll wonder why you’re already out of jail.”
His turn to frown. “I didn’t kill anyone. It was a fight. I started it. Pulled eighteen months for aggravated assault.”
“Why did you start it?”
“I was angry.”
“Because?”
“Point is, I’m an ex-con. You need to stay away from me.”
She snorted, then laughed when she saw his outrage. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re trying to scare me off because you’re scared yourself.” She moved closer and tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Tell me what started the fight.”
He hesitated, then leaned against the tree again. She stayed where she was, and he breathed a little easier. “I worked in a kitchen. At a restaurant. The owner had a thing for one of the busboys.”
“The owner was a man.”
“Not a man. A monster. One day he cornered the kid in the storage room and tried to make him—” Marcus fisted and unfisted both hands. “So I beat the shit out of him.”
“Was the kid okay?”
“Yeah. He was okay.”
“Did the monster go to jail?”
Marcus grunted. “Got out before I did.”
“When did you get out?”
“A few months before I came back to Castle Creek.”
“You came back to burn down the motel.”
“And Cal recognized me. You know the rest.”
“Do I?”
He didn’t know what she meant.
Her spine sagged, as if he’d failed some kind of test. “How are things with Cal?”
Marcus shrugged. “He’s still the same man who fed me whenever I ran away from the motel and ended up at the diner. He’s the one who called the cops, the one responsible for getting my stepfather arrested.” Too late to do much good, but at least the man had tried.
He stared through the gloom at the woman who was naive enough to think she could free him from his past. “Why are you still here?” he growled. “Why haven’t you run screaming for the truck?”
“One, I’m not wearing shoes. Two, you have the flashlight.”
He thrust the flashlight at her. She took it but didn’t move. He paced away, paced back, picked up a stick and started breaking pieces off and tossing them to the ground. Snap. Plop. Snap. Plop. Still she didn’t speak.
“How can you want me?” he said finally, hating the need behind his words. “After what I’ve done?”
“It’s true I don’t know what you’ve been through,” she said softly, her voice strangled. “But I do know it was bad. I also know it’s not so much what you’ve done but what’s been done to you. You’re a survivor. I respect that. I’m awed by that.”
She clicked the flashlight on, then back off. “The first time I saw you,” she whispered, “it was like I—I recognized you. Not your face but who you are. Inside.” She turned the flashlight back on. The white-yellow glow illuminated her perfect features. “I can be patient, Marcus. I admit I’m feeling less than sexy, but I can wait. You’re worth it. You’re so worth it.”
He had no idea what to say to that. To any of it. He couldn’t have talked anyway, since it felt as if that same big-ass tree he’d leaned against was lodged in his throat. As if to demonstrate that she meant what she said, she remained silent, waiting, as he tried to speak.
“Liz,” he said finally, his voice guttural. “You deserve better. I think it’s time we both moved on.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her response to be, but a dismissive sniff wasn’t it.
“Why?” she demanded, one hand on her hip. “Because you’ve been in jail?”
He nodded, and she exhaled loudly.
“Whew,” she said. “That’s okay, then.” Her grin outshone the flashlight’s beam. “We’re perfect for each other...because I’ve been in jail, too.”
* * *
IVY’S EARBUDS SERENADED her with the latest from Nickelback, which helped mask the mechanized roar of the Bobcat. Up and down the aisle between the bedding stalls she drove the loader, pushing manure, sand and wastewater toward the opening in the floor at the back of the barn. The opening led to a storage chamber underneath, where a horizontal auger pressed the manure into a pit. Thus Ivy had year-round access to her own fertilizer supply. She sold some of it, too—Parker used it for her greenhouses.
One more run down the center and she could start rinsing away the remaining manure with the pressure washer. Yeah, it was a dirty job. A twice-a-day one, too, because 110 Jerseys produced a lot of poo. Not as much as Holsteins, oddly enough, which was one reason Ivy was letting her Holstein population fade out. Sixty percent less poo to push.
Wade had teased that she enjoyed this part of the job way too much, but it made her feel good, spiffing up the place for the girls. She’d switched from organic bedding to sand for that reason—it was cleaner for the cows. Not that the barn stayed clean for long. Jersey girls knew how to party.
She steered the Bobcat out of the barn and into the sunlight, planning to park it near the milking shed, which was next up for a cleaning. She and Dell had already mixed the feed, fed and milked the cows and the calves, and washed the milkers after settling a cow into a separate pen when she’d come up lame. Ivy planned to check her out as soon as she finished with the Bobcat—hopefully, the poor animal had nothing more than a stone lodged in her hoof, which would easily be fixed with a hoof pick and a foot bath. But with Ivy’s luck, the prognosis wouldn’t be so straightforward. Already this morning she’d discovered she’d forgotten to order supplements and a truckload of sand. It had also slipped her mind that she’d agreed to board a friend’s horse for two weeks, and she didn’t have a stall prepared yet.
More mucking. Yay.
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Castle Creek’s librarian waving at her from the driveway. In fact, the big man was waving at her so hard he was creating a breeze. Ivy turned off the engine and jumped to the ground, glanced down at the sorry state of her boots and jeans, and shrugged.
No one should expect a dairy farmer to look fresh or smell sweet.
“Noble Johnson.” When Ivy reached the paved drive, she peeled off her right glove and held out her hand. “What’s my favorite python wrangler up to these days?”
Noble grinned, and despite the day she was having, Ivy found herself grinning back. With his massive frame and shoulder-length hair, the same white-blond as hers, he did not resemble the stereotypical librarian. Or book minder, as he liked to call himself.
The sound of an engine signaled someone else coming up the drive. Noble and Ivy both watched as Allison’s gray Camry came into view. Allison parked beside Noble’s pickup and Ivy bit her lip.
She had an apology to make.
“My snake-herding days seem to be behind me,” Noble said, and turned back to Ivy. “Joe hasn’t called to report any more exotic critters hiding out in his walls.” Allison walked up and he flashed her a smile. “But I do hear your motel menagerie will soon be expanding by one.” He pulled Allison close in a one-armed hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Noble.”
When Allison turned to Ivy, the latter spread her arms, revealing all her sweaty, dirt-streaked glory. “I’d hug you, but...”
Allison laughed and held up her hands. “Thanks. I’ll pass.”
“Decided on names yet?” Noble rubbed his chin. “I can give you a few suggestions.”
“Let me guess.” Allison winked at Ivy. “For a boy, Perry.”
“That’s right.” Noble’s face beamed with pleased surprise. “Can’t do a boy a better honor than naming him after ol’ Oliver Hazard.”
“You told me all about the Battle of Lake Erie, remember?”
Noble nodded and narrowed his eyes. “Now, for a girl...” He tapped a finger against his chin and ignored the mock trepidation on Allison’s face.
“How about naming her after Mary Boone?” he finally suggested. “She was born in Erie and was a huge influence in the New York art market in the ’80s.”
“Mary or Perry,” Allison mused, and patted his brawny shoulder. “Not bad. Tasteful, even. I was expecting something along the lines of Cornelia or Epenetus.”
“I have taste.” Noble sniffed, running a palm down his lime-green velour tie.
Ivy eyed his pristine khakis and burgundy button-down shirt, which provided an interesting backdrop for his tie. “You are looking spiffy today.”
“If you’re impressed now, you should stop by the library tomorrow. Check me out in my suit and tie.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Ivy asked.
He frowned. “The new-member reception for my book club, remember? That’s what the cheesecake is for.”
Ivy clamped both hands on her head as a prickly heat surged up her throat and into her cheeks. “The cheesecake. Oh, Noble. I forgot all about it.” His crestfallen expression made her feel worse.
“That’s okay,” he said slowly. “I’m sure I can pick something up from the diner. Unless...”
She ignored the panic roiling in her belly and concentrated instead on the fresh hope in his eyes. “Yes. Absolutely. I’ll make it tonight and drop it off before the reception tomorrow.”
By the time Noble finished pumping her hand in gratitude, her shoulder ached. After he left, she turned to Allison as she rubbed the sore spot.
“I owe you an apology. I should have called you yesterday to follow up after the meeting. I really am happy for you and Joe.”
Allison reached out and squeezed her elbow. “I know you are. But I’m the one who should apologize. I should have told you first, in private. Instead the words were coming out of my mouth and I couldn’t take them back and I knew I’d done a hateful thing. Please forgive me.”
“You were excited. Of course you were excited—having a baby is a big deal. You were surrounded by your friends and you wanted to share your news. There’s no need to apologize for that.” When Allison quirked an eyebrow, Ivy let loose a sigh. “Okay, fine. Yes, I was hurt you hadn’t told me first. Now that we’ve both said we’re sorry, can we call it even?”
“Ivy. I was there. I saw your face. There’s more to it, isn’t there?”
Ivy’s arms and legs felt suddenly heavy and she shivered.
Allison gave her arm a final squeeze and stepped back. “If you ever want to talk about it,” she said softly, “I’m here.”
“Thank you,” Ivy muttered, and cringed when she barely recognized her own voice. She cleared her throat. “You do realize I’m going to throw you one hell of a shower?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“I never did ask about Joe. How’s he handling all this?”
Allison’s smile was a beautiful thing to behold. “He can’t wait. He’s already changed his mind three times about the paint for the nursery. The good news is, he gets to do the painting.” She poked Ivy in the shoulder. “Now. About those cheesecakes. Want help making them?”
“Them?”
“If I’m going to help, I should get something out of it, don’t you think?”
A rush of gratitude warmed Ivy’s chest. “That would be fabulous, thanks.”
“Ivy.” Allison winced. “I also wanted to apologize for bringing up Evan last night. I know he’s a sore subject, and then we ended up having to explain to Parker who he was, and...well, I hope I didn’t sound like I was trivializing what happened.”
Ivy shook her head. “You were right. He’s a big part of the reason I’ll never be anything more than casual with a guy. It’s not worth the heartache of finding out your boyfriend’s a scheming asshat who only wants you because you can help boost his bottom line.”
“You know most guys are not like that.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Well.” Allison shrugged, and her expression turned teasingly superior. “One day you will. So I’ll see you around what? Seven?”
Ivy hoped like hell she’d have her chores done by then. “Tuna sandwiches okay?”
Allison considered. “Got pickles?”
“Bread and butter, baby.”
“Then you’re on.”
Ivy watched Allison’s car until it disappeared around a bend in the driveway. Once it did, she let her body sag and closed her eyes.
She’d have to do a better job hiding her feelings. It wasn’t fair to Allison, Joe or anyone else. Ivy was the one with the problem. Her friends shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around her because of it.
The equipment shed on the other side of the free-stall barn suddenly belched out a loud growling sound. Dell, checking out the tractor. Time to get back to work. Slowly, she turned back to the Bobcat and couldn’t help wondering how she’d manage to get it all done. Once she finished pushing manure, she had to check on her injured cow, conduct an inventory, call in an order and make an appointment with the nutritionist, who regularly adjusted the mix she fed her stock. Then the feeding and milking would begin all over again. And somewhere in there, she had to find time to buy groceries.
As much as she loved the farm, she couldn’t help wondering, every now and then, if she should have just sold it eight years earlier, after the cruise ship her parents were traveling on sank off the coast of Santorini. Seemed Ivy was still trying to prove she was capable of more than her mom and dad had ever given her credit for.
And still trying to make up for the mistakes she’d made.
She dragged in a breath and hesitated. More noisy rumbling, this time coming from behind her. Ivy turned and blinked. That was a school bus lumbering up the driveway.
Oh, God.
Apparently she had a tour today.
Her heart thudded dully, and it suddenly hurt to breathe. Two days without Wade and already she was falling apart. She’d thought she could manage. Why couldn’t she manage?
She had to manage.
She rolled her shoulders up and back, shifted a grimace into a smile, and headed for the bus full of laughing, chattering children.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Ivy hit her sleep-deprived stride. With a carefully crafted regimen of coffee, chocolate and the occasional ten-minute catnap, she figured she could handle being two men down, at least until she collected some serious prospects for Wade’s job. So far her only applicant was the manager of a fast-food restaurant in Erie, who’d worn dress shoes and a silk tie to the interview. He’d had all kinds of nifty ideas for upgrading her recordkeeping, but the instant he set foot in the dairy barn, the dry heaves had started. He hadn’t realized the position would be so hands-on, he’d explained.
“Feet-in,” she figured he’d meant. But what did he expect from a building full of digesting Jerseys?
She was hunched over her laptop in her office, updating her animal healthcare records and trying not to visualize Seth with Olivia Duncan, when the doorbell rang. Woot! Dinner had arrived. No way could she face another tuna sandwich, no matter how much fun she and Allison had had the night before.
Ivy hurried to the door, her socks pulling her into a slide the last few feet. She tugged Liz Early inside and gave her a one-armed hug, careful not to bump the bag of goodies her friend carried.
“Oh, my God, that smells divine.” She led Liz into the kitchen and patted the table. While Liz set the plastic bag down and struggled to untie the handles, Ivy produced a pair of scissors and snipped the knot right off. One by one she pulled out the warm containers, so excited by the freedom of not having to drag something together for dinner that she gave Liz another hug.
“You’re a sweetie for delivering,” she said. “Especially on a Saturday. I owe you one. Dell does, too. I made him two grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch today and I thought he was going to break into tears.”
No response. Ivy looked up to find Liz staring, hand over her mouth.
“Jeez, Ivy,” Liz breathed. “What happened to your eye?”
Ivy winced. “I’ve been avoiding the mirror. How’s it look?”
“Painful. Did you put anything on it?”
“A bag of frozen Brussels sprouts.”
Liz’s expression graduated from dismayed to horrified. “Brussels sprouts? You don’t actually eat those, do you?”
“A couple of years ago, when June Catlett was on her underappreciated-foods kick, I promised her I’d give them a try, but I’ve never been able to work up the courage.”
“I remember that. She came into Snoozy’s hoping we’d add cardoons to the menu.”
“What the heck are cardoons?”
“They’re like artichokes, only you eat the stalks. Snoozy never had any on hand, but there they were, on the menu. Luckily, no one ever ordered them.” She leaned in for a closer look at Ivy’s eye. “How’d you do it?”
“I tripped in the milking shed. Ended up with a face full of wall.”
Liz hissed in a sympathetic breath. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Oh, I have plans for this eye. If Dell calls in sick tomorrow because he can’t face another grilled cheese, I’ll moan and groan and lay it on thick. I’ll describe in vivid detail the purples and greens. If that doesn’t work, I’ll tell him we’re having Snoozy’s chili for lunch. He’ll be here before I hang up the phone. Thanks again for the special delivery.”
Liz offered a smile that didn’t carry her usual glow. Ivy wanted to kick herself. Even with one good eye, she should have noticed it sooner.
“Snoozy recruited someone to cover for me while I’m gone, so it’s no problem,” Liz said. “He was thrilled to get your order. He pretty much emptied the pot. I haven’t seen him grin so big since Mitzi came home.”
“How’s that working out, by the way? Having her enclosure right there in the bar?” Ivy fished her checkbook out of her purse.
“Freaked me out at first. But I’m used to it now. It’s not like she moves around much, and as long as I don’t have to watch her eat, I’m good. Besides, ever since Snoozy put that sign out front advertising his python petting zoo, business has definitely picked up. More customers means more tips, so I’m stoked.”
Uh-huh. Ivy kept one eye on Liz as she ripped the check free. “You don’t look stoked.”
Liz accepted the check and flushed. “That’s quite a tip.”
“You did me quite a favor. Saved me a lot of time and heartache.” She tapped the nearest carton. “It’s the heartburn that’s really going to cost. But it’ll be so worth it.”
Liz tucked the check into her jacket pocket. “Do you have a few minutes? I was hoping we could talk. I know you’re busy...”
“Never too busy for you.” Ivy gave herself a mental pat on the back for sounding as if she meant it. She pushed the cartons aside, pulled out a chair for Liz and plopped down onto its twin. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Wine?” Oh, damn. She didn’t have any wine.
Liz shook her head and shrugged out of her jacket. Ivy shoved the cartons a little farther away. Did they have to smell so damned good? She glanced around the kitchen, desperate for a distraction from the spicy siren call of the chili. The forlorn look on Liz’s face did the trick.
“What’s going on?” Ivy asked gently.
“It didn’t work.”
“What didn’t work?”
Liz bit her lip. “Marcus. Me. Sex.”
Ivy grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Liz stumbled through a laugh. “No need to look so horrified. I didn’t suddenly find out he’s gay or into BDSM. He didn’t fail to perform or anything. We never got that far. He blew up at me for pressuring him, then said he thought it was time for us both to move on.”
“Oh, no. Oh, Liz.” And oh, dear Lord, did that sound familiar. Ivy ignored the hollow feeling in her chest. This isn’t about you. She cleared her throat. “Did Marcus give you any reason at all for the breakup? Besides feeling pressured, I mean?”
“He told me why, but it was totally not a valid reason, and I tried to argue, but...” Liz shrugged. “When he drove me home, he didn’t say anything except to tell me to take care of myself.” Her face collapsed, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “I screwed up. I wanted to show him how much I love him, and instead I ended up chasing him away. I couldn’t even get him to kiss me.”
Ivy leaned forward. “You can fix this. Just tell him you understand. Tell him if he needs more time, he can have it.”
“I did say all that. He didn’t go for it. Even if he had, how much more time do I give him? Months? Years? If I don’t pressure him at all, then where’s his motivation to sleep with me?”
Ivy didn’t know how to answer that one. “I guess what you need to decide is how long you’re willing to wait.”
“I’m not sure that’s even an option anymore.” Liz hung her head, and her curly blond hair tumbled to cover her face. When she looked back up, her eyes had dulled. She rubbed a palm against her chest. “Ivy, he said goodbye like...like there wouldn’t be another hello.”
Ivy straightened, feeling as useless as a fork in a soup bowl. “I’m so sorry.” She’d driven Seth away like Liz had driven Marcus away. What advice could she possibly give? “Have you considered talking to Allison? She knows Marcus better than any of us.”
“I thought about it, but if he ever found out, he’d be humiliated. I couldn’t do that to him.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. Drew in a deep breath. “That’s really something, isn’t it? I mean that Allison’s going to be a mom.”
Ivy braced herself for the familiar little clutch of pain. Yep, there it was. Hello, old friend.
“I want that,” Liz said softly. “I want with Marcus what Allison has with Joe.”
An image of Seth taunted Ivy, and her ready words of encouragement faded. All she could manage was a nod.
Resignation chased the daydreams from Liz’s face. “I need to get back to work. I’m sorry to bother you with all of this.” She got to her feet and pushed the chair under the table. “Thank you again for the generous tip.”
They hugged, Ivy’s own desperation echoed in the rigor of Liz’s fingers on her back. Minutes later, she waved from her porch as the little blue car disappeared down the driveway.
Some tip.
Sorry, I can’t help you. Find someone else to talk to.
With a sigh, she shuffled back into the kitchen, grabbed two of the containers and turned to put them in the fridge.
So much for her appetite.
* * *
SETH SLAPPED HIS cards facedown on the table and sagged back against his chair. “Fold.”
“Judas Priest, Walker.” Joe shot him a disgusted look. “That’s got to be the tenth time tonight. You don’t get your act together, we’re going to boot you out of the club.”
“We can’t boot him out.” Noble brandished the remains of a sub thicker than his wrist. “He’s the only one of us who knows how to make a decent sandwich.”
Gil Cooper, owner of Cooper’s Hardware and Seth’s off-road-biking buddy, lifted his bottle of beer. “Plus he’s just now learning that a good brew isn’t supposed to look like lemonade and smell like three fat guys trapped in a two-man tent.”
“And he has a daughter who bakes.” Former marine Harris Briggs was a chewing-gum addict, an infamous grump and the part-time manager of Castle Creek Growers. He waved a chocolate chip cookie in the air. “Forget quarters. We should play for these little gems.”
Joe snatched the cookie out of the air, took a bite and shook his head at Seth. “You know what your trouble is?”
“Yeah. I’m not getting enough sleep.”
“Neither am I, but it’s not because I’m too stubborn to take what’s on offer.” Joe dodged a balled-up napkin. “I’m just sayin’. She wants you, too.”
“Who’re we talking about?” Gil didn’t realize his cards were angled for the whole table to see. There was a reason his stack of chips was shorter than everyone else’s.
Seth hesitated, then muttered, “Ivy Millbrook.”
“That’s my kind of trouble,” Gil said, and smirked when Seth glared.
“You’re going to have trouble of your own if you don’t keep your cotton-pickin’ hands to yourself,” Harris growled at Joe, who was hogging the plate of cookies.
“Now, boys, play nice.” Gil stretched across the table, knocking over three towers of poker chips and an empty beer bottle in the process. The bottle clattered off the edge and hit the linoleum with a hollow clunk. Undeterred, Gil scooped a handful of cookies off the Hello Kitty platter. He tossed a couple at Noble and sat back down. Everyone else exhaled and straightened up out of the human shields they’d formed around their own bottles and stacks.
“What about Olivia Duncan?” Noble asked through a mouthful of cookie. “She’s cute. I saw you two in Mama Leoni’s parking lot last night. How’d that work out?”
Seth scowled. “It didn’t.”
“Because it’s not Olivia keeping Seth up at night.” Joe tucked in his chin and peeked at his cards. “Now, are we going to finish this game or not?”
“He’s got something good,” Noble said, disgusted, and threw down his cards. Ignoring Joe’s bark of protest, he squinted at Seth.
“What’s up with you and Ivy? You two like each other, so why’ve you spent the past year ducking and weaving? Hit the canvas, already.”
Seth squeezed the back of his neck. “That guy she was engaged to a few years back.” He looked at Joe. “What was his name?”
“Evan.”
“Evan. Right. Apparently the bastard did a number on her, because she’s convinced commitment’s a four-letter word.”
“She’s gun-shy.” Noble nodded sagely. “I get that.” When Joe snorted, Noble spread his hands. “What? Haven’t you ever wondered why this prime piece of bachelor booty is still on the market?”
Joe checked out the big man’s bright yellow Read Books, Not T-shirts tee, which he wore with a paint-stained pair of black leather motorcycle pants and emerald green high-tops. “No.”
“I’ve been wonderin’,” Harris spoke up. When everyone stared, he flushed. “On behalf of the ladies, that is.”
“I’m no stranger to heartbreak.” Noble patted his solar plexus. “It takes a brave human being to risk that kind of pain again.”
Gil screwed up his eyes. “It takes a brave human being to risk looking directly into your outfit.” He shook his head at Seth. “I don’t get it. Sounds like Ivy wants no-strings sex. With you. What’s the problem? I’d be all over that.”
“Would you?” Seth asked softly.
Gil blanched. “The opportunity. I’d be all over the opportunity, not the lady in question.” He grabbed his beer and cocked his head. “I take it back. I’d be thrilled to hit that and you should be, too.”
Seth started around the table toward him and Gil popped to his feet. It took him two strides to get tangled up in a chair. He fell on his ass and Joe shook his head.
“You’d have to talk to her first,” Joe said. “During and after wouldn’t hurt, either. Sure you’re up for that?”
Gil offered up a silly grin as Joe helped him to his feet. “I can talk to a girl. Just ask the one I’m dating.”
“Virtual chicks don’t count,” Noble yelled.
“Neither do the ones who ask for money,” Joe added.
“Screw all of you.” Gil squinted at Seth. “You’re seriously not putting out till there’s a ring on your finger?”
“It’s not about the ring, assholes.” Seth dropped back into his chair. “It’s about commitment. I don’t want my kids to see a parade of women coming in and out of my house.”
“So don’t bring ’em home.” Harris had given up on the cookies. He fished a pack of spearmint gum from the pocket of his plaid shirt. Cellophane crinkled. “That’s what motels are for.”
“Not my motel,” Joe growled.
“Parade of women, huh?” Gil rolled his eyes. “Don’t you need a permit for an ego that size?”
Seth ignored him. “Bottom line is, I have to set an example for my kids.”
“Good for you, man.” Joe nodded solemnly. “They’ll erect a statue in your honor.”
“A special-order one.” Noble leaned forward. “With blue balls.”
Seth gave him a dirty look while Joe hooted and Gil offered Noble a sloppy high five.
“Speaking of rings—” Joe leaned back in his chair “—I’m thinking about getting one.”
Noble scratched his chin. “For your nose or your—” he raised his eyebrows at Joe’s lap “—love muscle?”
Joe blinked. “Love muscle? Seriously?”
Gil’s expression was dubious. “You going to pop the question?”
“Thinking about it,” Joe said. “Though I don’t know what I’ll do if she turns me down.”
An uneasy silence, broken by an occasional plastic chink as Gil busied himself restacking his chips. Abruptly, Joe straightened and turned to Harris.
“Harris, man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
The older man waved him off. “Don’t go gettin’ your dress over your head,” he said gruffly. “Yeah, I turned Eugenia down, but I had good reason and she knows it. You get that ring. That young woman of yours won’t say no.”
Noble gave Joe an elbow to the ribs. “You planning on telling them what is going to happen, instead of getting us all worked up about what might happen?”
Seth stood and started gathering the empties. “I knew you were a little too happy about lending me your truck. What’s up, Gallahan?”
Joe leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. “It’s like this, guys.” There was no mistaking the giddy in his gaze, and Seth figured it out the instant before Joe spilled. “Allison’s pregnant.”
Shouts and backslaps followed, quickly turning into whispers and knuckle bumps when Seth warned his guests that if they woke up his kids, he’d be serving tea and cucumber sandwiches the next time he hosted poker night. Ever the librarian, Noble asked, “When you say cucumber, you talking English or Armenian?”
Joe reached for the last cookie. “Any advice for a father-to-be?” He cut his eyes at Noble. “I’m talking to those of us who have a kid, not those of us who act like one.”
Gil belched, long and loud. “That leaves us all out.”
“Hold on.” Noble folded his arms across his massive chest and watched Seth carefully set the empties in a recycling bin. “The kids are with your ex every other weekend, so why can’t you do your parading around then?”
“Because that’s not what I want,” Seth growled. He offered up a half smile and a shrug. “That’s not all I want. Besides, I won’t have her thinking I’m ashamed of her.”
With a snick, Gil popped the top of another brew. “But if she’s good with it—”
“I’m not. End of story. Now how about we turn the conversation back to our baby daddy here?”
A sob sliced through their banter. “Dad!”
For an instant, Seth went rigid.
“Daddy!”
He sprang to his feet and sprinted to his daughter’s bedroom. His heart rammed his chest as his friends thundered after him. Grace’s door was open, her room dark. Why was it dark? He slapped the light on and blinked in the sudden glare.
Grace had shoved herself back against the headboard. She sat with her knees to her chest, her small fists holding the edge of the blanket to her chin. “Someone turned out the light.” Strands of brown hair clung to her damp cheeks, and mucus dripped from her nose.
Seth strode over and gathered her close. She sobbed and trembled against his chest as he rocked her.
“Bad dream?” Joe hovered inside the door while Noble and Gil peered over his shoulder.
Seth pointed to the outlet by the door. “Her ballerina night-light’s missing.” It had been there when he’d tucked her in. She’d never have let him leave the room otherwise.
Harris came in with a glass, water sloshing onto the carpet as he stepped around books and shoes and piles of clothing. Noble followed, head craning left and right as he searched the cluttered floor. “I don’t see it. Could Travis have taken it?”
Seth was wondering the same thing.
Right on cue, his son staggered into the room, rubbing his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Grace’s night-light.” Seth set the water aside and held out an arm. Travis shuffled over and Seth pulled him in close, loving the feel of his son’s sleep-warmed body. “Have you seen it?”
Travis shrugged, and Seth swallowed a frustrated oath. Dammit, he was tired of things disappearing. Which one of his kids was playing games? Grace wasn’t faking her fear. Had she removed the night-light, set it somewhere and then forgotten where she’d put it?
She’d stopped crying. Seth felt her jaw move against his heart as she yawned. “Hey.” He eased her away and kissed her on the forehead. “How about we leave the hall light on for tonight and get you a replacement night-light tomorrow? Will that work?”
She nodded sleepily. Seth leaned over and kissed Travis, as well. “Okay, Tiger. Back to bed.”
“I’ll take him.” Gil took Travis’s hand and steered the little boy toward the door. “Maybe on the way you could tell me where I can find myself a pair of those killer jammies. Is that the Hulk?”
“It’s Martian Manhunter,” Travis said in a voice dripping with disgust.
While Noble picked up a doll from the floor and positioned her in a nearby chair, Joe stepped out of the room to turn on the hall light. Seth settled his daughter back under the sheets and smoothed her hair from her face.
“What if I have another bad dream?” she mumbled, eyes already closed.
“I’ll come running.”
“All of you?”
Seth grinned. “If you want.”
“I want.” She rolled over onto her side, rubbed her cheek against her pillow and fell asleep.
Two minutes later, the guys had resumed their seats around Seth’s kitchen table. Silence reigned until Gil dropped his hands to the table and exhaled loudly. “Who the hell is Martian Manhunter, anyway?”
“Member of the Justice League. Pals with Superman?” When Gil still looked lost, Noble made a tsk tsk sound. “What’d you read when you were a kid, Cooper? Trixie Belden?”
Seth glanced around the table. Someone had to say it. “Who’s Trixie Belden?”
Noble rolled his eyes. “Heathens.”
Harris’s cards lay abandoned beside him as he twisted his beer bottle in a halting circle. “Your daughter do that a lot?”
“Have bad dreams? Since the divorce, yeah. More often since these two geniuses—” Seth gestured with his beer at Joe and Noble “—found that damned python and couldn’t stop bragging about it.”
“Don’t go blaming me,” Noble protested. “Joe found her. All I did was help pull her out of the wall.”
Gil exaggerated a shudder. “It’s a wonder you two aren’t having nightmares.”
Joe waved a careless hand. “I haven’t woken up screaming in weeks. Anyway, it was Allison who found her.” He tapped a red chip against the table absently. “Parker said something once about Nat having nightmares. She said they read books together about kids conquering their fears and played flashlight tag so Nat wouldn’t be so scared of the dark.”
“Monster spray.” Harris cleared his throat and lifted his beefy shoulders in a self-conscious shrug. “When my daughter was little, we put a bottle of monster spray by her bed. Worked like a charm.”
“Judas Priest.” Joe rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’m not ready for this.”
“You’ll be fine.” Seth lifted his beer. “To Joe. May he be a better father than he is a poker player.”
“Like that’ll be hard,” muttered Noble, and considered the crumbs on his plate. “Know what goes great with pale ale? Cheesecake.”
While Harris choked on his beer, Joe made a face. “Didn’t you get your fill at the library last night?”
