Читать книгу A Man Worth Loving - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 11

SAMMY SHOWED UP ON THE JOB SITE surly and nursing an aching head, and certainly in no mood to deal with either of his older brothers when Dean barked at him.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Glad to see you can tell time,” Sammy grumbled as he buckled his tool belt into place. “I overslept.”

Both his brothers exchanged a knowing look and Sammy wanted to put his fist through both of their mugs. “How’s the new nanny working out?” Josh asked.

“Fine.” If you don’t mind the idea of being mothered by a woman who made you feel ten inches tall one minute and oddly turned on in the next. Yeah…it’s great. “She’s good with the kid,” he admitted, hefting a large cement bag onto his shoulder with a grunt. “That’s all that matters, right?”

He considered the strange twist of being attracted to her. Frankly, he was hot for anything in a skirt these days but his tastes were pretty predictable. In the old days, before Dana, the thrill of the chase was what got his motor running. Then he met Dana and everything he ever thought he knew about women went right down the toilet. Dana had been cool and distant at first but once he cracked that nut…she’d been fiery and passionate, a woman who could match his appetite bite for bite. An ache so sharp it made him suck in a wild breath almost caused him to drop his load but he recovered before either of his keen-eyed brothers—who continually regarded him like he was on a suicide watch or something—could catch it.

“You gonna stand there gawking at me like a bunch of girls or get to work?” he asked, annoyed when neither seemed inclined to return to their tasks. He dropped the cement bag and went to get another one. “You’re giving me the willies staring at me like that.”

It was Josh who spoke first. “We’re worried about you,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You’re screwing up. And the way you treat Ian…” At Sammy’s scowl, Dean paused but then revved up again. “Annabelle is upset and if Annabelle’s upset then you’d better believe that I’m going to get involved.”

“Butt out,” Sammy warned, trying to walk away, but Dean grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him around to face him. Sammy eyed his brother and practically dared him to push the issue. “Watch it, Dean. The days where you can grab me like a snot-nosed kid are over. I’ll lay you out if you grab me again.”

Dean grinned. “Go ahead and try, Sammy. Might be the best thing for you to get your stupid head knocked around.”

Josh intervened. “Knock if off, both of you. Ma sees either of you with black eyes she’s going to give us all matching ones. Listen, Sam, we’re your brothers…we just don’t want to see you make a mistake you can’t take back.”

Sammy shrugged off Dean’s grip and bent down to grab another cement bag. He hefted it with a grunt. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got your own lives to worry about. Wives…babies…surely that’s enough to keep you out of my business.”

“It would be if you’d stop tomcatting around every honky-tonk bar from here to Coldwater. What’s gotten into you?” Dean asked, the disgust in his tone mirroring what Sammy had heard in Aubrey’s voice last night.

A pang of anguish reminding him just how screwed up he was made him grin like a jackal as he answered, “I’m grieving. Can’t you tell?”

Dean’s face darkened and Sammy knew he’d gone too far. He half hoped Dean would lay him out. He certainly deserved it. “You sure as hell don’t look like you’re grieving to me. How do you think it makes Annabelle feel to hear around town about all the women you’re nailing like the end of the world is around the corner when her best friend—your supposed beloved wife—died just six months ago? It’s killing her! The other day she burst into tears because of some story she heard about you and some former coworker of Dana’s getting it on outside the bar, in the damned alley! What is wrong with you!”

“Tell your wife to mind her own business,” Sammy said and turned to walk away.

And that was the final straw. But it wasn’t Dean who threw the punch.

It was Josh.

Sammy hit the ground and went into blissful oblivion.

AUBREY BUNDLED IAN UP AGAINST the chill so the boy could have some outside play time before it got too cold to enjoy the fall season. Walking the perimeter of the property, she drew a deep breath of the crisp air and smiled at the rustic beauty of the area, such a stark contrast from where she grew up. Here there were rolling hills of trees and brush, not a manicured lawn in sight, but it took her breath away. So gorgeous. She could imagine Ian running free, weaving in and out of the trees, playing cops and robbers, jumping in mud puddles, and ending the day covered head to toe in dirt. A warm smile followed. How awesome. Then she sighed. “Perhaps if fate hadn’t been so cruel as to take your mama and leave you with that self-absorbed man you know as your father, I’d say you were a lucky boy. But sometimes fate is cruel, sweet baby. That is something you may very well learn when you get older,” she murmured to Ian, whose cheeks had pinked to a rosy hue and his delighted smile seemed to say that he agreed with her. Impulsively, she bent down and pressed a quick kiss on his crown. Oh, you shouldn’t have done that, a voice warned inside her head, but she immediately pushed it aside, even though the advice was sound. But babies need love and affection, she protested. It wasn’t like the boy’s father was going to provide it. She rounded the back side of the house and gasped with pleasure when she saw the young apple tree, bursting with fresh apples, some of which had dropped to the ground to rot.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had an apple tree growing in your backyard?” she asked Ian playfully as he watched her with happy eyes. “I’ll bet your mom planted this tree when she and your dad got married.”

She moved closer and noted the variety of the tree was written on a small tag. “A self-pollinating Gala,” she read. She didn’t know much about apple trees but she was open to learning. Somehow she knew keeping this tree alive and blooming for the future would’ve been important to Dana. Plucking an apple, she took an exploratory bite. Juice dribbled down her chin and the crisp flavor was like manna from heaven. “Ohh, this is good,” she said. Then looked again to Ian, an idea forming in her mind. “I’ll bet your mom has a basket or a bucket we can find that she used to pick these apples. Let’s find it.”

Just as she figured, Aubrey was able to find a large basket in the laundry room, tucked into the far reaches of the cabinet above the washing machine. She brushed it out, then she and Ian headed back outside to ease the burden of that beautiful apple tree.

SAMMY WAS STILL IN A PISSY mood when he got home, in spite of stopping by the bar first for a beer. His jaw ached where Josh had clocked him and a bruise was beginning to shadow the stubble on his chin. He wasn’t sure which was worse—the fact that he’d deserved that punch or the low to which he’d sunk in his mind. It was as if he was in a downward spiral he couldn’t do anything to stop and everyone around him was trying to help but he was gunning for that fateful moment when he went splat against the concrete. If Dana were here she’d no doubt tell him to quit feeling sorry for himself. A sad smile lifted his mouth, but only for a moment. He couldn’t think of Dana. Maybe if Ian didn’t look so much like her….

He opened the door and was hit with the savory aroma of something he hadn’t smelled in a long time. Apple pie.

Entering the kitchen, the smell triggered a memory that nearly sent him to his knees. He slowed, let his eyes close and sank into the past.

Suddenly, it was September of last year, and Sammy had come home to that same tantalizing aroma.

“Damn, girl, what is that amazing smell?” he’d said, whipping his ball cap off and tossing it to the hat stand by the door. He saw Dana in the kitchen, pregnant, flour in her hair, the room looking as if a bomb had gone off, there was sweat dampening her forehead and one perfect apple pie cooling on the counter. He’d never been so conflicted by his desire to eat pie and make love to his wife. In the end, he did both. Right there on the kitchen floor.

“I thought you might like a pie made from our very own apple tree,” she’d said huskily, her voice retaining the warmth created by their lovemaking. She propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at him as he lay on his back recuperating. “I had no idea pie has this kind of effect on you,” she teased, her brown hair falling forward to tickle his face.

“You have this kind of effect on me,” he murmured, pulling her down to his mouth, savoring everything about his wife. “But I do love pie,” he added playfully.

“I love you,” she said softly.

The echo of Dana’s whispered sentiment brought him crashing back to the present, and he found Aubrey staring at him, an uncertain expression on her face.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a strangled tone.

“I…took Ian for a walk and discovered the apple tree…and they were just dropping on the ground,” she said, faltering. “I didn’t think you would mind if I put them to good use.”

“Well, I do mind,” he said, shaking with pain. He had a vision of grabbing the ax and chopping the damn tree down so he never had to deal with this happening ever again. But then he noticed that she’d been very busy while he’d been at work. Not only had she baked a pie but she’d made applesauce for Ian and that’s what she’d been doing when he walked in, putting the sauce into small containers for later use. He choked down the angry words that bubbled to the surface as he remembered Dana talking about how she’d hoped to do that very thing for their child. She’d been so excited to be a mother, she wanted nothing but the best for the baby—and apparently the best had included homemade applesauce.

Aubrey stiffened and her mouth tightened as she offered a terse apology. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about letting the apples go to waste. I won’t do it again,” she said.

“Forget it,” he bit out, hating the gruff quality of his voice. “I…” He tried to apologize but he couldn’t get the words out. Instead, he just turned on his heel and headed to the shower. She was his employee. He didn’t owe her explanations.

TEARS STUNG AUBREY’S EYES but she managed to hold them back until Sammy stalked from the room. It was ridiculous, she thought, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand before returning to her task. Did he have to be such an ass? She twisted a lid onto the last container and stuck it in the freezer with the rest she’d made. She wiped down the counter and put everything in its place then prepared Ian for his bath.

She took great care to avoid looking in the direction of Sammy’s bedroom, but she couldn’t help wondering what had caused him to snap like that. She didn’t want to but she saw the pain in his eyes, and it softened her just a little toward him. Oh, stop that. He’s not a stray, injured dog you can nurse back to health. He’s a grown man acting like a spoiled, selfish child. Steer clear. Odd, how that scolding came straight at her in the voice of her mother. She rolled her eyes at herself and repressed a grateful shudder that the voice was only in her head and not being delivered in person.

After a quick bath and a bottle of milk, Aubrey put Ian to bed. As soon as Ian’s eyes drifted shut, she went to Sammy’s bedroom and gave the door a soft knock.

“Mr. Halvorsen…. I’m taking off. Ian—” She was startled when the door opened abruptly and Sammy stood there, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression stark. She straightened and continued. “As I was saying, Ian has had his bath and his dinner. He’s asleep in his bed. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

He shook his head and she turned. His voice at her back made her stop.

“I’m sorry for…snapping at you,” he said quietly.

She nodded, but the motion was stiff. Still, since he was extending an olive branch of sorts, she’d do the same. “I apologize for not asking first. I realize it was presumptuous of me to assume you wouldn’t mind if I put the apples to use.”

“Does he like the applesauce you made for him?” he asked.

“He does. Very much.”

He ran his tongue across his lip and it was then Aubrey noticed the swelling along his jaw.

“What happened to you?” she asked, appalled at the injury and his apparent disregard for his own care. “Come here,” she instructed, forgetting for the moment that she thought he was the lowest of all men who hardly deserved more than a cursory glance much less her help. She led him to the kitchen where the light was better and then set about putting together an ice pack. “Was this a fight?”

“Something like that,” he answered with a shrug.

“Kiss the wrong girl? One with a husband perhaps?” she muttered and he chuckled darkly as he accepted the ice pack and set it against his jaw.

“Nothing like that. My brother wanted to teach me some manners.”

“Your own brother did this?” she repeated, horrified.

“Yeah.” He paused, then added, “I said something I shouldn’t have.”

“So you deserved it?”

He lifted the ice pack. “Josh wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t feel it was justified. Now, if it’d been Dean…he has more of a temper. And he’s been known to swing a few punches here and there. Just ask Aaron Eagle. He’s felt the sting of my brother’s fist. But he had it coming, too.”

“Who is Aaron Eagle?” she asked.

Sammy tried to grin but the effort cost him and he winced instead. He waved away her question. “Nobody. Just a guy my brother Dean doesn’t much care for. Dean clocked Aaron one day at a construction site. But trust me, the guy had it coming.”

“Sounds like your brothers are a couple of violent ruffians,” Aubrey observed, not quite sure what to think of this information. She only knew Dean by association through Annabelle and Mary and it was hard to reconcile this image of the eldest Halvorsen brother with what she was hearing.

“Are you still fighting with your brothers?” she asked cautiously. She didn’t mean to pry—it certainly fell under the category of none of her business—but she was curious.

“Probably,” came his bleak answer. He studied the ice pack in his hand, turning it slowly. He looked at her. “You got brothers or sisters?” he asked.

Startled by his question, she only stared for a moment. He mistook her hesitation and waved away her need to answer but for some reason she wanted to. “I have a twin sister,” she said.

He eyed her. “Someone who looks just like you or the other kind?”

“Someone who looks just like me,” she said, then added with a fierce glower, “but we’re nothing alike. She’s more like our mother. I take after my father.”

“Where are you from?”

How to answer…She supposed she was from Manhattan but really, her family had houses all over the place. They’d wintered in Manhattan, summered in the Hamptons, it was all so cliché. Her mother had made sure the Rose family was always in the right social circles, attended the right parties, dressed to impress. The whole shallow, superficial nonsense made Aubrey want to gag. Noting Sammy’s expectant expression, she made something up. “Vermont.”

Why she said Vermont she hadn’t a clue but for some reason she couldn’t just admit that she’d grown up a privileged nomad, living mostly in hotel penthouses and the occasional sumptuous cottage. Vermont sounded rustic and accessible. She tried to smile but gave up when it felt forced. Returning to what was safe, she gestured to the ice pack. “You need to keep that on or the swelling won’t go down. Tomorrow, your jaw will be sore,” she advised, grabbing her purse to leave. “Good night, Mr. Halvorsen.”

SAMMY WATCHED AS AUBREY LEFT, bothered by her stiff manner with him. She persisted in calling him Mr. Halvorsen, which made him feel like an old man, and she made sure there was an invisible line between them that she didn’t even come close to crossing. That’s a good thing, his inner voice reminded, but it still didn’t sit right with him. He was a lady killer of the first rate but this woman was immune to his charms. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t really turned up the wattage when it came to her. He wasn’t attracted to her sort, anyway. And what sort was she? the voice challenged. Not easy to reel in, he answered darkly. Pressing the ice pack to his face, he allowed a groan since he was alone. He suffered the pain while Aubrey was there but now…shit, that hurt. So Aubrey was a twin, he mused. Interesting. He couldn’t imagine two of her running around. She mentioned they were nothing alike. Did that mean her sister was prone to giggling, flashing bright pearly smiles and flirting? He tried to picture Aubrey being like that and it was too much for his meager imagination, not to mention the headache that had begun to pulse behind his eyeball. He sighed and tossed the ice pack in the sink to melt. It was probably a good thing Aubrey was a little on the uptight side. If pressed, he’d have to admit she wasn’t hard on the eyes. When she wasn’t scowling at him, that was.