Читать книгу Lone Star Dad - Linda Goodnight - Страница 11
ОглавлениеTwo weeks passed, but Quinn knew he hadn’t seen the last of the troublesome neighbors. There was daily evidence that Derrick had snuck into the well house to see the kittens. He figured Gena didn’t know. Otherwise, why the secrecy?
This morning an opened but uneaten can of tuna was stashed in one dark corner of the shed. He’d smelled it the minute he’d opened the door.
Now at work inside the offices of Buchanon Construction, Quinn frowned at the sets of blueprints on his desk. His office was in the back of the warehouse, a quieter space than the front desks ruled by two of his sisters. Here he could work in peace and hang out with the coffeemaker. And wonder about his unexpected neighbors.
He refused to worry that the mother cat hadn’t been in the shed this morning. Or last night, for that matter. She came and went as she pleased. They weren’t his cats. He didn’t like cats.
But he wasn’t an ogre, either, contrary to popular opinion. He’d put a heating pad under the babies, turned to low like the internet said, to keep them warm. While he cleaned out the box and set up the heating pad, he’d put each kitten inside his zippered jacket, next to his warm skin. They were soft as down, and now that their eyes were squinted open, they were kind of cute.
“We missed you yesterday.” His brother Brady, the company’s manager and his closest sibling in age, propped a hip on the edge of his desk. As youths they’d been constant companions but after the accident that destroyed his throwing arm, Brady continued to play college football while Quinn was left behind to deal with surgeries and rehab and pain. Their lives had gone in separate directions, certainly not the direction he’d intended, and only in the last year had they intersected again. Brady didn’t know all he’d gone through in Dallas. Quinn didn’t want anybody to know.
He pretended to study the diagrams. “I was busy.”
“Yeah? Doing what?”
“Stuff.”
Brady barked a laugh. “You missed a good basketball game. The Mavericks beat the Thunder in OT.”
Yes, and his mother probably made chili or pot roast and the siblings stocked the kitchen with chips, dips and other snacks. Sunday afternoons were a tradition at the Buchanon house. Everyone came to watch a game. It didn’t matter what kind of game. Football was the favorite, but they watched basketball, baseball, anything that gave them an excuse to gather after church and yell at the TV—all in fun, of course. He missed those times with his family, but they didn’t understand how hard it was for him to be there.
He’d fallen off the proverbial wagon last night. Not as completely as he had in the past but enough to shame him.
He did all right at work. Rigidly, every day, he brought exactly two pain pills to the office. The prescribed amount. Two and only two to get him through the day.
Nights were murder. Last night the pain had won.
He rubbed his shoulder and swallowed the thick, nasty taste of failure. “Maybe next week.”
“That’s what you’ve said every week since last Christmas. We miss you, brother.” Brady’s voice softened. “I miss you.”
A lump rose in Quinn’s throat. “Yeah, well...” What could he say? He loved Brady. Loved his family. But he was lousy company, unfit to be part of the wholesome Buchanon clan until he defeated the monster living inside him.
“Want to talk about it?”
Startled, he glanced up. “About what?”
No way Brady could know the truth. Quinn had been too careful.
“Whatever it is that’s keeping you away.”
The air hummed with expectation. Brady wanted an answer. Quinn wasn’t giving him one.
Finding a smirk, he said, “You’re too busy romancing Abby to miss me.”
Brady got a besotted grin on his face. “I can’t wait to marry that woman. She’s something special.”
Quinn softened. His brother was happy. Regardless of the problems plaguing Buchanon Construction and a fire that had destroyed his Christmas home-makeover project, Brady had fallen in love with the recipient. Waitress Abby Webster and her little girl had filled the lonely spot in Brady and become as much a part of the family as if they’d always been there. “I’m happy for you, Brady.”
“You should think about finding a good woman for yourself.”
A pair of angry green eyes flashed through his head. Irritated, he said, “Don’t want one.”
“Who are you kidding? You love women. And they love you.”
“That was a long time ago. I’m not that guy anymore.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Brady said quietly. “Mom said you had a run-in with the new nurse practitioner. What happened?”
“Long story. She’s got this kid. Pain in the neck. I caught the little twerp hunting on my property. And there’s this cat.”
“You have a cat?”
He scowled. “No, I don’t have a cat. I don’t like cats. But a pregnant mama had kittens in my well house a couple of weeks ago. What was I supposed to do? Toss them in the river?”
“What does this have to do with Gena Satterfield?”
“Nothing.” He ran an irritated hand through his hair. “Like I said, she’s got this kid. He’s infatuated with the kittens.”
“Didn’t you date her sister? Renae, wasn’t it?”
Quinn huffed. “Yeah.”
“I wonder where she is now.”
“A rhetorical question, I hope. I certainly don’t know.” But he’d wondered plenty of times.
Bothered, he crossed to the coffeemaker. One of the twins, Sawyer probably, had arrived early and filled the Bunn maker to capacity. Buchanons imbibed massive amounts of coffee.
Talk of Gena or Derrick or, heaven forbid, Renae, set his nerves on edge.
“Her kid’s named Derrick.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. Maybe because he’d been thinking about the Satterfields too much. Gena had a son but there was no man in her life. He’d figured that much out. He’d asked around. Carefully. Subtly. A man needed to know who his neighbors were, especially when they trespassed with regularity.
And yeah, he was curious about her and the guy she’d loved enough to have a son with. A jerk, apparently. Maybe his absence was the reason Derrick was so angry.
“Whose kid?” Brady asked. “Renae’s?”
“No, meathead, Gena’s.” He poured two cups and handed one to Brady.
“You didn’t date her, too, did you?”
Quinn barked a rusty laugh. “No.”
“I had an appointment with Dr. Ramos last week, routine stuff, and ran into Gena in the hallway.” Brady lifted an eyebrow. “Nice. Pretty, too.”
Yeah, he’d noticed. Maybe not the nice part but the pretty for certain.
He pretended to study the steam rising from his mug. “Want me to tell Abby about your sudden interest in the new nurse practitioner?”
“I’m talking about you, dunce cap.” Brady shook his head in dismay. “From what I hear, she’s still single, and obviously she’s smart and successful. Plus, she lives close enough for the two of you to get acquainted.”
Quinn offered a scowl. “I don’t like people in my space.”
“Suit yourself, bro.” Brady lifted a hand in dismissal.
“She doesn’t like me.”
Brady dropped his hand and frowned. “No vibes?”
“None.” At least not from her direction. His vibes had done a few calisthenics. Maybe a couple of wind sprints.
“The old Buchanon charm didn’t work?”
His charm had been in his right arm. Women didn’t care about the real Quinn. They cared about the prestige of being seen with the nation’s top college quarterback, destined for the big time and lots of money, not about a damaged man who struggled to get through every day and night without falling down the rabbit hole. Even now, his arm ached and he wished for the bottle of painkillers waiting on the counter at the cabin.
“Are you going to work today or harass me about my single status?”
“Both.” Brady plunked the half-empty mug on the long counter that ran behind Quinn’s desk. “I need some minor tweaks to the Robinson house.”
“Figures. Let me pull those up.” He rotated his computer screen and typed in the project name. “The mama was gone this morning.”
“Our mama? Where did she go? I thought she was helping Charity fluff the resale house on Hannah Street.”
Quinn poked his brother’s arm with the side of his fist. “Not our mama. The mama cat. She wasn’t there last night, either.”
“Kittens still there?”
“She didn’t move them, if that’s what you’re thinking. She’s gone. The kittens aren’t.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Brady pinched his upper lip. “You’ve got coyotes out your way. What are you going to do if she doesn’t return?”
Quinn squeezed his aching biceps. If it wasn’t one problem, it was another.
“I have no idea.”
* * *
When he arrived home that evening, the sun was low in the west and shadowy tree fingers gripped the shed. He hoped the mother cat had returned. He’d even stopped at the IGA and picked up a few cans of cat food for her. Not that he wanted her sticking around once the kittens were old enough to travel, but she needed her strength to see them to adolescence.
He dumped the bag of groceries on the counter along with a foil-wrapped casserole his mother had brought to the office. He glanced at the bottle of painkillers sitting harmlessly next to the sugar bowl. He picked them up and read the warning label for the thousandth time.
“‘May be habit-forming.’” He spat a cheerless laugh. “No kidding.”
The crawly craving started up. Just one more. Just one extra pill and his arm would stop aching and he wouldn’t have to think so much about all he’d lost. His mind would slide away into that peaceful place where nothing hurt, not even his soul, and...
He slammed the plastic container onto the counter and, heart pounding, jogged out into the cold, across the yard and to the shed.
Derrick was already there. He held a baby kitten in each hand.
Quinn’s heart sunk lower than the setting sun. The mama was nowhere in sight. Four babies writhed and cried as if they hadn’t eaten all day.
“Something’s wrong with them,” Derrick said, his usually sullen face creased in worry.
“The mama wasn’t here this morning.”
“I know.”
Quinn shot him a quick look. “Last night, either.”
“I didn’t think she’d run off like that.”
“Something must have happened to her. She wouldn’t leave them on purpose. She’s a good mama. Like yours.”
Derrick’s expression turned belligerent. “What would you know about it?”
“Not a thing.” He didn’t know why he wanted to butt into the shaky relationship between Derrick and Gena. They were not his problem. These cats were. Sort of.
Quinn hunkered down beside the box and lifted one of the kittens, a solid white puffball. Her mouth opened in a display of pointed teeth, pink gums and desperation. She wailed, loud and strong.
Awkwardly, he stroked her head and back. “Shh. Don’t cry, little one. Shh.”
“You really think the mama’s gone for good?” Derrick looked as sad as if they were orphaned humans instead of stray cats.
“Whether she is or not, the fact remains, these kittens won’t survive without her much longer.”
“You got a computer?”
“Why?”
Derrick slumped and shook his head in disgust. “Dude. Haven’t you ever heard of research? Somebody knows what to do. Google it.”
The kid was likely right, but company in his cabin was not Quinn’s favorite thing.
He carefully replaced the crying kitten, sympathy tugging at him. They were pitiful little creatures. He weighed their struggle against his own and gave in. “My laptop’s on the table inside.”
Derrick didn’t hesitate. With a gentle hand that belied his don’t-care attitude, he settled the kittens onto the warm pad, murmured reassurances and rose. “Let’s go. They’re starving.”
“Maybe Gena would know what to do.”
As he shuffled to the doorway, Derrick glanced to one side, eyes avoiding Quinn’s. “I doubt it.”
“She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”
The kid looked up and scoffed. “Are you kidding me? She’d ground me for years.”
“I must have made a great impression on her.” He’d been less than friendly, which he figured was justifiable. They’d trespassed. Not him. But Gena’s attitude rankled him. He didn’t want people hanging around, but he wasn’t Jack the Ripper, either.
“She gets all twitchy and weird when I mention your name.” The kid shoved his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. “Did you, like, know each other back in the old days or something?”
The old days. Right.
Quinn led the way out of the shed and took care to secure the rickety latch. Darkness blanketed the yard except for the pale light from a white moon. The kid shouldn’t be here this late. Home was a long walk in the cold and dark. “We both attended Gabriel’s Crossing High School but didn’t run in the same circles.”
“Yeah, you were Mr. Big Shot. She was nobody.”
Quinn cut the kid a sharp look. “Did Gena tell you that?”
“She didn’t have to. Your picture is plastered in the trophy cases and on all kinds of plaques. Hers isn’t.”
A hot pain slid up Quinn’s elbow and into his shoulder. “Still?”
“Yeah. Kind of weird.”
It sure was.
Quinn fell silent. Old memories made for long nights. Forget the past. Move on.
Inside the house, he turned his attention to the kittens. “Laptop’s there. Have at it.”
The boy lifted the lid and said in a reverent tone, “Touch screen. Sweet.”
“I’m an architect. High tech comes in handy.”
Derrick’s fingers raced over the keyboard. “You do graphics and stuff?”
“Yeah. Stuff. Lots and lots of stuff.”
“Plenty of sites about orphaned kittens.” The boy clicked on one of them.
Quinn leaned over his shoulder to watch. In minutes, they’d learned the rudiments of caring for the kittens. “Looks like we’ll need milk replacer from the vet. Too late for that tonight.”
“We can try this homemade stuff.” Derrick pointed at the screen and rattled off the list of ingredients.
“I have the eggs but not the condensed milk.”
“We could go to the store.” Derrick’s voice was hopeful, though his expression said he expected Quinn to turn him down.
“You need to go home.” His mom would be getting worried by now.
“And let the kittens die?” Derrick slammed out of the chair in a fury, fists tight at his side. “Creep. If you won’t take me to town, I’ll walk.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Calm down there, tiger. Call home for permission first. I don’t want her on my case.”
Derrick didn’t ease off. “That makes two of us.”
Quinn tried to remember where he’d left his cell. “Phone’s in the truck. Be right back.”
As he stepped outside, Gena’s SUV broke through his protective line of trees. She jerked to a stop next to his pickup and stormed out, slamming the door with vehemence.
“Is Derrick over here?”
No use getting testy with him. He hadn’t invited the little twerp. “In the house.”
She shot him a hard glance and marched to the front door. She waited there in her jaunty knitted cap with her arms crossed over a blue coat as if unsure whether to barge into his cabin or wait for his permission. Feeling obstinate, he didn’t give it. Instead he took his sweet time finding his cell phone, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye.
She was steamed, whether at him or Derrick or both, he couldn’t say and didn’t care. They were trouble. Pains in the neck. He didn’t need them or their intrusion on his peace and quiet.
He forced a leisurely stroll across his own front yard. The air seeped through his shirtsleeves, but he refused to rush. She made him want to get under her skin. “You know anything about feeding orphaned kittens?”
She uncrossed her arms, pursed pink lips easing open. “Did something happen to the mother?”
“Appears so.” He reached the porch and pushed open the door, motioning her inside. She crossed in front of him and he was surprised that she smelled nice, not like the antiseptic medical scent he’d expected. Something subtle, spicy and warm wrapped around his senses.
She was average height, reaching him about chin high. And beneath her coat she wore turquoise scrubs, a good color with her green eyes.
He gave an inner laugh. Stupid thought process. What did he care about the color of her eyes? He just wanted her and her little twerp out of his house.
Gena strode directly to Derrick. “You could have left a note.”
“You knew where to look.”
Derrick shrugged her off and turned back to the laptop. Gena shifted on her Crocs, uncertain. She wasn’t assertive enough with the kid. She let him get away with too much.
The room pulsed with silence, not that Quinn minded. He liked quiet. The woman and boy weren’t his concern.
He moved to the fireplace, crouching to add a log. Behind him Gena said something to Derrick about the kittens and they discussed the milk replacer.
He heard her say, “They’ll need to be fed at least every six hours.”
“I can do it. I’ll come before school and right after. I’ll even come in the middle of the night.”
Quinn pivoted around, quiet and watching.
Gena was shaking her blond head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Derrick, come on, be sensible. You have school and I have work.”
“It would only be for a little while.” His expression went from sullen to impassioned. “I can’t let them starve to death!”
She seemed to contemplate the determined, disobedient kid along with the problems inherent with feeding animals orphaned this young.
“I suppose we could take them home with us. That’s a better solution anyway. Then you won’t be over here bothering Quinn.”
“Can we?”
Quinn pushed up and away from the fireplace. “No.”
Both woman and boy turned to stare at him. “Why not?”
He hitched a shoulder, feeling obstinate. What right did she have to come into his house and dictate what became of the animals in his shed? “My cats.”
“You said they were strays.”
“They were until they took up residence in my shed.” What was he doing? Let her take them. Be rid of them. Be rid of her and her sulky kid. Get back to normal. Alone. The way he liked. “They stay.”
“Are you going to feed them?”
“We’ll work out a schedule.”
“I don’t want Derrick over here.”
“Why not?” That was what was bugging him most. Now that he’d offered the invitation, he didn’t appreciate her attitude. As if he was some kind of evil influence on children. He was the one making the sacrifice by letting Derrick invade his private sanctuary.
She parked a hand on one hip. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? First you threaten to call the sheriff if he steps foot on your land, and now you’re asking me to let him come here several times a day.”
She was really cute when she got fired up. Like a bunny rabbit on a rampage. He wanted to laugh. For the first time in a long time, he was sparring with a woman who attracted him. He even wanted to make her like him. But he was rusty in the charm department.
He knew he should give in and let her take the kittens. The last thing he needed was to have a troubled boy hanging around for two or three weeks. If the kid followed through. Which he probably wouldn’t.
“The responsibility would be good for him.”
“Come on, Gena,” Derrick wheedled. “It’ll only be for a week or two.”
Gena? Why would her kid call her by her first name? Disrespect?
The little twerp needed his head thumped.
She put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and massaged. “Honey, I know you’re worried about the kittens, but—”
Derrick yanked away, his face closed and his breath coming fast and short. “But what? You’re not going to let me do it because you don’t like Quinn?”
Quinn raised both eyebrows and pinned her with a stare. Her cheeks reddened.
“There are some things you have to trust me on. This is one of them.” She shot Quinn a snarky look. “The cats belong to Quinn. He can take care of them. Now get in the car and let’s go home.”
Derrick’s face darkened. His mouth was tight, his eyes laser hot. “I don’t have to do what you say. You’re not my mother. Stop trying to be.”
Gena’s face went whiter than wall plaster. Her pale green eyes flashed toward Quinn. “Derrick!”
Shocked, confused and feeling stupid, Quinn looked from woman to boy and back to the woman.
She wasn’t his mother? Then who was?
