Читать книгу Red Wolf's Return - Mary Forbes J. - Страница 8

Ethan looked over his shoulder when Lila growled. The dog rose to her feet from where she’d been lying in a block of sunlight streaming through the studio’s screen door.

“Easy, girl.” He set down the photos he’d been examining on the drafting table. “That’s probably our guest.” Through the window he saw Beau’s pickup pull up to the house.

So. The kid obeyed his mother. Before driving away last night, Meggie had been adamant Beau be accountable for his actions.

Hell, yes, Ethan could use an extra pair of hands, but having her son around for a week meant she would be checking up on the boy, which meant discussions and more of those long-eyed looks. That the kid was the conduit bringing her here felt like a fish bone in the throat.

Speaking softly to Lila, “Be nice,” he stepped onto the stoop and into the sunshine.

“Is he gonna bite?” Beau called, hesitating inside the open door of his truck as the dog trotted toward him.

“Not unless you give her reason to.”

“Terrific. She probably hates me after last night.”

Ethan remained where he was. “Did you pop shots at my dog along with Miles Ralston?”

A scowl. “No-o.”

“Then you got nothing to worry about.” He gave the dog a few seconds to sniff the kid’s sneakers and hands before commanding her to return. Ethan headed for the shed and his tools. Over his shoulder he said, “If you got gloves, bring ’em.”

“Just so you know I think this is stupid.” The truck door slammed.

Ethan didn’t look back. If the kid left, that would be that. He would call Meggie, tell her to dream up another consequence plan. Without him.

“I told my mom this is slave labor.”

Ethan grunted. Kid was sticking.

Inside the shed he strapped on his tool belt, collected a hammer and a sack of nails, shoved them into a box. Beau appeared in the doorway, blocking the sun for a moment before he stepped over the threshold.

“Cool,” he said, wandering to the Merrimack canoe resting upside down on a pair of wooden sawhorses. “We gonna fix this?”

“Nope.” Ethan set the box into the boy’s hands. “We’re working on the pier. These are your tools. Take care of them because they’re the only extras I have. You lose them, you buy new ones.”

Beau smirked. “You mean my mom’ll buy them.”

Ethan went out the door. “No. I mean you’ll buy them.”

“Well,” the kid’s tone was smug, “since I don’t have a job, guess you’ll be out of luck. No tools, no work.”

Ethan stopped, lifted his cap, scraped back his damp hair. “I own a half-dozen shovels, Beau. Trust me, you won’t be out of jobs to do.” Lila at his heels, he continued toward the dock.

“My dad isn’t going to like this, you know.”

“See those nails popping up?” Ethan pointed to several rusted nail heads standing a half inch out of the wood. “Pull them out and toss them in the box. Hammer a new one in place. If the board’s split or there’s soft rot, pull it up and we’ll replace it.”

Beau dropped the box at his feet. The tools clinked. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard.” Ethan knelt and yanked on a nail. “Your dad won’t like this.”

“Do you know who he is?”

He did. Doug Sutcliffe was a plastic surgeon in Sacramento. Ethan had heard the news of Meggie’s marriage—and divorce—from his former employer and friend, Ash McKee, Meggie’s brother. “Who he is doesn’t matter, Beau. What matters is that people conduct themselves in a good and decent manner.”

“You saying my dad isn’t good and decent?” A thread of disquiet under the belligerence.

“I’m sure he is.” But when was the last time he saw you?

Beau crouched at the far end of the dock, yanked nails left and right. “You got something on your mind, spit it out.”

“If I had a son smart as you, I wouldn’t be living in California.” Ethan nodded at the hammer the boy held. “Make sure you replace the old nails. Don’t just pull them.”

The kid squatted. Bang went the hammer. “You don’t know anything about my dad.” Bang-bang-bang.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Every time I go to California, he pays my flight down. We do things together.” The bravado was back. The same bravado from last night when the boy mouthed off in front of his friends. “He’s got this pool and a membership to this club where you can play tennis all day. His wife’s really nice and so are my little half sisters. They treat me like part of the family, and we go to the beach and have lunch in restaurants with patios looking out over the ocean. Sharon, that’s his wife’s name, she has a gardener to look after their yard and a housekeeper. Her and the kids never have to do chores. It’s cool.”