Читать книгу Mckinley's Miracle - Mary Kate Holder - Страница 10

Clayton McKinley was about to order his second beer when the door to the Roadhouse opened and she walked in. He hadn’t seen her around before, but in Cable Creek, Australia, there were no strangers, just people you hadn’t met. She made her way slowly through the crowd. She was dressed to blend in. Tennis shoes. Blue jeans. Grey sweatshirt. Hair pulled into a ponytail. But the shoes were worn and old. The jeans were faded and snug, drawing his attention to her slim hips and shapely curves. The sweatshirt skimmed high, rounded breasts, the sleeves pushed almost to her elbows. The clip holding her chestnut hair in place was plain gold. She stopped suddenly, her hands drawn into fists at her sides. Seconds later she moved with lightning speed toward the bar. He watched, every muscle in his body tense and alert, a second beer forgotten as she squared her shoulders and walked right up to the meanest man in town.

“Gerry Anderson?”

Around them everything stopped, a testament to the anger in her voice and the unabashed curiosity of the Saturday-night patrons. Someone pulled the plug on the jukebox. Conversations fell to whispers and then ceased altogether. Every eye in the place was on the slender five-foot-three woman and the burly six-foot man she faced. Gerry turned around, dismissing her with a smirk. Clayton counted that as his first mistake.

“You got the name right, sweetie. What can I do for you?”

She stepped closer to her colossal opponent not even sparing a glance for the two men flanking him. “This is about what I will do to you the next time you bully one of my children.”

Gerry laughed. “Your kids? I heard they were strays nobody else wanted.” He shook his head. “You should go back where you came from. We don’t want your kind here.”

She pinned him with a look that could have laid ice on the Simpson Desert in the middle of summer. “They are under my care, Mr. Anderson. That makes them my children. Max is just thirteen years old and thanks to you he spent the last two hours in the emergency ward.”

For the first time since she’d spoken his name, Gerry looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You deliberately drove your car onto the shoulder of the road, kicking up the loose gravel. It frightened the boy’s horse so badly he was thrown.”

Her words sparked a simmering anger in Clayton. Gerry had a mile-wide mean streak, but picking on a child was a low act. He thought of his niece, at home safe in her bed. If it had been Molly on that horse Gerry would be the one in the emergency room.

Gerry smiled. “You got no proof it was me.”

“I don’t know of anyone else in this town with the license plate STUD or the arrogance that goes along with it.”

He turned back toward the bar. Clayton counted that as his second mistake. “Damn kid’s lyin’ through his teeth. I wasn’t even there.”

“You’re a coward.”

Her words dropped into the silence with the impact of an unexploded bomb. Gerry turned back to her, pure venom in his eyes. Clayton pushed slowly to his feet.

“Don’t start nothin’ you can’t finish, missy.”

“My name is Lucy Warner, not missy.”

Clayton did a double take. This was his new neighbour? His first thought was that she looked at least ten years younger than the twenty-five he knew her to be. His second thought was that he wanted to get to know her…a lot better.

“And calling that boy a liar makes you a coward. If I’d been there you would have been going to the hospital on life support.”

Someone chuckled. Another brave soul clapped. Most however seemed content to watch the showdown with undisguised interest. Gerry glanced at his mates and laughed, but Clayton watched his fist close in rage. Raising a hand to her would be Gerry’s last mistake of the night. Clayton would make damn sure of it.

“Some kid can’t handle himself on a horse and you blame me? Just go back to the city where you belong and take those delinquents with you.”

Lucy seemed unimpressed. “Why? Because if I don’t you’ll bully me too?”

Gerry shrugged. “All kinds of things can happen to a woman out here.”

“You might think you’re a tough guy in this town, Mr. Anderson, and maybe picking on children is what it takes to make you feel like a man,” she taunted, raising herself to her full height, squaring her shoulders, her chin high. “But the next time you see one of my children minding their own business you’d better do the same.”

When she turned, the crowd parted like the Red Sea before her. Someone whistled encouragement as she walked to the door. On the threshold she looked back and glared at him. “This is the only warning you get, Mr. Anderson. Leave us alone.”

Lucy had been this angry at least once in her life before tonight. Right now she couldn’t remember it though. Blind fury had pushed her into the pub. Pure adrenaline had fueled her words and dignity had enabled her to walk out.

She didn’t remember getting in her car or turning onto the road, leaving the brightly lit hotel car park behind. Now in the darkness, her adrenaline level dropped and Lucy began to tremble. Never in her life had she raised a hand to anyone, man or woman, but Gerry had tempted her. The smug look on his face. The arrogance in his eyes. The crack he’d made about the children being strays. Physically she would have been out of her depth with him. Words had been her only weapon.

According to Gray Harrison, most people here were good, honest folk. They believed in hard work and simple living and had community spirit, that small-town sense of rallying together to help each other in times of crisis. She deferred to Gray’s judgement on that. He’d grown up here after all.

The first time Lucy had set eyes on the farmhouse she had known this was where the dream was meant to take shape. At times it still seemed impossible to her that the journey she had started for Megan had brought her this far. It had started out as a promise, the only way Lucy could think to make up to her sister all she had denied Megan in one moment of recklessness.

Being a foster mother and having a degree in social welfare had given her credibility to get the project off the ground. Gray’s friendship and the sponsorship of his corporation had sealed it for her. Now it was a reality. A place for troubled teens to find a life away from the streets. Streets that sucked their young lives away. Her own years of experience dealing with troubled street kids had shown her a side to life no child should ever know. The idea for the farm had been her sister’s long-cherished dream and now it was within reach. Lucy wasn’t about to let Gerry Anderson or anyone like him stand in her way.

Though she was only recognized as foster mother to Katie and Max, the powers that be had allowed her guardianship of the two older kids also. To the bureaucrats this was an experiment and Lucy had to succeed so more kids could be given the chance to come here.

She was so lost in thought that when the car began to jerk, her hands tightened on the steering wheel. When it began to sputter, Lucy pulled off the road, and before she could turn off the engine the car died. She reached across into the glove box and found the small torch she’d tucked in there for emergencies. Alone on a dark, lonely stretch of highway, Lucy looked at the fuel gauge and uttered a curse into the night.

Clayton left the roadhouse twenty minutes after Lucy and had driven barely a mile when he spotted the vehicle off to the shoulder of the road, its hazard lights blinking in the darkness. He dimmed his lights and slowed, pulling in behind. Before he turned off his engine, the driver’s door opened and the occupant rushed up to his car. Lucy Warner stood there in the cold wind of an August night. Clayton opened his door and got out. “You really shouldn’t approach a strange vehicle on a lonely road.”

Lucy didn’t hear censure in his voice, just old-fashioned concern. In the glare of his headlights she could make out his strong build. The hat he wore, an Aussie akubra, shadowed his face and her curiosity slipped up a notch.

“It was either stop someone or spend the night here,” she said. “I prefer a bed to the back seat of a car. When you pulled up, I figured I’d take my chances.”

Clayton pushed his hat back just slightly. He preferred a bed to the back seat as well but he didn’t think they knew each other well enough for that discussion. “And if I were someone planning to do you harm?”

Lucy stiffened her backbone and lifted her chin. The thought hadn’t occurred to her…but it did now. Gerry hadn’t been alone at the pub. What if this man was one of his cronies?

“Then the self-defence classes I took a few years back would be put to the test.” He was a big man, broad across the shoulders and at least six feet tall. All the defensive positions in the world would not have saved her if he’d intended to do her harm. She thought she heard him chuckle as he walked to her car.

“What seems to be the problem, Miss Warner?”

Fear slid its icy fingers down her spine. “How do you know my name?”

“You kind of introduced yourself back at the Roadhouse. I’m Clayton McKinley, your neighbour at Cable Downs.”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Any relation to the local vet?”

“He’s my big brother,” he replied, pride accompanying the words. “One of them anyway.”

Lucy had met Joshua McKinley a week after her arrival. He’d seemed a reserved man with kind eyes. Instinct told her reserved was not a word that would apply to his younger brother.

“Thanks for stopping.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Lucy didn’t imagine the slight coaxing tone his baritone voice had taken on with those three words. This man’s pleasures weren’t something she wanted to poke her nose into. “You don’t happen to be a friend of Gerry Anderson do you?”

“I’d rather have no friends if Gerry was the alternative. Loudmouthed bullies with more brawn than brain deserve everything they eventually get.”

“Then there must be a huge fall somewhere in his future.”

“I’d bet on it.” He looked toward the vehicle. “So what’s wrong with your car?”

“Everything, according to the mechanic who serviced it last,” she said, glancing at the car. “He said if it were a horse he’d have it shot. For now I’m merely out of petrol and wondering if it can get any colder.”

“Oh sure it can,” he said easily. “There’s nothing like an Australian winter to test your mettle. Get in my truck and put the heater on. You’ll be warm in no time.”

The offer was tempting…far too tempting. “That won’t be necessary. If you have a mobile phone I can call the garage and get Rick to bring some fuel out.”

Clayton smiled to himself. He couldn’t really blame her for being so careful. He’d just warned her about strangers after all. Still, her reply sounded more prickly than cautious. He’d known prickly women before—hell, he’d known all kinds of women before. Every day since he’d hit puberty women had fascinated him. The fact that he would never understand any woman if he lived to be a hundred only intrigued him more.

“Sorry, no mobile phone.”

Lucy couldn’t hide her surprise. “Everyone and his dog has a mobile telephone these days.”

Clayton grinned and stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “Well, my dog and I do just fine without one,” he told her. “And where’s yours?”

“At home,” she said, wishing she’d never even asked him about the damn phone. Walking to the garage would have been less frustrating. Usually she didn’t go anywhere without the mobile, but she hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly when she’d stormed out of the house an hour ago. She’d kept her calm while at the emergency room, but once Max was home safe she’d needed to blow off steam.

“I’ve got a can of fuel in the back of the truck. I’ll put it in your car and follow you to the truck stop. That saves you getting a ride back out here.”

Lucy liked doing things for herself. But she wanted to get home to Max, and Clayton was offering a solution to her problem.

“Thanks. I’ll pay you for the fuel when we get to the station and I get change.”

“Forget it.”

“I don’t like accepting charity.”

“Lady, it’s a couple of dollars’ worth of fuel. Out here that isn’t charity. It’s simply being neighbourly.”

“I still intend to pay you.”

Clayton shrugged. “You can try.”

Lucy hugged herself against the chill and glanced up to see him shrugging out of the coat he wore. He held the garment out to her. “Put this on.” She made no move to take it. “Either put it on or get in the truck.”

“And when you freeze to a solid block of ice, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Clayton liked her irritation. He might have to take the long way around to get past her defences but he had a keen sense of direction. “I don’t think I’m in any danger, but if it happens you take me back to your place, thaw me out and be gentle about it. What we do after that is up to you, since I’ll be at your mercy.”

She scowled. “This is serious. Think hypothermia. Frostbite. Pneumonia!”

“If I promise not to die, will you put the coat on?” She hesitated. “Listen, you’ve got kids waiting at home. The sooner you put this on, the sooner I can fuel up your car and we can get moving.”

Lucy couldn’t decide what she hated more—the fact that he’d made a very valid point or the confident tone of his voice. She took the coat from him. Nothing she said would make an ounce of difference and she did want to get home. She shrugged into the lambswool coat, its fleecy lining warm from his body heat. It hung to her knees, but right now keeping warm took precedence over style.

Clayton walked to the back of his vehicle. Retrieving the fuel can and a plastic funnel, he came back around to where she stood. In the beam of his headlights he bent down to the task at hand.

“The boy Gerry hurt, will he be all right?”

The question didn’t surprise Lucy. The genuine concern that accompanied it did. “He’ll be stiff and sore for a few days.”

“Joshua said you’ve got four kids living out here with you.”

“Well, Thomas doesn’t like to be called a kid but yes.”

Clayton let the fuel can drain to the last drop then put the lid on it and capped the petrol tank. He closed the latch and pushed to his feet. “Don’t let Gerry get to you.”

Lucy buried her hands in the pockets of his coat. “We’ve done nothing to him.”

“Your problem is that he made a bid on the house you’re living in. He wasn’t overjoyed when Gray decided to rent it out.”

“That place was meant for a family. Gerry hardly strikes me as the home-and-hearth type. What woman would have him?”

“None around here, but your place has some of the best grazing land and it borders Anderson Farms at the southernmost boundary where the creek runs through it.”

“No wonder he wants me gone.”

“There is an upside to this.”

“And that would be?”

“We’re not all like Gerry. His kind are a very small minority around here.”

“You know him pretty well I take it?”

“He’s lived here all his life. He likes to drink, pick fights and big note himself, not always in that order. He even did it at school.”

“Well, he’ll find himself in the hospital if he doesn’t heed my warning and leave us alone.”

Clayton understood her protective nature. “Just watch your back. I doubt Gerry’s ever had a woman stand up to him…and in public.”

Lucy had known men like him before who bullied those weaker than themselves. “Thanks for the warning.”

“See if the car starts.” He stashed the funnel and empty can back in his truck, and by the time he reached her door the engine was idling. “You take off. I’ll be right behind you.”

Clayton walked back to his vehicle before she could offer the protest he anticipated and waited for her to pull onto the road before he started his truck and followed. He’d been busy on the farm this past month and hadn’t found time to socialize, but he recalled Josh saying he’d had a call out to the Harrison farm. His brother had forgotten to mention just how pretty the new tenant was. And she had courage…either that or she’d let her anger get the better of her a while ago and hadn’t stopped to think about what she was doing. He thought of how protective he and his brothers were of Molly. If Gerry had considered Lucy as an easy target, one he could intimidate into leaving, he’d just gotten a wake-up call.

When word had spread around town that Alma Harrison’s rambling, two-story house had been snapped up, the fear of big development was rife. Lucy Warner arrived a few weeks ago and replaced that fear of change with a fear of the unknown. In less than a day it seemed everyone far and wide knew of her plans to make it a home for kids who needed a new start, children who had nowhere else to go.

Clayton and his brothers had backed the idea from the beginning, and though a portion of the townsfolk had initially shied away from what they didn’t understand, most people now took the view of live and let live. Except for Gerry.

When Lucy indicated, Clayton slowed his vehicle and followed her into the well-lit service station.

Lucy pulled up beside the petrol pump and cut the engine. She got out and handed the keys to the attendant with a polite “Fill her up.” Walking back to where Clayton had parked, she stopped several feet from his truck. He walked toward her.

She’d known he would be as good-looking as his brother. Now beneath fluorescent lights the full impact of Clayton McKinley hit her head-on. He stood two inches over six feet and had a confident, loose-hipped stride. He walked with an easy grace, as though time would wait for him. Lucy had no doubt if he smiled and asked nicely enough it would. Blue jeans clung to him like a second skin and dusty brown boots crunched with defiance over the gravel as he came toward her. His hair was dark blond and cut short on his neck. His eyes were peacock blue and sparkled with a wicked hint of mischief. Clayton McKinley was the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. The kind fathers had nightmares about. She would always look back on this as one of them. She almost felt like a schoolgirl again. Her palms were suddenly sweaty. Breathing was something she had to think about doing and for the first time in a long time, long dormant emotions began to awaken inside her.

Dragging her eyes away from him she began to shrug out of his jacket, loath to give up the warmth.

“Don’t even think about it, lady.”

Lucy glared at him as the command rolled seductively off his tongue. “I don’t respond well to orders.”

“No kidding,” he teased, his lips sliding into an easy smile. Not a generic smile. Oh, no! This was a knee-weakening, heart-melting, pulse-pounding smile. This man was dangerous in ways there were no defences for.

“Don’t even think of handing the coat back just yet. And arguing with me won’t do you any good.”

She looked cute swallowed up by his jacket. A small-boned woman, she stirred his protective instincts, and her subtle hourglass shape banished from his mind every stick-thin woman he’d ever dated. Her skin was pale and unblemished, her cheekbones high, her face softly rounded. Her lips were full and naturally pink and had him wondering if they were as sweet as they looked. With her hair pulled into a ponytail she looked about sixteen and more tempting than sin. From the moment she’d turned away in the bar, he’d wondered what colour her eyes were. Now he had his answer. The colour reminded him of fine malt whiskey. They were wide and expressive, guarding a keen intelligence.

Lucy pulled the coat back over her shoulders and tried to ignore the intensity of his watchful gaze. It felt as though he was committing her to memory pore by pore. She refused to be intimidated by his blatant appraisal and motioned to the shop that formed part of the service station.

“I’ve got to get a few things.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Lucy looked up at him. “You think I’m going to get lost between produce and dairy?”

“I’m having fun.” His smile was powerful. His eyes roamed over her from head to toe then made the return journey with lazy intent. Prickles of sensation skittered through her body, skating over nerve endings.

“If grocery shopping is your idea of fun then you must lead a boring life.” She said nothing when he fell into step beside her, hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“How did you know Gerry would be at the Roadhouse?”

Lucy entered the shop and picked up a plastic carry basket. She took a loaf of bread from the shelf. “I didn’t. Max said the bloke had a bunch of prissy cowboys—his words not mine—in the car with him. The Roadhouse is the place to be on a Saturday night. I took a chance.”

“Prissy cowboys?” he repeated, amused. “Now, if you’d laid that one on Gerry he would have died of embarrassment.”

She took down a box of chocolate pops, putting them into the basket. “Harrison House is going to be a success.”

“That’s what you’re calling it?”

She nodded and continued down the aisle. “We took a vote. The kids decided since Mrs. Harrison’s son donated it specifically to be used for the Second Chance project, the name was appropriate. The developers were offering a king’s ransom but he didn’t want it torn down.”

“Gray Harrison did that for you?”

She met his look with a forthright one of her own. “Yes, he did. He figured the kids needed something to work for…a goal. Getting the farm up and running again will give them incentive. Gray has been our guardian angel.”

Clayton found it hard to picture Gray Harrison with wings and a halo. Cable Creek had never been big enough for him. He had outgrown the town long before he’d had the means to leave. Now a major player in Australian financial circles, he had a reputation as a ruthless businessman who guarded his private life fiercely. But none of that mattered to Clayton. All he could think about was what put that soft smile on her face when she spoke the other man’s name.

Lucy filled the basket with orange juice, peanut butter and milk before heading for the checkout. When the cashier was finished packing the groceries, Clayton picked up the plastic bag and waited by the door while Lucy paid for both food and fuel. The attendant met them on the way out.

“All done,” he said, handing her keys back. Lucy thanked him. Clayton walked her to the car, handing her the bag after she got in behind the wheel. She took it from him with a murmured “thanks” and placed it on the passenger seat. He knelt at her door, his face level with hers.

“Oh, your coat.”

“Forget it. I’m following you home.”

Lucy glared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

He grinned. “It’s on my way and I’d like to know you get there safely.”

Did he think she was going to be abducted by aliens between here and there? Lucy bit back the retort. “You don’t intend to take money for the fuel, do you, Mr. McKinley?”

“Not for doing the neighbourly thing. And nobody calls me ‘mister.’ Clayton’s fine. But if you really don’t want to be in my debt, I’ll settle for a cup of coffee.”

“I doubt there’s anyplace open this time of night, and I noticed the machine in the shop was out of order. Would you take a rain check.”

“I’m guessing you own a coffeepot.”

“You want coffee…at my house?” She did owe him something for helping her out. He could easily have kept going, leaving her stranded. Lucy wished he would be mercenary and just take her money. “It’s well after midnight.”

“I’ll drink it fast.”

“The kids are sleeping.”

He shrugged. “I’ll be extra quiet.”

Subtle wasn’t going to work with this man. “I might want to go to bed.”

Clayton smiled. “Well, I’m usually not that easy on a first date but I could be persuaded.”

Lucy blushed, annoyed as much at herself as him. She’d walked right into that one. “I meant I might want to go to bed…alone…to sleep,” she said firmly. “And this isn’t a date.”

He looked as if he’d made a major new discovery. “So that’s the other thing people do in bed.”

Lucy steeled herself as he smiled again. If he would stop doing that maybe she could concentrate on the conversation and keep herself out of trouble. If she kept this up, she’d be in more hot water than she had ever known.

“One cup, McKinley.”

McKinley. Not Clayton. Just McKinley. Polite yet formal. Something that allowed her to keep her distance. Clayton smiled. It would do for now.

“I accept, and remember, I’ll be right behind you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered to herself. She watched in the rearview mirror, studying his compact backside with female appreciation as he walked away. One cup of coffee, she told herself. Then he would leave, if she had to push his gorgeous body and that come-get-me grin out the door.