Читать книгу Family by Design - Roxann Delaney, Roxann Delaney - Страница 7

“Mom?”

Becca turned from the window where she had been watching Nick climb into Tony’s truck. “Rest time isn’t over yet, Danny.”

He scrunched up his face and shrugged. “But I need to ask you something.”

Taking him by the hand, she led him to the sofa and pulled him onto her lap. “What is it, honey?”

“That…that man that brought you to Raylene’s last night…”

“Nick,” she prompted with a nod.

“Yeah, him. Well, you know, you always told us never to talk to strangers and I know you had to when he stopped to help you with the car, but isn’t that kinda danger…dangerous?”

Becca smiled. He was far too wise for his five years. From the moment his dad had left them, Danny had been her protector. The man of the house. He never stopped looking out for her and his sisters.

“You don’t have to worry,” she told him, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “Nick isn’t a stranger. I knew him a long, long time ago, when I was young.”

Danny tipped his head up and looked at her, his blue eyes serious. “You’re not old, Mom.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up inside her. “Okay. When I was younger. How’s that?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. When he looked at her again, she couldn’t read his expression. “Do you…” He ducked his head.

“Do I what?”

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then looked up at her. “Do you like him?”

Completely taken by surprise, Becca wasn’t sure how to answer. “Like him?” she repeated. “He’s a friend, I guess. Is that what you mean?”

His lips curved up in a mischievous smile. “Sort of.”

“Now, Danny—”

“It’s okay, Mom. I just wanted to make sure he was okay, that’s all. And if he wants to come around, that’s okay, too.”

“Oh, really?” She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Or maybe it was to keep from crying. She wasn’t sure which. There was no reason for Nick to come around again. In fact, she hoped he wouldn’t. He couldn’t do anything to help her, even if he wanted to, and she was pretty sure he didn’t. He really, really didn’t understand her situation. While it was true that he hadn’t had the advantages she’d had growing up, she doubted he had ever lived in fear of losing his home or worrying about how to feed his family. But for her—

The phone rang, and Danny jumped from her lap, shouting, “I’ll get it!” as he ran to the kitchen. Becca hoped it wasn’t Mrs. Watkins calling to hassle her for the rent money again.

Danny poked his head through the doorway. “It’s Grandpa,” he announced with a sour expression.

Becca’s heart stopped momentarily, but revived instantly to beat a heavy thud. Her father rarely called, so it must be important. She took the phone from her son and covered the mouthpiece. “Go check on your sisters for me, will you?”

As soon as he was out of the room, she put the receiver to her ear. “Hello, Daddy. What a surprise to hear from you.”

“Surprise? Why would you be surprised after sending a request for money?”

She bit back the threatening groan. She had completely forgotten, in a moment of madness, that she had written her father and asked for some help with the rent. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that,” he grumbled. “Do you think I have money to throw away?”

Bristling at the inference that a small loan from him would compare to wasting money, she quickly and silently counted to ten. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not losing any sleep, that’s for sure. If you’d been the wife you should’ve been to Jason, you wouldn’t be doing without.”

If only her father had really known the man he had chosen for her, he wouldn’t have the nerve to say the things he said. But there was no sense telling her father that. As always, he was right and she was wrong. “It really doesn’t matter, Daddy. It’s a done deal now. I just found myself a little pinched for money, that’s all.”

She’d found herself a lot pinched for money. The child support Jason was ordered to pay was always late and often not the full amount, when he even bothered to pay it. For the most part, when he did, it kept the four of them fed and a roof over their heads, but little more. She had been looking for work, but she hadn’t found anything just yet.

“So how are things down under?” she asked, changing the subject. Discussion of Jason would always be to his advantage and never to hers.

“It’s hot, and Cecily is waiting for me to join her on the beach. Before I forget, look for some Christmas gifts in the mail for your kids. Ceci picked them out. I don’t have any idea what would suit them.”

You would if you took the time to know them. But she couldn’t come right out and say that to him. No matter how far away he was now, he still had a measure of control over her, so she thanked him instead. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy whatever you’ve sent,” she added.

When the brief conversation ended, Becca leaned against the wall next to the phone and closed her eyes. The house was peacefully silent. She suspected all was well with the girls and Danny had found something to immerse himself in. She tried so hard to keep a happy face in front of her children, but some days were harder than others.

Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the coffee cup Nick had used. The sight of it spurred her into action. She wasn’t going to think about Nick. She wasn’t going to worry about the rent, the bills, or moving. She had things to do. There was laundry to finish and the boxes in her trunk to bring in. These were the things she could control. Daisy and April would be waking up soon, and once that happened, she wouldn’t have time for feeling sorry for herself.

As she started to work, she flipped on the television to catch the noon news, expecting to hear something about the comet she had seen the night before. To her dismay, there was nothing mentioned. By the time the program was over, her family was awake and clamoring for her attention.

After fixing lunch and entertaining them with a game of hide-and-seek, she was exhausted, but her chores weren’t done. Standing in the laundry room, she watched the water inch its way across the old linoleum floor, while the washer did nothing. No agitator gyrating from side to side. No hum of the wash getting clean. Nothing happening but that steady, slow trickle of water.

“Looks like you have a problem.”

She jumped at the sound of the voice and turned, surprised to see Nick.

“Danny let me in,” he explained. “Tony forgot to put the stroller back in the trunk, so I told him I’d drop it off. I left it on the porch.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I was out, anyway,” he said with a shrug. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded paper and handed it to her. “My sister moved this summer and kept the list she’d made of possible rentals. I thought it would save you some time.”

“Thanks.” She scanned the well-compiled list, wondering how she was supposed to come up with a deposit, when she couldn’t even come up with enough for one month’s rent. “Ann-Marie always was an organized person.”

“My sister is a pack rat.”

“Yes, but an organized pack rat. It makes a difference,” she told him with a smile. She knew all of his family well.

He stared at her, their gazes locking until he finally looked away. Becca felt the warmth flow through her body and wished he would go away. She didn’t need him here, bringing lists that were of no use to her and looks that threatened to melt her on the spot.

“Want me to take a look at that?” he asked, indicating the washing machine with a nod.

Becca wasn’t sure she wanted to be beholden to him any more than she already was, but they needed clean clothes. “Do you know anything about washers?”

“Enough to know if they can be fixed or not.”

She couldn’t be sure if he was serious, but once again she wasn’t in a position to refuse him. “I guess that’s better than nothing and a lot more than I know. What can I do to help?”

He was already reaching behind the machine to turn off the water. “There’s a toolbox out in the back of my truck. If you’d get it, I’ll see what I can do here.”

Relieved to escape, Becca grabbed her jacket and scooted out the door. The wind had picked up, blowing dirt and swirling around her legs, chilling her to the bone. Hurrying to his truck, she noticed the company logo on the side and came to a halt.

“Big Sky Construction,” she whispered, staring at the graphic of stars, complete with a comet that looked like the twin of the one she had seen. She hadn’t noticed it the night before. But then she had been in a state of shock at seeing Nick.

In the bed of the pickup truck, she found a red metal toolbox, but when she tried to pick it up, she could barely lift it. Putting all her effort into it, she finally managed to slide it to the edge of the tailgate and dragged it off, nearly smashing her toes in the process. She took a deep breath and squatted the way she had seen weight lifters on TV lift hundreds of pounds, and was finally able to pick it up from the ground. The distance to the house seemed like miles. She carried it with both hands gripping the handle, convinced her arms would be several inches longer. If she ever made it inside, she thought with a grimace of pain.

Getting up the back porch steps was the hardest part, and she kicked at the door, hoping someone would open it for her.

“Stay back,” she puffed in warning, when the door opened to two small, curious faces. Danny and April made a wide berth for her as she struggled with the last few steps into the tiny laundry room. The box landed with a loud thud less than a foot behind Nick. Bent down and looking at the workings of the machine, he jumped back and nearly knocked her over.

“I’m sorry,” she said when he turned to frown at her. “It was a little on the heavy side.”

He looked at the toolbox and then at her, frowning. “No, I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t think about how heavy it is.”

With one hand, she massaged the muscles in her other arm. “And I thought my kids were heavy to carry around,” she said, attempting a weak laugh.

Taking a step forward, he rubbed her arms. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” But she wasn’t, especially when he stopped rubbing but didn’t move his hands from her arms. She took a step to back up, and he jerked away as if he’d been burned. She watched as he opened the toolbox and dug through it, not sure if she should stay or go. “Can I do anything else to help?”

His hand stilled on a wrench. “Another cup of coffee would be nice.”

There was a strange quality to his voice, and he didn’t look at her as he went straight to the back of the machine without a glance. She didn’t know how, but she was pretty certain she had made him mad.

“I’ll fix a fresh pot,” she said, then hurried out of the laundry room.

Glad to escape again, she tried to ignore the fact that Nick was less than ten feet away. She wasn’t successful. The sounds of him moving around were a constant reminder. While he worked, she prayed that the machine would be simple to fix and that Nick would be gone soon. She didn’t seem to be able to do or say anything right when he was around.

NICK LET OUT the breath he was holding when he was sure Becca was safely out of the room. What had he been thinking, sending her out to get his toolbox? Oh, he knew what he’d been thinking. And it wasn’t the kind of thoughts he wanted to be having, and the reason he had sent her on the errand. But even now, with the challenge of fixing the washing machine on his mind, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. He could hear her running water in the kitchen. He could hear her moving, and he could imagine watching her. Becca looked even better than he had remembered. Still on the slender side, her body had rounded and softened. The kind of body men dreamed of holding and touch—

“Ouch!”

“Are you all right?” she called from the kitchen.

“Just great,” he said, trying not to grit his teeth at the pain in his smashed finger. If he didn’t get his mind on what he was doing, he’d be a mangled mess before he could ever get the damned machine working again.

After forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand, he was deep into the internal workings of the washer when he chanced to look up. Becca’s son stood silently watching him. Nick leaned back against the wall, needing a break. Washing machines weren’t his specialty, and it had been a while since he had watched his dad repair the family’s washer.

“Can you fix it?” the boy asked, his expression too solemn for someone his size.

Nick was going more on hope than memory. “I think so. Might take a little time, though.” When the boy continued to study him, Nick shifted his position. “You don’t mind, do you?”

The boy shook his head, but didn’t move from the spot.

Nick gestured for him to move closer. “Ever see the motor of one of these things?”

“No.”

“Pretty simple,” Nick said. Picking up a screwdriver, he kept talking, pointing out some of the parts he could name. As he talked, the boy moved closer, and he could remember himself at the same age. He had thought his father knew everything there was to know about anything. Still did, sometimes, even though he knew it wasn’t true. He had a good relationship with his father and couldn’t imagine what it would have been like not to have had him around when he was a kid.

“Do you like machines?” Nick asked.

“I guess.”

Nick didn’t miss the shrug of his small shoulders. “Yeah, I feel the same way. Now, my brother Tony really likes them. But me? I like wood.”

“Wood?”

Keeping his attention on the work, Nick kept talking. “Yeah, like building things. You know. I like the feel of it in my hands. Sometimes it can be rough, sometimes as smooth as a baby’s bu—Uh, skin. There’s a lot you can do with wood.”

“I made a birdhouse once,” the boy said, hunkering down beside him. “It wasn’t very good, though.”

“Did you like making it?”

He nodded.

“Then that’s what matters. As long as you enjoyed yourself.”

“My dad never made things.”

Nick’s chest tightened at the face so devoid of emotion and wondered why the boy had used the past tense. Hadn’t Becca’s ex-husband been a good dad? Didn’t he spend time with the boy now? Nick couldn’t imagine any man not wanting to spend time with his son. Even though his own dad had spent hours at the garage, there had always been time for his sons. And daughters. But as much as Nick wanted to know more about Becca’s ex-husband and what was happening, it wasn’t his place to ask. Or to judge. “Not everybody likes it.”

“Danny?”

Nick looked up to see Becca standing in the doorway, Daisy on her hip.

“You aren’t bothering Nick, are you?” She looked from one to the other, her worry obvious.

“He’s helping.” Nick got to his feet and turned on the water faucets. “Give it a try, Danny.”

The boy stood on tiptoe to reach the dial and pushed it in. They watched as the tub filled, then the motor kicked in and began agitating.

“It works!” Danny shouted.

Even Nick was somewhat surprised at his handiwork. “Want to give me a hand putting the back panel on?” he asked the boy.

“Can I?”

The joy on Danny’s face was almost too much for Nick. Hadn’t Mr. Stockbroker ever fixed anything? He handed Danny the screwdriver. “Help me line up the holes. When I get the screws slipped in, you screw ’em in tight, okay?”

Danny’s head bobbed up and down.

Nick looked to see how Becca was reacting, but she was gone. He was sorry that she was missing how well Danny was doing. Spending this time with the boy had gotten his mind off the boy’s mother. And Nick was more than grateful for that.

When they had finished the repair job, Danny insisted on helping Nick put the tools away. With one hand on the boy’s shoulder and the other carrying the toolbox, Nick walked into the kitchen with Danny.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Nick said, thinking of the renovations he would soon be doing. Maybe Becca would let him borrow Danny. Then again, maybe not. Not after she learned the truth.

“Would you like to stay for supper?” Becca turned from stirring a pot on the stove. “It isn’t much. Stew, actually, but there’s plenty of it.”

She looked so pretty, with her face flushed from the heat of the stove, that Nick was nearly struck speechless. “Well, uh, it smells good, but I need to get going,” he finally managed to say.

“My mom’s a good cook,” Danny said proudly.

Nick ruffled the boy’s hair, but didn’t take his eyes off Becca. “I’ll bet she is.”

“He’s prejudiced,” she said.

When Danny slipped away, Becca and the aroma of the food she was cooking drew Nick to take the few steps that brought him to stand directly behind her. Peering over her shoulder, he breathed in. “Sure smells good.”

“The invitation is still open,” she said without turning.

But Nick wasn’t thinking only about the food. Becca smelled even better than the stew she was stirring. It wouldn’t take much to imagine what a happy little domestic scene this could be. He could see himself after a hard day’s work, stepping closer and slipping his arms around her. He’d pull her next to him. She’d protest with a laugh, then he’d nuzzle her neck and she’d turn in his arms, that sexy look in her—

“Raylene said you’re staying at your parents’ house while you’re here.”

“Huh?” Nick blinked and the vision vanished. Becca hadn’t moved an inch. What the hell was he thinking? He needed to leave. Get outside and get some fresh air. He took a small step back, then another. “Oh, yeah. My parents. For a while. And I’d better get going before someone starts looking for me.”

After tapping her wooden spoon on the edge of the pot and putting on a lid, Becca turned around. “I’m in your debt again and can only say thank you. That’s not right.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shifted his toolbox to the other hand, shocked by his own crazy imagination. One more reason to stay away from her whenever possible. “If you have any questions about Ann-Marie’s list, give her a call. She said she’d be happy to help.”

Becca nodded.

Nick started for the living room, spied Danny watching TV, and turned back. “Would it be okay if I showed Danny my truck? I think he’d get a kick out of all the tools and stuff in it.”

At the mention of her son, she offered a grateful smile. “Of course. Just make sure he puts his coat on.”

Nick waited while Danny buttoned up in an almost-too-small coat. As the two of them walked down the porch steps, Nick promised himself that this would be it. He had rescued Becca on a lonely country road, had her flat tire fixed, her oil changed and her car checked over for any other problems. He’d given her a list of places to move and repaired her washing machine. He’d even taken a special liking to her son.

But no more.

Tomorrow he’d be at the job site for the new housing development, getting everything set up for Monday’s full day. There wouldn’t be time to help Becca. A good thing, too, because every time he did something for her, the past crept closer, and he forgot about the most important part—she had dumped him, and not in a nice way. He couldn’t forget about that. Not and get his house.