Читать книгу Darcy and the Single Dad - Stacy Connelly, Stacy Connelly - Страница 8

As Nick lifted his hand to ring Darcy’s doorbell, he heard footsteps on the porch behind him. He turned in time to see her rush up the steps toward him. Her dark red hair was caught up in a damp ponytail, and her jacket and jeans were wet. She stopped short, mere inches away, and her feet nearly slipped out from beneath her. Pure reflex had him reaching out to catch her.

And it was reflex that had his hands bracketing her narrow waist, reflex that had him ducking his head to inhale her summery scent, mixed with rain from the storm. Reflex that had him hungering to kiss her, to slide his palms down to her hips, to …

Stay far, far away.

That had been his goal when he’d driven up to her small Craftsman-style cottage at the end of the street. He would be professional and polite—or as polite as he could manage —do his job and get out of there before—before any of this could happen.

Jerking away his hands before he could get burned, he stiffly asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Thanks.” The short, choppy response wasn’t what he expected. It was almost as if Darcy had been just as affected by the unexpected contact as he had been.

Straightening, she stepped back and wiped her face. Her hair and cheeks were wet from the storm, and her efforts left a streak of mascara beneath one eye. He couldn’t imagine why the sight made her seem somehow vulnerable or why it tugged at something inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Sorry. I don’t normally fall over people like this,” she said with a wry enough smile to make Nick wonder if she’d heard the gossip in town. Gossip that said falling all over men was exactly what she normally did.

Shoving aside thoughts of the rumors, he focused on his reasons for being out in the middle of a storm instead of at home with baseball on the TV and a beer in his hand. “My assistant said you have some kind of emergency.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as skeptical to Darcy as it did to him, and figured he must have done a passable job at hiding his doubt when she nodded quickly.

“Yes, and thank you so much—”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Just doing my job.”

“Right. Of course. This way.”

After bending down to grab the well-worn, brown leather bag he’d dropped when Darcy had appeared out of nowhere and stumbled into his arms, Nick followed her around to the back of the house. She must have come from that direction, and yet he was a little surprised. Somehow he’d expected her to lead him inside.

Not that he was looking for an invitation. He was just—He didn’t know what he was right then.

And his confusion only increased when Darcy knelt down before her back porch. The rain had turned the area to mud, and now that he wasn’t so distracted, in the glow coming through the windows he could see reddish-brown mud caked the boots she wore and rimmed the hem of her jeans. She wore a fitted, thigh-length jacket in a rich taupe color, but her choice had little to do with fashion. Whatever was going on, Darcy had been outside in the storm for a while.

“… I can’t coax her out and she’s not eating,” Darcy was saying. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Squatting down on his heels, Nick got his first look at the she in question. A medium-sized dog lay huddled beneath the porch. “How long has she been like this?”

“Since I came home this afternoon.” Darcy crouched down beside him to peer at the dog. The animal had crawled through a hole in the rickety latticework framing the fascia of the porch. A small hole. Small enough that the two of them were nearly cheek to cheek gazing into it.

Focusing on work instead of giving in to the need to study Darcy’s elegant profile, the arch of her forehead, the straight slope of her nose, the tempting curve of her lips, Nick asked, “Has she been out of the yard at all?” An injury might explain the dog’s instinctual need to hide. “Or is there anything she could have gotten into back here? Pesticides? That kind of thing?”

“No, nothing. But—You think it’s something serious then?”

The worry in her voice called to Nick. He turned toward the sound, forgetting how close she was. Close enough for him to be in danger of falling into the endless green of her eyes. Close enough to be a breath away from feeling her pale pink lips against his.…

“I, um—” Nick cleared his throat against the sudden lump of lust lodged there. “I can’t tell from here.”

He’d learned his lesson when it came to making promises he couldn’t keep, but he found himself longing to ease the frown between Darcy’s auburn eyebrows.

It’s going to be okay. Everything will work out for the best. You’ll see.

Those were the vows he’d made to Carol years ago, and he’d failed miserably on all accounts. Nick had never been a man to say he hadn’t made mistakes, but he damned sure didn’t repeat them.

“Do you have a flashlight?” He needed to try to assess any injuries before moving the dog.

It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow his words managed to wring a small smile from Darcy. “Living in this house? I have a flashlight in every room.”

He’d heard about the troubles she’d had with the house—faulty electricity, leaky plumbing—typical complaints with a house built at the start of the last century. But it wasn’t Darcy’s wires or pipes people in town were talking about after she went out with part-time handyman, full-time ladies’ man Travis Parker.

No one was surprised when the relationship ended quickly. Travis Parker was known for chasing after a woman only to cut her loose once she was caught. But it was Darcy who kept the rumor mill churning as she seemed willing to give Travis a run for his money as the local heartbreaker, rebounding by going out with two or three other available guys in Clearville.

Not that it was any of his business. Not any of his business at all.

“I’ll need a blanket, too,” he said abruptly, turning back to the dog and away from Darcy’s smile.

He felt the question in her glance as she slowly rose to her feet, but he refused to look her way. He didn’t care who Darcy Dawson dated, he told himself as she quickly hurried up the back porch stairs. Her footsteps were light and quick on the creaky porch floorboards, and he wondered how she did that. How she could make something as simple as walking seem like a graceful, rhythmic dance.

Reaching out, Nick grabbed the lattice work with both hands and tugged hard enough to break free more of the weathered wood from the rusty nail heads. The masculine show of force did little to lessen the irritation building inside him. The last thing he needed was to wind up on Darcy Dawson’s To Do list. And yeah, okay, the trip wasn’t a total goose chase. Darcy really was worried about the dog.

But she’d also really had problems with her wiring and plumbing. That was how things started. Where they ended—Well, Nick didn’t let himself think about that. He’d probably tear down the whole porch with his bare hands if he spent too much time imagining Darcy in the arms of those other men.

He needed to concentrate on the job at hand, and after he’d done what he could to help the dog, he’d turn his attention back to his plan for the future. Finding the right kind of woman.

A woman who was responsible and down-to-earth. A woman who walked with her feet firmly on the ground. If she was pretty, he’d consider it a bonus, but certainly not a requirement, Nick decided. He’d allowed his hormones to overrule his head before and, except for Maddie, the results had been disastrous. He didn’t need to feel that skip in his heartbeat, that quickening of his pulse, the low throb of desire that hummed beneath the mundane sounds of everyday life.

He knew what he wanted and—

“I’ve got it.”

Darcy’s husky voice broke into his thoughts, and Nick could only stare at her. She stood beneath the porch light, so he could see her more clearly now. Even with her thick hair pulled back into a damp ponytail and her makeup mostly washed away by the rain, she was beautiful. Tall and graceful, she definitely had it. She was—She was everything he did not want in a mother for his child. Everything he didn’t want in a wife.

“The flashlight and blanket?” she said, lifting the objects in her arms, her voice hesitant when his silence went on too long.

“Right,” he said abruptly. “That’s—what I need.”

He reached out for the items, careful not to brush his hands against any part of Darcy. Grateful to escape, even though it meant crawling into a muddy hole, Nick ducked beneath the porch and through the space he’d made larger. He half crawled, half slid across the muddy ground.

“Do you need—”

“Just stay back,” Nick answered when Darcy’s voice followed him into the damp, cramped space. Last thing he needed was for her to try to squeeze in behind him. He’d never been particularly claustrophobic, but the idea of being trapped in such close proximity with the woman had sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I need as much room as I can get in here.”

In the glare from the flashlight, the dog eyed him warily. He could see now that she was some kind of heeler mix with a solid, medium-sized build, alert ears and intelligent gaze. He’d always had a soft spot for working-class dogs, admiring their bravery, their intense watchfulness … their loyalty.

And after only a quick examination, he was relieved to discover the reason the dog had sought out some privacy and shelter. “Come on, girl. Let’s find you a more comfortable spot.”

He’d asked for the blanket in case she snapped at him or started to squirm when he moved her. Judging from her quiet, crouched demeanor, she was clearly afraid, but Nick didn’t sense that fear turning into aggression. He kept the blanket away from her head as he wrapped her up and scooted his way back from under the porch.

“What do you think? Is she okay? Are you going to take her to your clinic?” Darcy’s rapid-fire questions were filled with anxiety, and the dog seemed to shake in time with each word.

Keeping his voice monotonous and low, Nick wasn’t sure which female he was trying to calm. “She’s going to be fine. All she needs is a clean, dry place to let nature take its course.”

“Nature?” Darcy blinked up at him as he rose to his feet, and Nick regretted his choice of words. A little too much nature was already coursing through his body for him to be saying anything even slightly suggestive.

“She’s pregnant,” he said.

“Pregnant?” Darcy echoed as she followed him up the back porch steps. “I didn’t—How—”

“That’s what happens when owners don’t have their dogs fixed.”

“I know that’s how. But, see the thing is—She’s really not my dog.”

A high-pitched squeal interrupted, and they both looked down at the squeaky rubber toy Nick had stepped on. From there, Darcy followed his gaze to the bed she’d set up in the corner of the porch, along with the food and water bowls with their paw-print design, and an array of colorful balls and rawhide bones.

“Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard on my trip to the grocery store, but really, she’s not—”

“Not your dog,” Nick echoed. “Right.”

He’d heard the excuse from owners before. Unwilling to deal with the problems their lack of responsibility caused, they dropped off pregnant dogs and newborn kittens at shelters as “strays.”

He tried to help out where he could, working with a shelter in the next town over and volunteering his time with a mobile spay and neuter program. But he’d long ago acknowledged and reluctantly accepted that there were people whose minds he could not change.

Or at least he thought he had. Maybe it was the day he’d had, seeing the horse left to starve by the people entrusted with its care, but he was hit by a wave of disappointment that Darcy was—

What? Not who he thought she was? Not the kind of woman he wanted her to be?

Nick shook off the ridiculous idea. He didn’t know Darcy and he didn’t want to get to know her. She was a city girl who’d quickly tire of playing small-town dress-up and move on when she realized she didn’t belong. But for Nick, Clearville was in his blood.

“There’s a shelter the next town over.” Even in the dim light from the back porch, Nick could see Darcy flinch. A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience for making her feel bad, but he ignored it. He was simply explaining the reality of the situation. “They might have a foster available to take the dog and her pups until they’re old enough to be adopted.”

Darcy shook her head even as she caught herself raising her left arm over her chest, reaching for the reminders of the old injury. She stayed the motion when she saw Nick watching her closely. “No. I won’t take her to a shelter.” Crossing her arms instead, she said, “I—I’ll keep her.”

The vet arched an eyebrow, his doubt as obvious in the faint lighting as his disbelief had been moments earlier. She could have tried harder to convince him the dog wasn’t hers, she supposed. But words could be meaningless, empty things. If he hadn’t believed her the first time, why would he the second or third? Darcy refused to argue her innocence with someone who’d predetermined her guilt.

He’d judged her and found her lacking. Well, so what? She had nothing to prove to him. She had nothing to prove to anyone but herself.

Nick Pirelli could believe what he wanted. She didn’t care. Or at least she wouldn’t … as soon as she convinced herself that was true.

“You really think you can handle this?”

With the dog cradled in his arms, Nick never raised his voice above that low murmur she’d heard coming from beneath the porch. A sound that, at that time, had washed over her and soothed away her worry. It hadn’t even mattered that he’d been talking to the dog. That mellow, hypnotic baritone would have had her willingly climbing into his arms.

Now, with the same tone of voice doing little to disguise his doubt, Darcy’s cheeks started to heat. Her instant attraction to the dark-haired vet was as unexpected as it was embarrassing considering his own less-than-flattering opinion of her. But she had bigger things to worry about at the moment. Or rather several little things.…

“I’ll have to handle it, won’t I? Wait … Where are you going?” she asked when Nick awkwardly reached with one hand for the screen door while still carrying the dog wrapped in the blanket.

For a split second, she thought she saw something soften in Nick’s expression, but then his gaze dropped to the dog in his arms. When he looked up again, his dark look was remote. “She needs to be someplace dry and warm and quiet. Someplace inside.”

Inside? She was going to have—Her mind blanked at the sheer number of potential dogs inside her house.

“Where do you want me to put her?”

For a brief moment, Darcy panicked. She wouldn’t take the dog to a shelter, but Nick was a vet. Surely he could find someplace else. But then she looked at the poor dog who seemed to be quietly waiting for her decision, and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t turn her back now.

“There’s a laundry room right off the kitchen.” Other than housing her washer and dryer and storing products for her boutique until she was ready to open, the laundry room was empty. Darcy led the way through the country-style kitchen and into the other space.

Hurriedly, she tried to scoop up the bras and panties she’d left folded on top of the dryer. Heat flooded her face, though she didn’t know why. Nick Pirelli wasn’t the least bit interested in her or her underwear. After stuffing the pieces of lace and satin back into the dirty clothes hamper, she pushed some boxes out of the way.

“I’ll go—” Her words cut off as she tried scooting around Nick to head back to the patio for the dog’s blanket and bowls. The laundry room that had seemed plenty spacious before was suddenly too crowded for her to take a single step without bumping into the exasperated vet. And wouldn’t you know that the frown on his face didn’t take away one iota from his good looks? If anything, the brooding intensity only added to his appeal, making Darcy suddenly understand women who fell for the dark, dangerous hero.

She’d never been the type. Aaron had been an all-American golden boy—blond hair, blue eyes, with an aspiring politician’s practiced smile. So different from Nick.

Darcy cut off the pointless comparisons. When Nick inadvertently countered her slide to the right with his own move to the left, she finally grabbed him by the shoulders. Ignoring the sudden flutter in her belly when her hands encountered warm male muscles through the damp softness of his flannel shirt, she led them both in a pirouette that would have done a dance teacher proud.

“I’ll be right back with the other blanket and her water bowl. Is there—Should I do anything else?” Darcy asked as she backed out of the room.

Nick knelt down to place the dog on the floor and glanced at her over his broad shoulder. “What? Like boil water?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Only if you feel like having some tea.”

He turned back to the dog before Darcy had a chance to see his expression. Had Nick Pirelli just told a joke? Darcy almost hoped he hadn’t. Grumpy and grouchy, he was hard enough to resist. Throw in a sense of humor, and she might be in some real trouble.

Half an hour later, Nick stepped out of the laundry room and joined Darcy in the kitchen. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she held out a steaming mug.

“Chamomile?” she offered, the challenging spark in her green eyes catching his attention and refusing to let go.

For all the talk he’d heard about Darcy Dawson, how was it no one had mentioned her quick wit or her sense of humor? The dangerous combination already had him lowering his guard and regretting his earlier behavior.

“How’s she doing?” Darcy asked with a glance over his shoulder at the narrow doorway.

“She’ll be fine.” In fact, now was a good time for him to go. Even though the dog was young and likely a firsttime mama, nature would tell her what to do. But he hadn’t missed Darcy’s reaction when he had first told her the dog was having puppies. Her face had gone white, and she’d looked ready to faint. What if Darcy actually did pass out and the dog needed help? Sticking around and making sure the delivery went smoothly was part of his job.

Joining Darcy in the small, intimate kitchen for tea was not part of his job, but even as the warning was drifting through his mind, Nick stepped closer and accepted the cup. His jeans were weighted down by mud, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, and his shirt was soaked through, thanks to the rain. It might have been the end of July, but the sudden storm had dropped the temperature, and he took a minute to warm his hands around the mug. “Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you. I’m sure you had better things to do than make a house call on a night like tonight.”

Nick shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

“So what’s it like?” Darcy had stripped off her jacket at some point, revealing a pale green knit sweater that hugged the curves of her breasts, but still wore the dark, wide-legged jeans. Her feet were bare, cherry-red toenails peeking out from beneath the mud-splattered hem. He tried not to notice how small and delicate they were, just as he tried not to notice how his own scuffed and scarred size-eleven work boots had tracked mud across the white tile floors.

Darcy leaned back against the butcher block counter, her hands cradling her own mug. Her gaze was open and interested, easily sucking him in until he could barely remember what she’d even asked. “What’s what like?”

“Being a small-town vet?”

Small town. Two simple words that had his hackles standing on end. Yeah, that was what Carol had accused him of being more times than he could count, and the insult had hurt. But Carol had been his wife. He’d felt frustrated and at a loss to keep her happy, and he’d failed her as a husband with his lack of ambition to move to a big city where he could make more money.

Darcy, though, was a stranger, a woman he’d just met. What difference did it make how small town she thought he was?

“I love it,” he answered, a hint of defensiveness undercutting his words. “Ever since I was a kid, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

“Really?”

Nick’s lips twisted. “You sound surprised.” Like she couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t want something more.

“Not surprised. I guess, I’d say … envious.”

“Envious?”

Darcy shrugged. “That you’ve always known without a doubt what you wanted to do.”

He’d always known what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t questioned what was best for his family. After Carol left, he’d gone to see her in San Francisco, willing to give up everything—his house, his practice, his hometown—to keep their family together. Only to discover his everything still wasn’t enough for her.

“Yeah, I’m just lucky that way.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d given away with that comment, but Darcy’s expression softened and she searched his face as if looking for some way inside him. That was not a place he wanted her, so he quickly asked, “What about you?”

He racked his memory for what he’d heard about her reasons for moving to Clearville. He was pretty sure he’d heard his sister, Sophia, talking about the woman renting the space two doors down from The Hope Chest. “You’re opening a shop in town, right?”

As she went on to explain her boutique, a place where she would offer women advice on makeup, skin care and beauty treatments as well as sell the products along with candles and soaps in every scent imaginable, some of his skepticism must have shown on his face. “Why do I get the feeling,” she asked, “that you’re not going to be my first customer?”

Nick shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just—Well, I’ve seen this all before.”

Darcy set her mug on the counter with a dull thud. “Someone else has a shop like mine?”

“Not a shop just like it, but that spot you rented? It’s gone through more changes in the past few years than I can remember. A dress shop, a shoe store, a health food clinic. Nothing stays open for long.”

“So, you’re telling me that the shop I’ve rented has some kind of Clearville Curse attached to it?” Darcy wiggled her fingers in a spooky motion, her teasing smile enough to jerk a rough half laugh out of Nick. But then a rush of heat surged through him when he remembered those same fingers pressed into his shoulders, and he quickly sobered.

“Not a curse, and it’s not just Clearville, either. I’m sure it happens in small towns all over the place. Big-city folks get tired of the traffic and noise and fast pace of the city, so they go off seeking peace and quiet in some small town. Only before they’ve had the chance to even unpack, they start to miss all those same things they left behind. Before you know, they’re gone without a word.”

Darcy wasn’t unaware of the chance she’d taken, and a string of failed stores could give a location a bad rap. Plus, starting a new business was always a risk, especially in this economy. But for as long as she could recall, her mother had talked about moving back to her hometown, only to never have the chance.

Darcy refused to miss her opportunity by waiting for the perfect moment. Instead she was going to make the most of the time she had now. Not that she was counting on blind faith to see her through. She’d done her research. Clearville was a small town, but one with a healthy tourist trade, catering to travelers who came to enjoy the surrounding redwoods, the rugged coastline, the days-gone-by feel of the Victorian Main Street.

The town had its share of bed-and-breakfasts, and Darcy had already arranged for a few of those businesses to carry her beauty baskets in their gift shops. She hoped to start up a buzz about The Beauty Mark before her grand opening.

“Maybe those other shops closed for a reason,” she suggested.

“Such as?”

“So that the space would be available for me.”

Nick stared at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was for real, and Darcy doubted she’d be able to explain her certainty in the move she’d made. Because even though she’d struggled with turn-of-the-last-century plumbing, ghostly electricity and a car that had turned into a lemon at the stroke of midnight, she refused to allow any of it to shake her faith that she was right where she was supposed to be.

Darcy’s only regret was that her mother wasn’t there with her, but she felt her presence in every decision she made. From their long-ago conversations as they’d imagined the perfect look and feel of the shop to the recent, far-more-practical hand Alanna had given her only child—the life insurance policy that made the dream a reality.

“I would think,” she told Nick, “if anyone would understand, you might.”

Nick’s dark brows arched toward his hairline. Clearly he thought he’d be the last person to understand anything about her. “Me?”

“Yes, you said being a vet, being Clearville’s vet, is the only thing you’ve ever wanted to be. It was the same thing for me the first time I drove down Main Street. I knew this was where I was supposed to be. It might have taken me a little longer to get here, but it’s really the same. We’re really the same.”

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Nick wryly countered, “We’re really not. I was born here. I grew up here. This is all I’ve ever known.”

“And I didn’t just stumble across Clearville by accident. I may not be from here, but my family was,” she said, feeling a little gratified by the surprise on his face. “My mother lived here until she and my grandparents moved when she was a teenager. She always dreamed about coming back and opening this boutique.”

“Your mother always dreamed about it?”

“She did.” Darcy didn’t see the knowing look in his eyes until it was too late. “I mean, we did. It was our dream. It just turns out that I’m the one who’s going to make it come true.”

Seeing the unasked question in his gaze, she explained, “She was in a car accident a little over a year ago. Her injuries left her paralyzed. She was making progress, and I really thought if anyone had the strength to recover, she did. But then she suffered from a blood clot, and the doctor said there was nothing they could do.”

“I’m sorry, Darcy.”

Already figuring out Nick was a man of few words, she wasn’t surprised when his condolences ended there. But she was touched when he took the mug she barely realized she was still holding and poured her a second cup of tea from the pot warming on the stove.

She soaked in the comfort of the small, thoughtful gesture and the heat from the steaming mug he handed back to her, but she wanted more. Nick stood close enough for the rain and earth clinging to his clothes to blend with the floral fragrance of the tea. But beneath that was the faint scent of his aftershave and warm male, and she longed to step closer and breathe it in.… To breathe him in.…

He stepped back suddenly, leaving her holding nothing but the cup of tea.

It was only her vulnerability after talking about her mother that made his withdrawal feel like a rejection. It wasn’t like he knew what she’d been thinking.

Please don’t let him know what I was thinking.…

“So your mother wanted to move back,” Nick was saying as Darcy refocused on the words instead of simply following the movement of his lips.

She sighed, unsure why he was so hung up on that point. “This isn’t only about my mother’s last wish. It’s about a new start for me. A chance for me to own the kind of store where I like to shop.” She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by Nick’s lack of interest. He wasn’t exactly the demographic she had in mind for her boutique. “You know your sister’s looking forward to my grand opening. I think Sophia’s almost as excited as I am. And your daughter will love it. Girls always have a blast playing dress-up and having little girl makeovers—”

Warming to her subject, it took Darcy a minute to realize however slightly Nick had relaxed in the last few seconds, that moment was now gone. His expression was closed off, his posture once again rigid. He cut her off saying, “I should go check on the dog.”

“I thought you said she was fine.”

“She is.”

Staring at the straight, unbending line of Nick’s backbone as he walked away, Darcy couldn’t help wondering, if the dog was okay, then what on earth was wrong with Nick Pirelli?