Читать книгу His Secret Son - Stacy Connelly, Stacy Connelly - Страница 9

Chapter Three

For that split second, Lindsay nearly blurted out the truth she had kept secret for so long. The promised relief from the weight that had settled in her chest from the time Robbie was a toddler and started calling her own father “Dada” was almost overwhelming. But this couldn’t be about her. She had to think about her son...and about Ryder and the kind of father he might make.

She had no idea how Ryder would react to the news. He could turn his back on Robbie the same way he’d turned his back on her. Or—and wasn’t this her greater fear?—he could try to take Robbie away. He had nine years’ worth of visitation rights. Lump that altogether and he could steal the boy she loved more than her own life away from her for a long, long time. Not that joint custody worked that way, but the words joint custody filled her with a fear no amount of truth telling could free her from.

No, she had to get to know Ryder much better than she did now—much better than she’d even known him in high school—before she would tell him about Robbie.

So she said, “Robbie, this is Ryder Kincaid.”

“Hey, bud,” Ryder said, sticking his hand out. He had his fist closed and Robbie somewhat cautiously reached out to bump knuckles. His arm skinny, pale and still little-boy smooth; Ryder’s well-muscled, tanned and covered with a light sprinkling of masculine hair. His tone more relaxed than Lindsay would have expected, he added, “Your mom and I used to be friends back in school.”

“Really?” Robbie glanced sidelong from behind his glasses at Lindsay as if waiting for her to verify a truth he couldn’t quite believe.

Yeah, well, she’d always known her son was smart. Smarter than her teenage self, who’d actually believed she and Ryder had something more than friendship.

Still, she faked a smile and agreed, “That’s right. We started hanging out while I was tutoring Ryder in math.”

It was a bit of a low blow. Robbie had never needed any kind of help in school—not from her and certainly not from another student. Pointing out that Ryder had was more than a little immature.

But Ryder merely grinned. “That’s right. Your mom was the smartest girl I knew.”

Not smart enough to keep from being totally fooled by him. But Lindsay swallowed her anger the same way she had a decade ago—by focusing on Robbie. “Why don’t you finish setting the table?” she suggested with a nod at the stack of plates Ryder had already placed on the table.

“Set it for four, sweetie,” her grandmother called out from her place at the stove, proving she’d been listening in all along. “Mr. Kincaid is joining us for breakfast.”

Ryder grinned at Robbie. “Call me Ryder. Mr. Kincaid is my dad.”

The boy muttered something beneath his breath that might have been Ryder’s name, but Lindsay could barely hear over the words echoing through her head.

“Mr. Kincaid is my dad.”

But with Robbie gathering silverware from the kitchen drawer and her grandmother flipping the bacon popping in the skillet, Lindsay took the opportunity to ask, “What are you doing here, Ryder?”

“Like your gran said. She called looking for a quote to fix up the house. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

He lifted his eyebrows in challenge, bringing back the memories of the dares she hadn’t had the will to resist. Yes, she’d tutored him in calculus, and yes, Ryder had gone on to pass the class. But more often than not, he’d convince her to slip away from the library and sneak off to the square or the rocky, secluded beach not far from town.

It hadn’t been much of a risk, really, as they’d never done anything more than sit on a shady park bench or walk on the beach and talk. So perfectly harmless if she didn’t count falling headlong in love with him.

And while Lindsay wanted to believe she’d outgrown such foolishness, this was one challenge she couldn’t refuse. She didn’t dare admit she had a problem with Ryder taking a look at the house—not without giving him cause to wonder why. And hadn’t she been looking for a way to get to know him? A better opportunity wasn’t likely to fall in her lap, and yet—

I don’t want him here. Not so close to Robbie. Not where their every move would be under her grandmother’s watchful eye...

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to get a quote,” she said finally. “But I’m going to need references.”

“Of course,” he agreed with mock seriousness. “You wouldn’t be the girl I remember if you didn’t do your homework first.”

“The girl you remember,” she muttered beneath her breath with a sarcastic scoff. “Right.”

She turned to head back to the kitchen, but Ryder caught her arm. Lindsay nearly gasped at the unexpected contact even though it was nothing more than a split second before he let go. Had he sensed her reaction? Or make that overreaction? She didn’t dare look him in the face. Good Lord, could this morning get any more humiliating?

“I’m sorry about yesterday. Seriously, Lindsay, when I first saw you...I didn’t recognize you. You looked so different.”

Because she’d changed, she reminded herself. And not only on the outside. She was a new person. A stronger, smarter, more confident person. So she forced herself to meet his gaze.

Sincerity filled his expression as he said, “I didn’t realize it was you.” A faint smile curved his lips. “Seeing you today, I’d have recognized you in a heartbeat.”

And then that mossy gaze traveled from her sleep-tousled hair caught back in its mousy ponytail, her thick glasses and makeup-free face, down her cutesy and by no means sexy pajamas, all the way down to her feet. Heat rose over her skin every inch of the way.

Embarrassment. Pure and simple embarrassment.

“Gotta tell you, I’m digging the doggie slippers.”

Lindsay glanced down, and two pairs of googly eyes stared back up at her. The beagle slippers Robbie had given her for her birthday as a not so subtle reminder of the dog he wanted.

I really need to wake up before this nightmare gets any worse.

Muttering an excuse about helping her grandmother, Lindsay ducked away. When no convenient hole opened up to swallow her, she joined her grandmother at the stove and reached for the plate of hash browns. “You could have warned me you’d invited someone over this morning.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. But really, I thought you’d be happy. Isn’t this what you and your parents have wanted?”

Lindsay exhaled as she reminded herself that this wasn’t only about her. Her grandmother had made a tough decision about selling the house, and if getting the repairs over and done with made things easier on Ellie, then Lindsay could certainly give her gran a break. “You’re right, of course. And I am glad. It’s for the best, you’ll see.”

“Oh, I have no doubt. Just think, once the repairs are made and everything’s back in shape, I’ll have no reason not to stay right where I am.”

With a satisfied smile, Ellie grabbed the platter loaded down with pancakes, crispy bacon and scrambled eggs and turned toward the eat-in nook. “Now, who’s hungry?”

Robbie and Ryder both called out, but Lindsay’s own appetite disappeared as her stomach dropped. Stay in the house? So much for convincing her grandmother to sell. Instead she’d given Ellie reason to dig in her heels even further.

Looking over at the table in time to see Ryder cajole a laugh out of her typically shy son over spearing the same piece of bacon with their forks, Lindsay swallowed her own, slightly hysterical laughter as she tried to figure out how everything had slipped so far from her control.

* * *

In San Francisco, client breakfasts were held in towering high-rises with multimillion-dollar views overlooking the bay. Often those meetings were catered by some of the best restaurants around, but Ryder could honestly say the food couldn’t compare with the simple, home-cooked dishes Lindsay’s grandmother prepared. The bacon was exactly how he liked it—crisp but not too crisp—and the pancakes so light and fluffy and flavorful he’d waved aside Ellie’s offer of maple syrup.

If this was a typical breakfast in the Brookes’ household, well, he’d be tempted to stop by every morning.

And not just for the food...

Ryder wanted to ignore the sly voice that sounded far too much like his big brother’s, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding toward Lindsay, seated diagonally across the table from him.

Her appearance was a far cry from the sophisticated woman he’d seen the day before. Her pajamas were sleep-rumpled, her tousled hair caught up in a crooked ponytail, her face free of even a hint of makeup. Ryder had no doubt she was more than a little embarrassed, but all he could think was how fresh-faced and natural she looked. How real...

And after life with Brittany, the masks she wore and the games she played, nothing was more appealing than a woman with nothing to hide.

He had to swallow a smile every time Lindsay self-consciously adjusted the glasses she hadn’t worn the day before. She’d clearly switched to contacts and was uncomfortable in the thick tortoiseshell frames that seemed too big for her delicate features. But the more she messed with the glasses, the more he noticed them, and the more he had to fight that smile.

Ryder still wasn’t sure what it was that had drawn him to her when they were teenagers. To say they didn’t run in the same circles was an understatement. He’d spent his days in the limelight, surrounded by kids in the cool crowd, while Lindsay blended into the shadows. It wasn’t that the other kids disliked her. More that no one really got the chance to know her. He couldn’t count how many times he’d smiled or said hi to her in the halls, but she’d duck her head and all but run away.

Just as she had earlier that morning.

But this Lindsay, the grown-up Lindsay—despite the throwback glasses, cartoon pajamas and fuzzy dog slippers—was stronger than the girl he remembered. She could have disappeared into one of the bedrooms upstairs.

Instead she’d taken her place at the table, but her nerves still showed in her rigid posture. Her gaze kept cutting over to her son every few seconds, though Ryder wasn’t sure what she expected the boy to do. The kid—Robbie, wasn’t it?—was far more reserved than his nephews, who’d talk anyone’s ear off. Maybe it was being an only child. During his own childhood with his older brother and younger sister, there was always someone to talk to, talk over or argue with. Meals were always a noisy, rambunctious affair, a far cry from the polite conversation at the Brookes’ breakfast table.

“Use your napkin, Robbie,” Lindsay instructed as the boy lowered his glass to reveal a milk mustache.

Miss Manners, Ryder thought, oddly pleased that aspect of Lindsay’s personality hadn’t changed. Her automatic corrections and know-it-all attitude had led some kids to believe she was something of a snob, but he’d always gotten a kick out of how smart she was.

Which made him wonder...

“So, what kind of work do you do, Lindsay?”

“I work for a PR firm in Phoenix.”

“Really?”

He couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice, and judging by the way her chin rose, Lindsay heard it. “Yes, really. I’ve been there for five years now.”

Ryder had always known Lindsay would succeed at whatever she chose to do even after he heard she’d gotten pregnant. But he’d always figured the shy, studious girl he’d known would grow up to be a librarian or a computer whiz or an accountant, where she’d be somewhat behind the scenes, using her brain to problem-solve.

Not that PR work didn’t require serious problem-solving skills. He’d seen on a professional level how his in-laws’ used their PR team to divert and deflect any negative publicity away from the firm and also on a personal level as Brittany put so much spin on their divorce that the truth had become an indecipherable blur.

Not that he cared. At least, not all that much. He’d rather be the jerk who walked out on his marriage than the schmuck whose wife had been lying to him for years.

“My mom’s been on TV and everything.”

Robbie offered up that information, pulling Ryder from the past and bringing his focus back to what really surprised him about Lindsay’s career choice. “On TV and everything,” he echoed. She certainly had looked television-ready the day before, and that was while picking up pizza at a fast-food joint.

The old Lindsay would have blushed at his teasing, but the new Lindsay met his grin with a wry smile of her own. “Local news and a cable television talk show,” she said, dismissing it as no big deal, though her son was obviously impressed.

So was Ryder, since as far as he knew, Lindsay’s only less than stellar grade in high school came after she bailed in the middle of an oral history presentation. She’d stuttered, words tripping one over the other, until she simply froze, horrified, her face pale as her mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, no air going in, drowning in humiliation—

Another memory stabbed at him. Lindsay standing beside his locker, waiting for him on the Monday morning following that fateful weekend. Standing beside his locker and looking even more horrified, more humiliated, more hurt.

Suddenly, despite the delicious food still on his plate, Ryder couldn’t swallow another bite.

He’d felt bad about it, but hell, maybe he was the one who should have gone into the spit-and-polish world of PR. Hadn’t he glossed over what he’d done, justifying his actions with the best of them, until he’d convinced himself his own BS was the God’s honest truth?

He was protecting her by keeping what happened a secret...

It would only make matters worse if the truth came out...

Lindsay might not understand, but he was doing what was best for everyone...

He’d believed every line he told himself, because at the time, he hadn’t known what it felt like to suffer that kind of betrayal, that kind of manipulation.

He knew now.

Thanks to Brittany, to the secret she’d revealed during their final fight—“I did it for us!”—he knew the shock and pain of having the world pulled out from beneath his feet.

Maybe it was ten years too late, and maybe Lindsay no longer gave a damn, but he owed her an apology. And if fixing up the house meant Lindsay and her folks didn’t have to worry about Ellie stumbling on the uneven front steps or losing her balance when leaning too hard on rickety railing—two of the problems he’d noticed on the way inside—well, that was the least he could do.

But there was something Lindsay needed to know, something her grandmother evidently hadn’t told her...

“Can—may I be excused?” Robbie asked. At his mother’s nod, he added, “And go play video games on your tablet?”

“Sure.” Lindsay exhaled the word on a sigh, her shoulders relaxing a bit for the first time since Ryder had stepped foot inside the kitchen.

“Really?” The boy popped up from his chair as though he thought she might change her mind any second. “Cool!”

“Clear off your dishes first, and thank your Grandma Ellie for breakfast.”

“Thanks, Gran,” the boy parroted before he grabbed his plate and glass, carried them to the sink and ducked out of the kitchen, his feet pounding the stairs as he raced upstairs.

“Kid sure likes his video games, huh?” Ryder asked, remembering how the boy had cried out in excitement before nearly running him down in his haste to get to the games at the pizza parlor.

Lindsay’s gaze cut from the kitchen doorway her son had disappeared through to lock on to his. “The kid’s name is Robbie.”

“Right. Sure. Robbie. He seems like a great kid,” he said, cringing a little even as he said the word, half expecting Lindsay to go all mama bear again even though he didn’t have a clue why she’d gotten so defensive in the first place.

“He is. He’s smart and sweet and funny and—” Her words broke off as she turned her focus back to her plate and the food she’d barely touched.

Ellie made a sympathetic sound as she explained, “Robbie’s a bit on the shy side, and Lindsay worries people won’t see him for the amazing boy he is.”

“I’m not worried,” Lindsay argued.

“Of course you are, dear. You’re a mother. It’s your job to worry. But I have the feeling this trip is going to do him a world of good. You’ll see.” Before Lindsay’s puzzled frown had time to set in, Ellie waved a hand at the spread still in front of them. “So, are either of you up for seconds?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Brookes. But that’s gotta be the best meal I’ve had in ages.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. And please call me Ellie.”

He rose as Lindsay’s grandmother did and reached for his own plate. “Let me give you a hand with the rest of these.”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart!”

If he thought he’d gain any points with his offer, he’d have been bound for disappointment as Lindsay rolled her eyes at Ellie’s effusive comment.

Waving aside his attempt to help her clean up, Ellie said, “I can handle things in here if you two would like to get started.”

“The two of us...” Lindsay echoed.

“You’re the one always going on about the work that needs to be done around here. Who better to show Ryder around?”

“Right.” Lindsay sighed. “Because this was all my big idea.”

With Ellie once again waving them out of the kitchen, Lindsay led the way back into the living room. Her messy ponytail bobbed in time with her steps, and Ryder couldn’t keep his gaze drifting from her slender shoulders, to her narrow waist and curving hips. She turned quickly, but not so quickly, he hoped, that she caught where his eye had wandered.

“Look, just because my grandmother invited you over, that doesn’t mean we’re hiring you.”

“Fair enough. After all, you still have those references to verify.”

“That’s right.” Her shoulders straightened as she met his gaze. “And I want to consider other bids, as well. I’ve already done some checking around. I saw an advertisement for Parker Remodeling—”

“Travis Parker.” Ryder scowled at the man’s name. “You don’t want to hire him.”

“Why not? You’re not afraid of a little competition, are you?”

“Parker isn’t competition. What he is is a first-class womanizer with a reputation for not taking no for an answer.”

Lindsay blinked in surprise, taken aback by his warning tone. “Well, I can take care of myself. I have been for a long time now.”

Ryder knew that was probably truer than he could imagine. But that didn’t mean he liked the idea of her having to fend off a guy like Travis Parker. Not that he was entirely sure why the thought of the notorious player hitting on Lindsay bothered him as much as it did.

He was looking out for her. Protecting Lindsay— Hell, protecting her in a way he hadn’t protected her from himself ten years ago. He owed her that much, though judging by the way she lifted her chin a stubborn notch, she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

“Still, I’m sure there’s another handyman in town.”

Handyman. Right. “Look, Lindsay, about that...I’m not exactly a handyman. I was hired by a contracting company to work on remodeling projects—like what you probably have in mind for updating this place.”

Her brow furrowed at the warning in his voice. “Okay.”

“The thing is—the company I work for—it’s Pirelli Construction. Drew Pirelli’s company. I wanted you to know in case you thought it made things, you know, too complicated.”

* * *

“Too complicated.”

Lindsay blinked as Ryder’s words sank in, and that hysterical laughter rose in her throat again. Complicated? What could possibly be complicated about hiring the father of her child, who worked for the cousin of the man everyone thought was the father of her child?

Not to mention fixing up the house so her grandmother would be even more convinced she should stay in the old Victorian when the entire goal had been to get the place ready to sell?

Oh, no. No complications there at all.

“It’s a solid company, Lindsay, and I do good work,” Ryder vowed. “You won’t be sorry.”

But she already was, wasn’t she? Seeing Robbie and Ryder together for the first time had hit her harder than she’d imagined. From the moment her son was born, it had just been the two of them. Her parents and grandparents had supported her, and Lindsay didn’t know what she would have done without them. But she had been the only parent Robbie had known. She’d never faced the thought of sharing him. Of letting him go, even the smallest amount, because he’d always been hers alone.

The fear and uncertainty churning inside her were almost enough to make Lindsay want to grab Robbie and race back to Phoenix. And then Ryder stepped closer, and something...more was added to the mix of emotions. Something that held her in place despite that urge to run.

His gaze searched her face, and there was no sign of the teasing grin he’d flashed her way earlier. If anything, his expression was more serious than she’d ever seen, guilt and regret pulling at his handsome features. “I know with everything that happened between us, I don’t really have the right to ask. But all I’m looking for is a chance to prove I’m not the same guy I was in high school.”