Читать книгу Her Very Own Family - Trish Milburn - Страница 9

The buckets of paint nearly slipped from Audrey’s hands, but her brain reengaged in time for her to adjust her grip.

“Audrey York, this is my son, Brady.”

Good heavens, if Brady Witt did indeed look like his father had at the same age, the recently departed Betty had been a very lucky woman. Tall, nicely toned, natural tan, angular features. His sandy-brown hair was a touch long and a bit messy, like he didn’t have the time for a haircut or just didn’t care.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Let me take those,” Brady said as he reached for the paint cans.

“I’ve got them, thanks. But there are a couple of bags in the backseat with dinner in them.” Thankfully, she had extra.

As she turned away and started toward the mill, she exhaled slowly, trying to get her hammering pulse under control. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a good-looking man, far from it. So why did this one in particular cause her pulse rate to go supersonic?

Long days and little sleep, that’s why. Not to mention the stress of wanting to get the café up and running and lots of work standing between her and opening day. Of course, the fact that Brady Witt was drop-dead gorgeous could have something to do with the fact that her brain synapses were misfiring.

She told herself not to care how she looked in her sweaty tank top, cargo shorts and work boots, but she couldn’t help smoothing her hair once she’d placed the paint cans inside. Then she shook her head at her silliness. She didn’t have to look polished and professional anymore, and that’s the way she’d wanted it. Willow Glen was the antidote to all the disappointments in her old life.

“You can just set those over there.” She indicated the table as Brady and Nelson came in with the bags.

“Dad’s been telling me all about your plans for the place,” Brady said. “Seems like quite a job for one woman.”

“Well, your dad has been a big help.”

“So I hear.”

She glanced up at Brady as she pulled the sub sandwiches and chips from the bags. Was that suspicion in his voice?

No, it couldn’t be. He had no reason to suspect her of anything. She’d be glad when she stopped hearing and seeing accusations and suspicion everywhere she looked.

But even after they all sat down to eat, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her for some misstep, some clue that would shine a bright spotlight on everything she wanted to leave behind.

“So, what gave you the idea for this little venture?” Brady asked.

It didn’t take a top investigator to figure out that he didn’t think it would work. But that was okay. She had enough belief in the project to counter any naysayers.

“I came up here last year, did some hiking along the Willow Trail, canoed along the creek. That’s when I saw this old mill, and my imagination just started leaping with ideas.”

She didn’t much believe in fate or destiny anymore, except what you made for yourself, but something about the sight of this old mill when she’d floated by that day had spoken to her, called her name, begged her to save it. At the time, she’d taken photos of it to preserve the piece of history. Only later did actual preservation of the building occur to her as a way of guiding her life in a new direction.

“How do you plan to get people out here?”

“Advertise in tourist publications, build a spur trail from here to the Willow Trail, construct a take-in/takeout point for canoeists on the creek here, maybe even rent canoes at some point. Trust me, I thought about this a long time and didn’t jump into it lightly.”

She detected surprise in the widening of Brady’s greenish-gold eyes, and satisfaction bloomed inside her.

“Dad said you had a business plan. Looks like he was right. Well, good luck with everything.” He broke eye contact and glanced down at the crumbs of his meal.

He might mean it, but it sounded more like a throw-away comment, something you say to someone you don’t know and don’t plan on getting to know. The detachment irritated her.

“Thank you.” She stood and gathered all the sandwich wrappers, chip bags, napkins and paper plates from the table then deposited them in the trash can. “Well, I need to get to some paperwork.”

The chairs scraped the rough wooden floor behind her.

“We’ll see you bright and early in the morning,” Nelson said, as he did every afternoon when he left for the day.

“Actually, Dad, I thought we might go fishing tomorrow.”

“Fishing?” Nelson looked at his son as if the suggestion made no sense. “I’m in the middle of a job here.”

“I’m sure Ms. York can spare you for a few days,” Brady said.

“Certainly,” she said with forced brightness as she turned to face them. “Spend some time with Brady.”

“I can spend time with Brady here,” Nelson said. “I’ve got to get that window area finished then start work on the tables. And with one more set of experienced hands, the work will go faster.”

Brady shifted his stance like he wanted to argue, but he kept quiet. She’d give just about anything to peek inside his brain for two minutes.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” she said to Nelson. “You’ve been a dear so far, but—”

Nelson shook his head and waved off her objection. “No. Once I start something, I finish it. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, he patted her on the shoulder and headed outside, leaving her and Brady to stare after him.

She didn’t meet Brady’s eyes, but she felt his gaze on her.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said. “Guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

She uttered a “good night” and watched as he disappeared out the door, too.

So he was coming back with his dad. Fantastic, an entire day, maybe days, of him watching, suspecting. Oh, yeah, this was going to be all kinds of fun.

WHEN BRADY WALKED into the house, his dad wandered out of the kitchen holding a glass of milk.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?” his dad asked.

“What?”

“How you acted with Audrey. You were nearly rude.”

“I wasn’t rude.”

“You know I’ve been helping her out, and right in front of her you say you want me to go fishing instead.”

“I thought it’d be nice, that’s all.”

Nelson raised one eyebrow. “You do remember I’ve been catching you in lies since you were able to talk, right?”

“It’s nothing, okay? I was just surprised you’d been spending so much time with her and hadn’t mentioned it.” Brady tossed his bag on the couch.

“I’m thankful she’s given me something to do. It’s not like I’m dating the girl. She’s young enough to be my daughter.”

Brady didn’t respond, didn’t know how.

His dad caught his eye just as he took a drink of his milk. Nelson lowered the glass. “That’s what you thought, isn’t it? That I’d taken up with someone already?”

Brady waved away the accusation. “No, of course not.” The lie gnawed at his gut.

Anger replaced the sadness in his dad’s eyes. “Don’t you ever doubt how much I loved your mother. She was my one and only.”

Brady shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I know that, Dad.”

“Well, if you know that, why the suspicion?”

“It’s not your actions I’m worried about.”

“What, you think a pretty young girl like Audrey would be after an old codger like me?” He gave Brady a raised-eyebrow look that said the very idea was the height of unlikely.

“You have a TV. You know it happens. Young women hooking up with older men for their money.”

His dad actually snorted, the closest thing to a laugh Brady had heard from him in a long time, since before his mom’s stroke.

“I’m old, not stupid.”

“What do you really know about her, anyway?”

“I know she moved here from Nashville because she wanted to get out of the city. That she’s excited about this project, is enthusiastic, a very hard worker, is addicted to the Food Network and is missing it. And she was a friend to an old man when he needed one.” His dad shook his head. “I even joked with her that I was going to try to fix the two of you up. Looks like she was right.”

Brady tilted his head slightly. “About what?”

“That it’s a bad idea.” With that, Nelson sat his empty glass on the end of the kitchen counter and headed down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Brady stood in the middle of the living room, wondering how he’d managed to handle this whole situation so badly. All he wanted to do was make sure his father was okay, that he wasn’t duped. But somehow he’d turned into the bad guy. Just great. That should make the next two weeks freaking wonderful.

AFTER YET ANOTHER dreadful night of sleep, Audrey was on the steep, A-shaped roof, nailing down new pieces of silver tin roofing by six the next morning. The gentle breeze in the surrounding forest and the trickling of the creek next to the mill should have soothed her, but even they couldn’t smooth her ragged edges. By the time Nelson and Brady showed up, her mood still hadn’t improved.

“Lord, girl, what are you doing up there?” Nelson asked as he looked at her with his eyes shaded by his hand.

“Roofing. I’ve got to get this done before the electrician shows up in case it rains.”

“How in the world do you know how to roof a building?”

She hesitated as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. How to answer? “I volunteered for Habitat for Humanity after Katrina.” True. No need to mention the missionary trips to developing countries when she’d helped build homes for the poorest of the poor.

Nelson pointed toward where she kneeled. “Brady, get up there and help her.”

“No, really, I’m fine.” The last thing she needed while perched on a roof was Mr. I’m Watching You by her side, no matter how good-looking he was.

As if to spite her determination to work alone, however, she moved her foot and accidentally sent her hammer sliding down and off the edge of the roof onto the ground below. She bit down on the expletive, not wanting to utter it in front of Nelson.

She glanced at Brady to determine his reaction. His face was hidden from her, however, as he bent to retrieve the hammer. Nelson shook his head as he headed indoors.

Audrey directed her gaze at the tree canopy above and took a few deep breaths, told herself that everything would be fine. All she needed to do was let Brady get to know her a little so the suspicion she’d seen in his eyes the day before disappeared. Maybe it was just a small-town suspicion of newcomers and nothing more. She’d have to overcome that to make her café successful, so she might as well start tackling it now.

Brady appeared at the top of the ladder, hammer in hand.

“Thank you,” she said as he handed it to her.

Without asking, he stepped onto the roof and slid one piece of tin after another into place while she hammered.

“I can do that for a while if you like,” he offered.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” Actually, physical labor felt good, cathartic even.

A couple of minutes went by before he spoke again. “Did the tin do something to tick you off?” he asked, a touch of teasing in his question.

She stopped, realized thoughts of the past had caused her to start hammering harder. She leaned against the roof and wiped the sweat off her forehead again. “I just want to get done.”

“Won’t do you any good if you beat a hole through the roof.”

Audrey stared down at her boots, frustrated that the past still had the ability to make anger pulse through her. She didn’t want to be that angry, disappointed person anymore. She took several seconds to cool off and catch her breath then went back to hammering, though less violently this time.

“So, how’d you and my dad meet?” Brady asked.

She swallowed her instinctive aversion to questioning and replied in an even tone, “At the grocery store. I helped him find something he was looking for.”

“And that led to him working out here every day?”

Audrey glanced at Brady. “You’re the inquisitive sort, aren’t you?” she asked, keeping her question light, not accusatory.

Brady sat back and propped one forearm on his upturned knee. “I’m just looking out for my dad.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Why?”

“Because he seemed like he needed it.” One glance at Brady told her that he had, indeed, simply been concerned for his recently widowed father’s welfare. She remembered how lost Nelson had looked in the grocery store and understood Brady’s concern. Just because the concept of a close relationship with a parent wasn’t within her current realm of possibility didn’t mean they didn’t exist anymore. Even she had once enjoyed such a relationship.

Nelson wandered outside to dump some wood scraps into the burning barrel. Neither she nor Brady spoke until the older man stepped back inside.

“Listen, I’m not sure what you were thinking, but I’m not out to get anything from your dad. He’s a nice man, and I’ve liked having him around. And he appears to like coming out here.”

Brady stretched his legs out and leaned back on his palms. He stared toward the gentle flow of the creek. “I’m sorry. He was just acting so different from the last time I saw him.”

“But that’s a good thing.”

Brady looked at her, questions written all over his handsome face.

“When I met your dad, he was standing in front of the cherry pie filling in the grocery store, totally overwhelmed by which one to buy. He was on the verge of tears. It made my heart break. He looked so relieved when I helped him pick a can for cobbler.”

Brady lowered his head, as if he were trying to see his dad through the tin of the roof. “Mom’s cobbler. It’s his favorite dessert.”

“I didn’t know about your mom then. I thought your mom had sent him to the store to do the shopping she normally did.” She told him about her conversation with Meg the cashier and her subsequent encounter with his dad in the parking lot. “I was only trying to help him in that moment. But once he came out here with those picture frames, he seemed to want to talk. The more we talked and I told him about my ideas, the more of his sadness drifted away. I mean, I still see it sometimes, but I honestly think it’s good for him to stay busy. It keeps his mind on something other than how much he misses your mom.”

And Audrey was the expert on staying busy to keep other thoughts at bay.

“I know. That’s part of the reason I came up here. I was worried about him. He hasn’t been the same person since Mom died.”

“That’s understandable. They were married for a long time. This isn’t something you get past in a few days.” She remembered the deep sorrow that had cloaked her own mother in the weeks following the unexpected death of Audrey’s father.

Brady glanced up at her. “You say that like you know from experience.”

She swallowed and shook away the unwanted memory. “Just common sense.” She lifted the hammer and moved toward the top of the roofline. “We should try to finish this before it gets too hot. I’m already sweating like I’ve been jogging across Death Valley.”

The old keeping-busy philosophy at work. If she filled her mind with roofing and painting and electrical wiring, she didn’t have to remember the father she’d lost. Or the mother she’d walked away from.

AUDREY YORK MIGHT NOT be after his father’s money, but she was definitely hiding something. Call it gut instinct, but he’d seen something in her eyes, almost a touch of fear. Fear that he’d find out something she wanted to keep hidden? He shook his head, realized yet again that he was comparing her to a bad memory. His brain knew all women weren’t like Ginny, but his gut kept missing the memo.

But he had to give credit where credit was due. She was indeed a hard worker. She was slicked with sweat, cuts and scrapes covered her hands and knees, her hair was coming loose from her ponytail, and she didn’t pay any of it a moment of attention. Her single-minded focus stayed on getting this roof completed in record time.

He paused for a moment to watch her hammer. Even disheveled, she was a beauty. And she acted like she was either unaware of that fact or didn’t care. Before his work pants became uncomfortable, he pulled another piece of tin into place.

“Dad said you moved from Nashville. Did you run a restaurant there?”

Audrey made one last strike of the hammer before shifting to the right and the next piece of tin. “No.” She paused to lift her sweaty face to what little breeze was stirring the air. She seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I was a fund-raiser.”

Fund-raiser to restaurant owner—odd transition. So was Nashville to Willow Glen.

“What about you?” she asked. “I hear you have a construction company or something.”

Brady noticed how she deflected the focus back to him, how she seemed unaware of how big Witt Construction was. Maybe he’d just acknowledge the small Kingsport location and see how she reacted. “Half of one. My partner, Craig, owns the other half.” He caught the quick, questioning glance she tossed his way. “That’s business partner, not partner partner.”

She laughed. “You guys are so overly sensitive about that topic.”

“Just clarifying.” Wow, she should definitely smile more often. It rocketed her from beautiful to stunning.

“What?”

The questioning look on her face told him he’d been staring again. She had that effect on him. “Nothing. I was thinking you seem to be in a safer mood now that you’re not trying to murder the tin with that hammer.”

She held up the tool in question and stared at it. “Guess I worked out most of the frustration I was feeling.”

He held up a hand, palm out. “Remind me to never frustrate you.”

Damn, he was flirting. He wasn’t here to get a date. He’d left a pile of his own work behind to make sure his dad was okay. But he’d done that and yet here he still was, working for no pay. Seemed his dad was no longer the only person on his mind.

Audrey shook the hammer at him in mock threat, then went back to her task.

Just because he wasn’t looking to hook up didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view while he worked.

They were putting the last piece of tin on one side of the roof in place when a racket and then a string of curses came from inside the mill. They nearly tripped over each other getting to and down the ladder. When they rushed inside, Nelson was holding his hand and still uttering a few choice words.

“What’s wrong?” Audrey rushed toward Nelson.

“Ah, I smashed my finger with the hammer.”

“Let me see.”

Brady watched as Audrey took his dad’s hand in hers, turned it over carefully and examined it. Something shifted inside him at the gentleness and concern. He didn’t think anyone could fake with that much authenticity.

“We need to take you to the emergency room, make sure you haven’t broken anything,” Audrey said.

His dad moved his hand out of hers. “No need for that. It’s nothing.”

“It’s turning a nice shade of eggplant,” she argued, her hands on her hips.

“Honey, if I’d gone to the hospital every time I smashed my fingers, I’d have funded an entire new wing by now.”

Brady smiled, glad to see more and more of the dad he’d always known coming back to the light of day.

“At least let me get you an ice pack.”

“Okay, if it’ll make you feel better,” Nelson said with a teasing smile.

“It’s supposed to make you feel better, you stubborn old man.” She shook her head, acting exasperated with him.

Brady tried to hide a laugh but didn’t fully succeed.

“What are you laughing at?” his dad asked. “You get over there and finish up what I started. And try not to hit your finger. She’ll be hauling us both off to the E.R.”

Audrey swatted Nelson on the upper arm as she headed for the cooler in the corner. After fixing Nelson an ice pack and sitting him in a lawn chair in the corner, Audrey pulled a couple of bottles of water out of the ice. She tossed one to Brady as he moved toward the window frame his father had been constructing.

Brady turned in time to see Audrey down about half her water before coming up for air. Condensation from the bottom of the bottle dropped onto her chest and rolled downward toward the scoop of her tank top. Brady’s skin heated, and he licked his lips before he could think not to.

“Ow.” Brady winced at the sudden pain in his leg and turned around to find his dad giving him the look he always used when he’d found Brady misbehaving. So the old man hadn’t missed his gawking.

“What?” Audrey asked as she rolled her cold bottle of water to her forehead.

“Nothing,” Nelson said. “Just giving the boy a little nudge.”

Yeah, if you called a kick to the calf with a steel-toed work boot a nudge.

Staring at warm, enticing female flesh wasn’t a problem after Audrey returned to the roof. Thing was, he was hotter now than he’d been sitting on tin with the sun beating down on him.

His dad walked across the room, moving to the open doorway in Brady’s peripheral vision.

“She’s a good girl. Don’t trifle if you don’t really like her.”

Nelson stepped outside without giving Brady the chance to respond that he had no intention of trifling. Dang, all he’d done was look. He was a red-blooded male, young, healthy, single. When a beautiful woman was nearby, he tended to notice. But anything beyond that with someone his dad considered a friend had bad idea written all over it. Because Brady wasn’t a long-term kind of guy—not anymore.

An engine started outside, and it only took a moment for Brady to realize it was his truck. By the time he reached the door, his dad was heading down the lane toward the road.

First his dad told him to steer clear of Audrey then he left the two of them alone. What was the old guy up to?