by Cat Johnson
Now who was the one angry?
No wonder I was good with the kid upstairs. I’d had a lifetime to practice on Cash and his juvenile behavior.
I decided to change the subject to something away from Cash. That would piss him off nicely as well. He did love being the center of attention. Must be a middle child thing.
“Hey, Bart. You got anything going on after school tomorrow?”
He shook his head, never stopping his double-handed rubbing of Romeo’s ears. “No. Why?”
“I’m going to bring Stewie over to the farm. I wanted to see if you’d be home.”
The kid cocked up a brow. “Don’t lie. You’re bringing him over to see Romeo. Not me.”
I laughed. “And you’re too smart for your own good.”
He smiled. “Gotta be smart to keep up with you.”
I got a glance at Cash’s deep frown. Cash had taken Bart under his wing months ago.
It was clear Cash didn’t like my having an influence on the kid too, which was crazy. If I’d learned one thing when my family had taken in a troubled foster care child, it was that it would take the whole family to raise him.
Cash knew that too. It was just his ego getting in the way here. I should probably cut him some slack. But what fun would that be?
“So.” I slapped Cash on the back. “Thanks for coming over to get the dog. You saved me a trip since I’m sleeping here tonight.”
Cash shook his head. “Jesus, Boone. You’re such a man whore. Is there even one transplant from the city here in Mudville you haven’t fucked?”
Man whore? Jeez. That was harsh.
I shot a glance toward the doorway to make sure Sarah was still in the other room and out of earshot, before turning back to Cash.
Sticking to keeping things light, as hard as that was after that last insult, I said, “Yes, there is. I never touched Stone’s girlfriend. I didn’t touch Brandon, our latest transplant from the city, either, for that matter.”
Grinning at my own joke I grabbed Cash by the shoulders and turned him toward the door.
“So, thanks for coming. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.” Ushering Cash out of the kitchen with one hand on the back of his neck, I glanced back. “Come on, Bart. Time to go. Don’t forget Romeo’s chew toy.”
I’d had enough. Time to get this family of mine out of here before Sarah finished with her phone call.
I might have to put up with my family, but she did not. I’d consider it part of my duties here to keep them away from her.
Besides, it would be too much of a challenge to be charming with my brat of a brother around. And whenever Sarah was done with her call, I intended to be just that.
Freaking Prince Charming.
Hell, the way the air sizzled between us, I was pretty sure she’d be happy if I charmed the pants right off her.
That sounded horrible, even in my own head. But seriously, that was definitely on my mind. Why wouldn’t it be? She was smart. Sexy.
No one could blame me for wanting to get to know her much, much better.
Not even my damn brother.
SEVEN
Sarah
After walking into the living room, I had to ignore that I’d left Boone’s family in the kitchen and focus as I hit to accept the video call from my sister.
I hadn’t talked to her since taking possession of Stewie.
This was Liza’s first deployment, but we’d grown up with a career military father, so we were both used to the intricacies—and the challenges—of military life.
But more than that, this was her first time being away from Stewie for an extended period of time. I knew she must be losing her mind.
“Liza. Hi. How are you?”
“I miss my baby,” she said, the truth of that written all over her expression.
I ignored how the uniform made her look more like a stranger and less like the sister I’d known for the past twenty-seven years. “I know. He’s fine. I promise. He’s in bed.”
She sighed in disappointment, letting the breath out slowly as she visibly deflated. “Okay. Sorry I couldn’t get online any sooner.”
“Want me to wake him up?” I offered, ready to do anything to keep those tears I saw glistening in my baby sister’s eyes from falling.
My being a dozen years older than Liza meant I had a motherly protective streak a mile wide when it came to her.
If I didn’t think it would send me up the river for the rest of my life, I would have happily strangled the man who’d gotten her pregnant and then broke her heart.
He knew it too, since I reminded him every one of the very few times I’d seen him since. Although it was in my best interest to keep him alive and healthy since the one decent thing the bastard actually did was pay child support. Not much since he had a crap job but at least it was something.
“No. Don’t disturb him.” Liza shook her head at my offer to wake Stewie. “It’s fine.”
She wasn’t fine, I could see that, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I moved to the heavily carved Victorian settee and sat.
Liza’s brows drew down. “Wait. That’s not your apartment. Where are you?”
I remembered a lot had happened since we’d seen each other last. “Um, yeah. My apartment was too small for us both. So I kind of rented a house for the next couple of months.”
“A house? Where?”
“Mudville.”
Her dark brows rose above eyes that were the same green as mine. “Mudville? Where the heck is that?”
I let out a short laugh. “Good question. It’s somewhere off the highway between your apartment and mine.”
“And you rented a house there why?”
“It’s commutable to my job. The price is right and the owner let me rent it month-to-month with no lease. It’s got a nice big yard for Stewie to play in. And—I don’t know—it just felt right. And Stewie seems to really love it here.” I shrugged.
“When did you move in?” she asked.
“Today, actually.”
She drew in a big breath. “Wow.”
Wow was right. And Liza didn’t even know the half of it.
The responsible thing to do would be tell her I’d also hired a manny. Even better, I should go get Boone and let her talk to him herself so she could feel confident he was a good choice to watch Stewie.
I didn’t do either. She had enough to deal with at the moment. At least that was the excuse I told myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to know I’d somehow hired the hottest guy in town to not only babysit her kid, but also live in the same house with us.
To be fair, I had asked for references and I’d actually checked on them. I wasn’t completely insane. Yet.
“So where are you?” I asked, anxious to change the subject about my moving her kid to a new town without asking her first.
“A post in Germany. But not for long. We’re moving out again shortly.”
Moving out to someplace dangerous, I was certain. My chest tightened and my overprotective older sister side kicked in again. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. Okay? You just take care of yourself. I've got this.”
“Do you?” she smiled. “You didn’t sign up for having a three-year old twenty-four/seven. And I know you can kick ass in a board room but babysitting? I’m not so sure.”
“Hey.” I frowned and flashed her a mock stern glare. “I can dominate anything I set my mind to.”
“Says the woman who never had to deal with a rambunctious little boy.” Liza’s smile looked sad.
Her heart was breaking from missing her son. And the only thing I could do was offer words and promises to reassure her.
I’d have given anything to hug her right now.
“Liza. Seriously. We’re okay. I promise you.”
She nodded, her eyes glistening again. “I know. I believe in you.”
I was happy she had confidence in me, even if there’d been a bit this morning over oatmeal when I hadn’t had any faith i
n myself.
Liza glanced behind her. “I really gotta go. There’s a line to use the computer.”
“Oh. Okay. When do you think you can call again? I’ll try to make sure Stewie is around.”
“I don’t know.” She radiated stress, and now, so did I, but I did my best to hide it.
“Okay. We’ll make it work. Love you.”
“Love you too. Give Stewie a big hug and tell him I love him.”
“I will.” I hesitated, not wanting to let go of this small contact. Finally, I said, “Goodbye, Liza.”
“Bye.” Standing so I got an expanded view of her in uniform—still surreal an image to me—she leaned down, hit a button and the call disconnected.
My screen went blank.
I’d left my wine in the kitchen, along with Boone’s family. I weighed if one was worth dealing with the other. But I could really use a drink right about now after that emotional call.
Creeping toward the doorway, I listened. The only sound was that of the door to the backyard closing. Followed closely by the aroma of barbecued steak.
I peeked around the corner to see if the coast was clear.
Boone, of course, caught me. His face broke into a smile when he realized what I was doing.
“It’s safe. They’re gone,” he said.
I couldn’t deny that’s exactly what I’d been checking for, so I didn’t try, and instead made a beeline for my glass.
“Hungry?” Boone asked, his gaze tracking my path as I headed from the wine. “Dinner’s ready.”
Stewie had eaten something else earlier. This was the adult meal and I couldn’t deny it smelled really good.
It looked good too and no doubt it would taste just as wonderful. Still, my stomach twisted after that phone call with Liza.
But Boone had cooked and I had to be polite. “Sure. Thanks.”
Luckily, my hunger and my taste buds overrode my upset stomach. After the first bite of the juicy steak, grilled to perfection, I dug into the rest with enthusiasm.
So did Boone and boy, could he pack it away. In fact, watching Boone eat was an adventure all its own.
He polished off an entire steak, three ears of corn dripping in butter, and one huge sweet potato.
The good news was, he ate and drank single-mindedly and I didn’t have to make small talk or hold up my end of the conversation.
When his plate was clean, save for the bare cobs from the corn, I said, “That was really good. Thank you for making it. And for bringing it.”
“My pleasure. Ain’t nothing like a good steak and fresh corn on the grill.” He leaned back with a sigh, his hands on his perfectly flat belly as I wondered where he put all that food.
Not that I was staring at his chest or anything, but I did notice there was a small spot on his T-shirt.
“You’ve got a little . . .” I pointed to his shirt where there was a dot of red. Spilled red wine maybe or possibly steak juice.
Boone glanced down. “Shit.”
Before I knew what was happening, he’d whipped his shirt off and was headed toward the kitchen faucet to rinse it.
I should have looked away, but I could no sooner do that than I could speak. The sight of Boone’s rock-hard muscles, bronzed from the summer sun, had rendered me speechless.
“I think it’ll come out in the wash.” He glanced up and caught me staring at him.
As an excuse for my stare, anything other than the reality that I wanted to jump him, I said, “How do you stay in such good shape with all you eat?”
“So, you think I’m in good shape, huh?” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “Humble, much?”
“Always.” He grinned wider. “But seriously, I take it from your question that you never worked on a farm.”
I was pretty sure he didn’t need a yes or no answer to that since it must be obvious I’d never done anything even remotely agricultural, other than murdering my annual poinsettia purchase, usually before December twenty-fifth. I gave him an answer anyway.
Cocking up one brow, I said, “No, I have not.”
“Well, that’s how I stay in shape and that’s also why I’m always hungry as a hostage.” He carried his clean plate to the sink, then returned for mine. Staring down at the remaining steak and potato he said, “And you eat like a bird.”
“That’s because I don’t work on a farm, but instead at a desk. I have to eat like a bird if I don’t want to look like one of your prize pigs.”
“We mainly raise cattle and grow corn. No pigs. Though I’m going to have to bring you and Stewie over to meet Petunia.”
“Petunia?” I asked.
“Agnes’s pet pig,” Boone answered, as if that explained everything.
I could see this conversation was going nowhere so rather than ask who Agnes was and possibly open myself up for yet another confusing answer, I just nodded.
Mudville had an other-worldly sense to it. Like life and time moved differently here than everywhere else.
It felt a little like I’d stumbled into some alternate reality when I’d gotten off that highway exit yesterday.
It was going to be interesting, not to mention challenging, spending days in the real world at my office and nights here in this idyllic Brigadoon-like place.
As Boone continued to work cleaning the dinner mess, shirtless, I got a glimpse of what my nights in Mudville were going to like.
Interesting and challenging, indeed.
EIGHT
Sarah
Monday morning I found the office was the same as when I’d left it two days ago, so it had to be me who was different, because I certainly felt like something had changed.
I’d put on my favorite suit—oatmeal-colored, with pants rather than a skirt. The hue complemented my coloring. The tailored cut of the jacket emphasized my waist while camouflaging the width of my hips and expansive rear-end.
I refused to think I’d chosen this outfit this morning, out of all the others I’d brought with me to Mudville, because it was my most flattering. Or because I hoped Boone would be up early to see me before I left.
Of course, he was awake, even though Stewie was still sleeping. Boone was up, with coffee brewed, and scrambled eggs and bacon hot on the stove.
He’d promised to get Stewie dressed and fed whenever the boy woke. Then he promised dinner would be ready for me whenever I arrived home tonight.
Home.
Dammit all, that old house was starting to feel like home.
That was the last thing I needed since the house—and Boone—were both temporary. Stop gap measures to get me through my sister’s deployment and my babysitting duties.
I could not covet Boone.
I also couldn’t fire him to remove the temptation of the incredibly hot and much too young man living with me because it was clear he was perfect for the job.
Had it been a sweet older lady who offered to cook and clean and watch Stewie for me day and night for the crazy low amount I was paying Boone, I’d have already locked her down into an iron-clad six-month contract in case I ended up watching Stewie the entire time Liza was away.
But it was Boone. Too tempting. Too hot. Too young . . .
Too handsome. Too shirtless. Too freaking perfect.
I was still trying to feel fully awake after the restless night I’d spent here—partly due to the newness of my surroundings, partly due to the shirt-lessness of my manny—when Kim appeared in my doorway.
“Hey. You all ready to get your nephew tonight? Were you able to find a sitter to watch him during the week?” she asked.
Oh, how things had changed since I’d talked to her last.
I remembered the last we’d discussed the situation had been Friday, when the plan had been for me to drive to get Stewie tonight.
That had been before the phone call Saturday that sent me scrambling to get him early.
I’d told her on Friday that I might have to take Tuesday off, depending on if I was able to hire childcare for St
ewie over the weekend, either to watch him at my apartment, or some sort of daycare where I could drop him off on my way to work.
Boy, had my situation altered dramatically. I let out a short laugh at the truth of that.
“Actually, plans have changed completely.” When I saw her frown furrow in concern, I rushed to add, “but it’s all good. You have time to sit? It’s kind of a long story.”
Kim’s brows rose. “In that case, I’m glad I just got a fresh cup of coffee.”
She placed the aforementioned cup on my desk and pulled out the chair.
Settling into the seat she leaned forward, more toward me than her coffee, and said, “Go on. I love a good story.”
I laughed. “Then you’re going to love this.”
By the end of my Mudville tale, which of course included Boone, Kim had her cell phone out. “What was the last name of your hottie manny again? Morgan?”
“What are you doing?” I asked, suspicious.
“Searching Instagram. Boone Morgan. Mudville, NY.” Her thumbs flew over the keyboard as she talked, but I didn’t think she’d find much of anything.
Boone didn’t strike me as a selfie-taking social media kind of guy.
In fact, I rarely saw him with his phone out. I’d noticed that because it was something I was guilty of myself—checking email during meals. Answering texts in the middle of the night when I heard the phone vibrate on the nightstand. Stalking my ex’s social media in moments of weakness or too much wine.
“I doubt you’re going to find—”
“Got him!” Kim grinned triumphantly. Her eyes widened and she turned the cell to face me. “Holy shit. Is this him?”
I glanced at her screen and my heart went pitter-pat.
It was Boone, all right. Dressed in full firefighter gear, which was a surprise. But the face was unmistakable. So was the ever-present grin.
I swallowed. “Uh, yeah. That’s him. I, uh, didn’t know he was a fireman.”
Kim pulled the cell back to look at it herself.
“Members of the Mudville, New York Volunteer Fire Department pose for a picture after the annual Flag Day Parade. Pictured left to right: Boone Morgan, Cashel Morgan.” She paused in her reading to whip her gaze up to me. “There’s two of them?”