Hudson couldn’t stand yelling and crying, emotional disruption. He groaned, anticipating the battles ahead. He’d planned to spend this Sunday on the couch reading the Gazette. A bath at eleven o’clock in the morning—yeah, that was going to go over well. Simon hated taking a bath almost as much as Hudson hated giving him one. The kid would scream and he let him have his way. What else could he do?
“Well, she certainly knows how to take matters in hand.”
Hudson turned to Mrs. Murdoch and smiled tightly. “She does, doesn’t she?”
“We could use a person like that at the theater.” Mrs. Murdoch pursed her lips and puckered her brow. “Mr. Grace, do think you could persuade Miss Shannon to attend one of our rehearsals? Our director is a good man but he’s experiencing problems with the cast. We’d value Miss Shannon’s comments.”
Hudson gazed at Mrs. Murdoch and his smile broadened. Tag, you’re it. “When?”
“This afternoon, at four pm. On stage at the old theater.”
“She would be honored. After all, that’s what she’s here for—to serve the community.”
“I thought she was researching a role.”
He hadn’t been given the authority to talk about Michael Shannon’s conviction. That was up to Michael herself. “It’s a little of both,” he said quickly.
“How fortunate for our little theatrical community; we look forward to hearing what she has to say.”
That’ll soon change, thought Hudson. But Michael Shannon was Mandrake Falls Theatrical Society’s headache now. This afternoon would be peaceful after all.
“ME WAN’ down.”
“Gladly. You are too heavy to be carried anyway.” They were in Simon’s bedroom. Michael dumped the boy unceremoniously on the bed and crossed to the door. She’d left Hudson in the kitchen to clean up the mess Simon had made earlier. Judging by the park ranger’s cheerful whistling, Michael doubted much cleaning could be going on.
“Hey!”
She turned and eyed Simon coldly. “What?”
“I come wid you?”
Michael nodded and waited for him while he clambered from the bed and ran to her on his stubby little legs. He was barely out of babyhood, Michael realized. His little hands and arms were still puffy like a toddler’s and although he was a sturdy walker, she sensed the skill had been recently acquired. Recent in adult terms anyway. Simon slipped his hand in hers as they crossed the hall to the bathroom. Michael softened but resolved not to bend on this issue. Instinct told her no one could be really happy with dirty hair. Besides, wasn’t cleanliness next to something really important?
“Where we going?”
“I’m going to give you a bath.”
“Why?”
“Because you need one.”
“No.”
Michael closed the bathroom door behind them. “Trust me, Simon, you do.”
Simon pursed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest with an attitude that reminded her of his uncle. “No.”
“Do you say no to everything?”
“No.”
Michael grinned and bent over the tub to put in the plug. The tub was the old-fashioned kind, wide and deep, and she had to stretch to reach drain hole. She ran the water, checking the temperature with her wrist. Michael wasn’t entirely clear on why the wrist rather than just the hand but she’d seen her friend do it that way. She figured millions of mothers couldn’t be wrong.
The tub filled with warm water. Michael dumped a capful of shampoo under the stream to make bubbles. “This’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
Silence.
Michael looked over her shoulder. The boy was standing on the toilet seat wearing nothing but his socks. “Simon, you’ll fall!”
He reached a pudgy hand to a shaker of baby powder sitting on the shelf above the toilet. Michael saw, as if in slow motion, the disaster happening before she could get to her feet to prevent it. Simon had caught hold of the baby powder shaker and spun about sending a cloud of powder into the air.
“No!” She choked and then was seized with a violent sneezing fit. The kid flung the container over her head, aiming for the bathtub but hit the bottle of shampoo, knocking it into the tub. In no time at all, the stream of running water had agitated the shampoo until the tub was overflowing with bubbles. The whole disaster took place in a matter of seconds and Michael was still reeling when she heard Simon’s squeal. She spun around in time to witness him climbing over the side of the tub. In seconds, his bright blonde head disappeared under the suds.
“Simon!” Panicked, Michael dove into the tub head first. She caught the boy around his slippery middle and pulled him to the surface. He peered at her round-eyed though a mask of bubbles. “Are you all right?” Michael examined him anxiously, checking his breathing.
He gifted her with a beaming smile and pointed to the taps still running full blast. They were filling the tub to overflowing. “Oh my God!” Michael couldn’t relinquish her grip on Simon again, not wanting to risk a repeat of the last heart-stopping five seconds. She pawed uselessly at the water with her free hand as it poured over the edge of tub. “Hudson!” she shouted. “I need your help!”
HUDSON SCRUTINIZED the chaos strewn over the kitchen, calculating the hours it would take to clean it all up. Moving would be faster. He’d hire a cleaning lady for the day, but the only woman who would clean his house was his mother and she died four years ago. Hudson sighed. Returning boxes and cans to the cupboards seemed less daunting than trying to wipe up the smeared jam. He decided to tackle that first.
The large comfortable sofa in the living room beckoned. That’s where he should be: reading the Mandrake Falls Gazette in front of the fire, not coping with domestic damage control.
Patience, dude; in a couple of hours, she’ll be out of your hair and interfering in someone else’s operation. Michael Shannon just had to observe one rehearsal and she would not be able to resist taking over. It was in her nature. And they were mounting a Christmas play, Hudson remembered. He used to date a woman who was active with the group. Merry Christmas, guys.
A scream emitted from the bathroom loud enough to be heard over the running water. Hudson shuddered and consoled himself that she wouldn’t be here much longer. Michael’s voice rose over the sound of water. They were definitely having fun. When was the last time he’d heard his nephew laugh like that? Hudson grabbed the broom from the corner and started sweeping the spilt flour and cornflakes into a neat pile. He’d pick them up later, he decided, when he could find the dustpan. So maybe housekeeping wasn’t his thing. Did a messy house turn a kid into an axe murderer? He did his best but he didn’t pick up on things with the speed Michael did. Simon always seemed happy. It never occurred to Hudson to correct Simon’s behavior in church. He had to laugh though, remembering how she’d faced them all down, doing what none of them had the guts to do. With her hair loose, tumbling about her face, green eyes shining with determination, she looked like an Amazon. Unlike some men of his acquaintance, Hudson admired powerful women. He had a book filled with the phone numbers of powerful women to prove it. Women like Michael Shannon were not new to his experience.
She was different though in a way that eluded him. Hudson tried to put a name to the difference but found he couldn’t. Whatever it was, he hadn’t come across it before.
He put the broom away and surveyed his handiwork. Not bad. At least the counters were clear. He’d clean up the jam later. Another scream came from the bathroom. She was really having a good time with the kid. He felt a twinge of jealousy. If it weren’t for his nephew, he wondered if Michael would’ve bothered sticking around the cabin at all today.
That’s it. That’s the difference!
Hudson paused, as if moving too fast would chase the fragile understanding away. The difference between Michael Shannon and every other woman in his little black book was that Michael Shannon didn’t notice him at all.
Either she was faking her disinterest or she really didn’t giv
e a damn. Hudson raked his fingers through his hair. And then annoyed by the impulse that made him want to straighten up before seeing her, he mussed his hair up again. He was an attractive, personable man; there was no reason why Michael Shannon shouldn’t be bowled over by him. Bowled over.
He started down the hall. Charm her but stop short of seduction. He was still her supervisor, after all. Sleeping with her would be extremely wrong—as in don’t even think about it. No, what he had in mind was a sort of contest, a private bet to see if she was as susceptible as other women were to his personality. Healthy male attention—that’s all a woman craves. Hudson grinned with renewed confidence. He’d have Michael Shannon eating out of his hand within the hour.
Hudson swung the door open. “Okay, the kitchen is done. What the—?” His heel made contact with something slick on the bathroom tile and his feet slipped out from under him. Bellowing, Hudson crashed to the floor.
Michael glared at him, blinking bubbles out of her eyes. Her hair hung in saturated ropes over her face and she was soaked to the skin. “Where have you been? I’ve been yelling for help for the last twenty minutes.”
Hudson lay on floor, breathing into the pain that was shooting through his left buttock.
“Don’t just lie there—turn off the water. I can’t let go of him.”
He dragged himself to the edge of the tub and quickly twisted the taps. The water gurgled and swam over the side of the tub aided by Simon’s gleeful splashing.
“This never happens when I give him a bath.”
“We never have a baff like dis!” crowed Simon enthusiastically.
“Spare me,” said Michael. “I’ll bet your idea of a bath is to send Simon out in the rain.” Still clutching the little boy, despite the fact that his splashing was raising a tidal wave of water, Michael jerked her head in the direction of the taps. “Pull the plug, will you? If we drain some of the water out we may be able to control the mayhem.”
“How did this happen?” Hudson dipped into the tub and fished about for the plug. He was as soaked as she was now. Baby powder dusted everything that wasn’t wet which didn’t leave much.
“He kind of got away from me. He’s fast for a little kid.” She was flushed and seemed slightly frazzled. Michael smiled weakly. “It’s not as easy as it looks on television. The reality is far scarier than I imagined. And I have a good imagination.”
Hudson sat back on his heels, watching Michael covertly. She looked extremely sexy right now. Rattled but not giving up Simon. Close to drowning herself, she wouldn’t take her hands off the kid. It was very sweet, very maternal. He didn’t like that in a woman.
Hudson lurched away, slipping over the slick tile. Michael Shannon had to go. His secret weapon—the hellion nephew who usually took care of this sort of thing for him—had her wrapped around his little finger. Or was it the other way around?
“Now, don’t anyone move.” Michael had finally got a slippery grip and the water had gone down a bit in the tub. Things were looking up but she still needed to wash his hair. One false move and the whole enterprise would fall apart. Bathing the child had turned her into a nervous wreck. Hudson breathing down her neck wasn’t helping either. She prayed she remembered to pack the Xanax. Slowly, gingerly, she released the boy to reach for the submerged shampoo bottle and Simon immediately slipped backwards. Michael clamped both hands on him, her heart pounding. How was she supposed to wash his hair and hold him at the same time? Every time she relaxed her grip the kid went under. This was ridiculous. Millions of mothers bathed their kids every day without drowning them. There must be a secret. “One thing at a time,” she breathed aloud, and caught Hudson grinning at her with a smile that mirrored his young nephew’s. “What’s so funny?”
“You. Between the baby powder and the bubbles you look like a pissed off sheep dog.”
“Well, you—” She gave his long frame a derisive glance and had to shut up. He looked extremely delicious. His blue jeans were dark with water and clung to his thighs. The white T-shirt he was wearing was soaked and defined his shoulders perfectly. One look was enough to ruin her sleep tonight.
“You’re undressing me with your eyes.”
“You really should seek help for that low self-esteem of yours, Mr. Grace.”
“Are you going to bathe Simon or just soak him to death?”
“I’m doing the best I can. I can’t hold on to him and shampoo at the same time.” Michael shifted to one side. “Here, you take over while I clean the bathroom. It’s only eleven-thirty in the morning and I could already use a drink.”
Hudson reached behind her to take hold of Simon. She felt the pressure of his body against her back and she twisted to meet his gaze. He had beautiful pebble gray eyes, ringed with black and fringed with lashes that were wasted on a man. Her gaze drifted to his sensuous mouth, lingering briefly, before moving to his jaw line which was square and strong. She gave his face her full unabashed attention and he didn’t blink or look away. Hudson dipped his head closer bringing his lips disturbingly close to hers. Michael’s breath stopped. She was dimly aware that Simon was still playing, oblivious to the grownups. If she kissed him did that constitute a breach of her agreement with Gregory? Michael tipped her mouth so she’d be at the right angle should their lips happen to bump together through no fault of her own.
“I’m your supervisor, Michael. We can’t get involved.” His breathing sounded tight.
Michael felt her body responding. “No. That would be career suicide for both of us.”
“Yes. Wait—what? How could it be career suicide for you? I’m the person in authority here. If anyone was going to catch flak for this, it’d be me.”
“I’m in a relationship—a highly public relationship in a highly public profession. A dalliance with a park ranger would damage my reputation tremendously. The blow back would live online for months. With Vickie in a coma, I can’t risk the bad publicity.”
Hudson turned away. “Here, hold him a second.” He dumped a capful of shampoo on Simon’s head. “A dalliance. Huh, well, not to blow my own horn but I’ve never been a dalliance. If anything, the women I date never want to end the relationship. I’m the guy they always want to settle down with.”
“Huh, interesting,” Michael said, holding Simon while Hudson massaged shampoo into the boy’s scalp. “And yet you aren’t married. Turn on the water so we can rinse him.”
Hudson flipped the tap and tested the temperature. “That’s because I put Simon first. Simon and I are a package deal and a lot of women can’t handle that. They want to get married but there aren’t many who are as good with kids as you are.”
His smile was flattering and tinged with the right degree of humility. She had to give him credit. Michael swiveled Simon under the tap and tilted him back in her arms. “Don’t play a player, Mr. Grace. I used to use the same line on the men I was dating. My career comes first, package deal, lousy hours, blah, blah—and it always worked. The guy would leave me. I told myself the men were the problem but after a few months of therapy, I realized I was the problem. I don’t want a commitment anymore than you do. There’s nothing wrong with it; it’s just the way I’m made. I’m a lot happier now that I’ve accepted me for me.” Simon giggled as his uncle ran clear warm water over his head with practiced ease. “You should have told me you knew how to give him a bath.”
“You should have assumed I knew how. All done, little man, you can get out now.”
Michael stooped to lift the boy out of the tub and set him on his feet. He was still wearing his socks. They squished on the tiled floor. Michael sighed and pulled them off. “Well, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about your nurturing skills and took over bathing your nephew.”
“I’m not.” He looked at her chest. The cranberry-red knit dress she wore to church was clinging to her breasts.
She didn’t like the direction the conversation was going. Flirting was far too risky when one was snowbound in a cabin with a handsome man and a bubble
bath. “Look, Hudson, it’s not that you aren’t attractive—you are. But you’re just not my type. You have a purely physical appeal and I need my men to satisfy me intellectually.”
His mouth curled at the corners and his eyes sparked heat. “Men like Gregory?”
“How do you know about Gregory?”
“You said his name in bed last night. I didn’t get the impression it was his intellect you were interested in. You thought I was him until you—”
“All right, that’s enough. Don’t say another word. I was half-asleep. It doesn’t count.”
“Your face is red.”
She reached a towel off the rack and began vigorously drying Simon’s shivering little body. “Will you pass me the baby powder please? It’s on the floor behind your foot.”
Hudson handed her the powder, coughing when she sent a cloud of it into the air. “Are you telling me you don’t feel any attraction to me?”
“Of course I do. You are very attractive. It’s just that I am in a relationship, I have a career in New York and I have my priorities straight. And not to burst your bubble, but I’m in an industry where attractive men fall from the trees. You’re a star in Mandrake Falls, but in my world you’re just another good-looking guy. There’s a dry towel just above you; hand it to me, will you, and I’ll wrap Simon in it.”
Hudson reached for the towel, his brow furrowing. “I know we’ve only just met and I’ve heard these things sometimes take time. I’ve just never experienced it before.”
Michael wrapped the towel around Simon’s small shoulders, hiding her face so Hudson couldn’t see her smile. “You’re over-thinking it. Look, you’re a playboy and I’m a playgirl. The only difference between us is that I’ve given up my playgirl ways. I’m not the marrying kind but now that I’m in my thirties, I want a stable relationship. It’s better for my career.”
The Way Home: Winter (Mandrake Falls Series Romance Book 3) Page 4