Wood U (Carved Hearts #4)

by L. G. Pace III

  “What?” I asked, and she pulled me off to the side trail to make room for the people coming up the stairs after us. She bit her lip and squared her shoulders, and I knew I wasn’t going to want to hear whatever she was about to say.

  “You should be working with those apprentices, not Nick,” she said.

  I huffed, tipping my head back and crossing my arms. “Did your father put you up to saying that?”

  “No.” She drew out the word suspiciously. “Why? Does he agree?”

  My shoulders slumped as I realized why she’d been visiting me so much at the shop over the past few weeks. She was assessing my teaching skills, while the interns were assessing her assets. Now she had all kinds of ammunition in her arsenal, and by admitting her dad was on her side, she’d given me just enough rope to hang myself. “He told me the same thing when Molly had the twins and Joe had to take all that time off.”

  “Mac…I know you said Nick’s really good. And he is. I’ve seen what he can do. But you’re a master carpenter, just like Joe. Yes, Joe can carve, and he’s amazing. But your ideas…the way you look at something and transform it…make it into something new and functional…you need to be passing those skills along to these boys. Most of them will never carve like Joe. But if they can learn the techniques you use every day…that kind of product will make them a living.”

  “I’m no teacher, Kelly.” It sounded a little condescending, but to her credit, she had more patience by far than I do and didn’t bite my head off.

  “That’s not true.” Her gentle eyes were endearing, and I was willing to hear her out. She stepped closer and rested her palms on either side of my neck. “I watch you with M.J. all the time. He’s brilliant, but he’s smart because he’s nurtured. By you. You log the time, Mac. You challenge him.”

  “Sugar—” I started, but she didn’t let me cut her off.

  “I know you don’t want to teach.” She pulled away and headed back toward the stone steps. “But once you try it, you might find that you actually like it. It’s a chance to pass on all those lesson you’ve learned over the years. A chance at a little immortality.”

  It was sweet how she thought I was good enough to call me an expert, but my motivation to teach my son how to build a matchbox car was a far cry from anything I was feeling for the punks at work.

  “M.J. is my immortality,” I amended. She tilted her head, but she still wore a look of determination.

  “You’re missing my point, hon. You’re not just teaching these kids a hobby. They could support their families with the skills you’re teaching them one day. If you teach them the right way to do things. They’ll become the type of crew you’d want to work with if you take the time to groom them into that kind of carpenter. Mentoring is a huge responsibility, and I think you’re more than capable of doing the job.” She shook her head emphatically. “Don’t push it off on Nick. He’s eager, but he’s not ready. Let him do the scheduling and the other things you hate. But you need to be logging hours with those boys. They look up to you, whether you want them to or not, and you have the expertise they need to be exposed to.”

  I was quiet as we ascended to the top of the summit. I thought about what she’d said and realized it was exactly the kind of thing my dad would have told me. Molly had been the sponge who had absorbed all of his expertise. He’d been willing to teach Mason and me, but we’d been obsessed with ripping stuff apart and putting it back together again. We’d just naturally gone in another direction. While Mason made money as a general contractor, his side business painting cars kept him busy…too busy to strike out with Joe and me.

  Though I hadn’t planned on or wanted to be a mentor, a couple of the kids we had in the shop had shown real promise. They’d come up with some great ideas for my last batch of salvage, and it wouldn’t kill me to walk them through their designs so they could have a taste of success. I knew from experience that sometimes you just need a couple of victories to get you on the right path.

  We were cresting the hill when the viewing platform became visible. I could tell the moment that Kelly caught sight of Lake Austin, because she gasped and turned a complete circle.

  “Look! You can see all the way downtown!” she squealed, and her smile was like cool lemonade on a blistering summer day. She pulled me out of my introspection and back to my goal for the evening.

  “Race you,” I said and took off running for the unencumbered view of the river. Being the competitive little nymph she is, Kelly tore off ahead of me. Seconds later she went sprawling, scaring the hell out of the couple nearby who’d been quietly enjoying the view. Her cry chilled me to the bone.

  “Kelly!” I leapt forward, grabbing at her shirt as her body rolled toward the edge. My heart nearly stopped as I almost didn’t get a grip on her. My fingers dug into her, stopping her roll just three feet from the edge of the rock face. “Jesus, Kelly.” My pulse pounded in my ears as I fought back the image of her lifeless body smashed on the rocks below. Pulling myself up beside her, I cradled her face in one hand, but my other hand wouldn’t cooperate. It seemed to have a mind of its own and it was refusing to let go of her shirt. I could tell by her twisted features she was seriously hurt. She reached down for her ankle, wincing.

  “What just happened?” I asked her, baffled at her incessant ability to injure herself.

  “I s…stepped in a h…hole.” Her breathing was labored and I looked up to see the couple from the nearby bench was running our way.

  “Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” The woman looked at Kelly then at me, as if trying to figure out if I was friend or foe.

  “I’m fine,” Kelly said. She waved them off. “Sorry to have scared you. Mac, help me up.”

  I frowned, but offered my hand regardless. “Are you sure you can stand?”

  “Of course I ca—” Her sentence deteriorated into an agonized exclamation, and she nearly fell over as she tried to put weight on her foot. I righted her, and when I saw the tears that were welling in her eyes, I swept her up in my arms and started for the staircase.

  “Wait!” She protested, her voice raspy from the pain. “We don’t have to go. I can hop on one leg.” I heard a sigh of longing from the girl behind us.

  “You never carried me anywhere, Ted,” she said accusingly.

  “I’ve got a bad back, and you aren’t that thin,” the man said dryly.

  I fought back a chuckle. Kelly wiggled in my arms, and a pout appeared on her face. Her stubbornness was as adorable as it was infuriating. “You need a doctor, Sugar.”

  “But,” her lip trembled, “you can’t carry me all the way back down.”

  I eyed her dangerously. “Watch me.”

  Her soulful eyes that seemed incapable of disguising the truth, implored me. “Mac…”

  “I got this, Sugar.” I said, and as if I’d popped her balloon, she deflated against me. She sniffed, and I kissed her forehead, without taking my eyes off the path in front of me. “I got you.”

  THOUGH HE TRIED hard to hide it, Mac’s anger was obvious by the way he was working his jaw. I’d insisted we go to Urgent Care instead of the ER, and he thought it was a huge mistake. He was so sweet, trying to demand that we go to the hospital, but Urgent Care was so much cheaper, and my ankle didn’t feel broken. I could tell he wasn’t happy with me, but I’m sure it saved me thousands of dollars in the long run.

  A couple of hours and an X-ray later, I was being fitted for a brace. My walking wounded ensemble was completed by a set of crutches from a nearby medical supply store. Mac seemed out of sorts while the man was fitting me, pacing back and forth. I flushed, feeling terrible for tying up his entire Friday night.

  “Hey,” I said, working to sound more confident than I felt. “You don’t have to stay. I can take a cab.”

  “Like hell.” Mac’s blue eyes flashed, and he seemed genuinely offended. “You’re not going to be able to go home on crutches, Kelly. You’re coming to stay with me.”

  “Mac.” I
heaved a heavy sigh. “You know that won’t work. The doctor said I need these stupid things for two whole weeks. Junior will be at your place a good portion of that time.”

  “I’m worried about you trying to navigate those stairs on crutches.” He ran a hand over his dark beard. “No offense, Sugar, but you’re kind of a klutz.”

  I huffed out a surprised laugh, even though I wanted to cry. First I’d been told I couldn’t train for my race for a month, and now Mac was being over-protective. “I can’t intrude on your family life like that.”

  “Kelly,” he grumbled. “You’re part of my life. You’re not intruding on it.”

  It was probably the sweetest things anyone had ever said to me, and I really wanted to take him up on the offer. The thought of being with Mac in his house (and in his bed) for two solid weeks was tempting, but with M.J. around, it was way too intimate for where we were in our budding relationship. Even so, I felt a bit panicky about carrying anything more than my purse up the stairs on crutches. I quickly turned the situation around in my head and tried to weigh all my options.

  “Okay,” I conceded. “But I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Mac reacted as if I’d kicked him in the crotch.

  “Are you out of your mind?” he scoffed, and my expression must have revealed my displeasure, because he hurried to add an addendum. “I’ll sleep on the couch when M.J.’s home. You’re our guest, and you will most definitely not be crashing on my couch.”

  We stopped by my place so that I could pack a bag. After I insisted on hopping up the stairs with him as support, I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with the steps regularly. Mac insisted I rest on the bed and set about trying to pack for me. As amusing as he was trying to pick out my work clothes, I finally convinced him to stop goofing around and listen to me. I chose all skirts and sweats, knowing slacks and jeans would be too hard to manage with my swollen ankle, not to mention the awkward brace.

  Mac took my suitcase down to his truck, and he’d just returned for me when my father stuck his head in the half-open door.

  “Hey, you two,” he grinned, trying to put on a cheerful face. He still seemed to have lingering doubts about Mac and me, but he’d been very supportive during our weekly dinners; I’d chosen to ignore his unspoken reluctance. When Dad’s dark eyes dropped to my bulky brace, his face contorted with horror.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said. He moved into the living room from the small hallway that separated our apartments.

  “What did you do? Are you all right?” Dad looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be angry or upset. His gaze flicked between Mac and me with an increasing level of agitation.

  “Relax, Dad,” I said. “I took a spill on our hike today. The doctor says I’m going to be fine. I’ll just be on crutches for a couple of weeks.” Mac brought me a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down on the couch next to me.

  “Oh, hon.” Dad sat on the arm of the couch beside me. “Well, don’t worry about a thing. I can help you with shopping, and it won’t be any trouble at all to help you up and down the stairs until you heal.” The earnest look on his face was touching, if a bit inconveniently timed. Mac put his arm around me and settled back on the couch.

  “That’s okay, Francis. She’s going to stay at my place until she’s better. No stairs.” The look on my father’s face was only there for a split second, but it reminded me of the few times I had seen him truly angry. Then it was gone, and a look of placid contemplation replaced it.

  “It’s no trouble. I can make sure she gets around. And you have a kid of your own to take care of.” Mac stiffened a bit, and I cringed inwardly, wondering how he would respond. Dad’s tone hinted that there was some sort of story surrounding Mac’s son, but I knew from personal experience that Mac didn’t respond well to anyone challenging his parenting skills.

  “I’m used to looking after my kid. I’ve been doing it all his life,” Mac said lightly. “Kelly will be no problem at all.”

  Dad bristled, and my eyes widened at Mac’s cutting remark. Before Dad could respond, his phone rang. The sound made me jump, and I clipped my ankle on the leg of the coffee table. “Oh, Sugar,” Mac murmured, and he jumped up to get me some pain killers. Dad looked after him thoughtfully.

  “It’s up to you, Kelly. I really wouldn’t mind.” I considered his offer for at least three seconds before shaking my head. It would have been the smart thing, the grown- up thing to do. It would have removed a lot of complication from the next two weeks. I imagined myself curled up beside Mac night after night, and all maturity and propriety went out of the window.

  “Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate the offer. But we have it all worked out.”

  He nodded.

  “Do you think you’ll still come to the build off?” he asked mildly. “Beverly was really looking forward to finally meeting you.”

  I was already aware that he had a new lady in his life, and from the way he talked about her, they’d already known each other for a long time. I knew she ran the shelter where he volunteered, but that was about it.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” I forced a smile, partially due to the pain in my ankle and also because the subject of my father with someone besides my mother was uncharted territory. When Mac returned with my pills, Dad stood and gently excused himself.

  Sunday night, Mac’s ex dropped M.J. off so unceremoniously that I didn’t even see or hear her. In fact, I was in Mac’s bedroom grading papers when M.J. appeared in the doorway.

  “Hi,” he said, surveying me curiously. I was propped up on pillows in his father’s bed, and I shoved my own discomfort at the situation aside, so he wouldn’t feel weirded out.

  “Hey, M.J. Thanks for letting me crash at your house! It’s really hard for me to get up all those stairs in my building with my crutches.”

  “It’s cool,” he shrugged, taking a couple of steps into the room. “Do you think we could play a game tonight?”

  “Not tonight, kid. Shower and bed.” Mac interjected, walking past the room toward the washer and dryer. M.J. looked as if his father had just stomped on a baby bunny.

  “How about tomorrow?” I offered.

  “Alright,” Junior mumbled. “Can you read me a story before bed?”

  “How about we read one together?” I replied. I knew he was especially good with words, and though I had no problem reading to him, I wanted to push him a little.

  “Okay!” he said, smiling like I’d just suggested a midnight flight to Disneyland.

  Twenty minutes later, I hobbled down the hall and into his room. He was already under the blankets, and he had Peter Pan resting across his chest.

  “Alright,” I said, sitting down beside him on the bed and pulling my legs up so we were huddled side by side. “You read a page, and I’ll read a page. Sound good?

  He nodded with a little apprehension. “You go first.”

  By the time we neared the end of the second chapter, his eyelids looked a bit heavy. I glanced up and saw Mac hovering in the doorway. His forehead was wrinkled in a pensive expression, and I couldn’t tell if he was unhappy or angry with me.

  “That’s all for tonight, buddy,” I announced, tucking the bookmark into place.

  “Can we read more tomorrow?” He yawned and his tiny Mac-like face was drawn with exhaustion.

  “I think that can be arranged.” I ruffled his hair and moved to stand. Mac was beside me in an instant, offering support.

  “Can you tuck me in?” M.J.’s sleepy murmur was directed at his father.

  Mac folded Junior’s blanket around him like a burrito. “There. Snug as a bug in a rug in a hairy toaster.”

  I cocked an eyebrow and giggled. “What?”

  Mac shrugged. “Something my dad used to say.”

  “Night, Kelly. Night, Dad,” Junior said and closed his heavy eyelids.

  “Night, son. Love you.” Mac bent over and kissed Junior’s cheek, and smoothed his curls out of his face. They were such a sweet pair tha
t I had a lump in my throat as I watched them together.

  Mac knelt down, offering me a piggyback ride. Rather than argue with him in front of M.J., I hopped on and let him carry me down the hall and back into his bedroom. He deposited me onto his bed, and after zipping across the room to lock the door, he hopped onto the bed next to me covering my mouth with his. His lips were scorching; but he’d already branded my heart so the searing sensation seemed redundant.

  “Mac,” I scolded, pushing against his chest. The move felt completely unnatural and fruitless considering he was twice my size.

  “Hmmm?” He trailed kisses down my neck toward the spot where my neckline ended at my cleavage.

  “One of us is heading for the couch. Is it going to be you or me?” I gripped handfuls of his hair and pulled his face up so he could see my serious expression. I saw hunger there that I’d have loved to feed.

  “I said I’d sleep on the couch. I’m just not very sleepy yet.” He had the same puppy-dog look that M.J. had used on me earlier when he asked for a story.

  “Out!” I pointed toward the door, and Mac exhaled with desperate, yet knowing eyes.

  After three days of being at Mac’s, I packed up my stuff and went home. I knew he’d object, so I did it when he was still at work with the interns. He’d managed to persuade me to break my own rules, and I knew without a doubt that it would happen again.

  He’d cornered me in the kitchen after M.J. was asleep. I’d hopped in there to get a glass of water. Ice cubes had just sounded against the bottom of my glass, when I felt Mac press the length of his hard body against my back. I tried to whirl to face him.

  “Uh-uh.” He sounded feral as he pinned me to the refrigerator. It was such a commanding and masculine move, that I arched back into him on instinct. His hand slid up my side and came to rest possessively on my breast.

  “Ever play with ice?” he whispered against my ear, as he reached into my glass. The frigid cube moved across the thin material over my nipple, making me gasp. He kissed the back of my neck and his hands slipped up under my shirt, and it wasn’t long before he was carrying me into his bedroom. His lips claimed mine, smothering my moans with his masterful mouth. His taste was irresistible and, even though I knew it was a terrible idea, there was no way I could resist him.