***
Rachel woke and blinked. Why did her eyes feel gritty? Then she remembered what had happened last night. Her house was a wreck, Toby had no clothes, and to top it all, she'd cried all over Ian.
With a groan she rubbed her face, wincing as her cheek stung. She probably looked as much a fright this morning as she had last night.
Despite that Ian had held her, comforted her, and been very kind. For a few glorious minutes, she'd let herself sink into the strength of his embrace. If only she really had a man like Ian to lean on occasionally, a kind, understanding man to share the ups and downs. Going it alone could be tough, not even having a partner to talk things over with when she needed reassurance.
But there was no way Ian Harper would consider a relationship with her. She'd thrown herself at him when she was young and embarrassed them both. Her cheeks still heated at the memory of how mortified she'd been the night he rejected her. She'd avoided him ever since.
With a sigh, she turned over to check on Toby, but the rest of the bed was empty. All thoughts of Ian fled as she sat up to scan the room. Toby wasn't there. He couldn't have gone far. She climbed from the bed and poked her head out the door into the hall.
Downstairs, she heard Ian talking to someone, then her son's laughter. Ian and Toby seemed to get along well. It was nice for her boy to spend time with him. He was reaching the age where he needed a male role model. She had tried so hard to persuade Greg to take an interest in Toby, with no success.
She grabbed her phone off the nightstand and checked the time. It was nearly ten. Ian probably wanted to get off to work and she needed to call the insurance company about her house.
Grabbing some clean clothes, she hurried to the bathroom and jumped in the shower for a couple of minutes, washing herself with Ian's shower gel. The tangy herbal fragrance brought a smile to her lips. Last night when she'd pressed her face against his chest, he'd smelled warm and herbal like this. A skitter of feeling raced along her nerves. Turning her face into the spray, she washed away any romantic thoughts. She'd chased Ian once and it had not turned out well. She wouldn't make a fool of herself a second time.
After a quick rubdown with the towel, she pulled a comb through her wet hair, dressed, and headed downstairs. She paused in the hall outside the kitchen door and peeped through the crack, listening to their conversation.
Toby sat at the kitchen table wearing jeans, a sweater, and some blue socks. Where had Ian found clothes to fit him? Toby dug a finger of toast in the top of a boiled egg and bit off the end. Jimbo, the teddy, sat on the table at his side, propped against a mug.
Toby pretended to feed Jimbo a bite. "Does Max like eggy soldiers?" he asked Ian.
"Max will eat anything, pal. He even eats the sheep's poop in the field if I don't watch him."
"Ewww." Toby pulled a face. "That's yucky."
Rachel put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Leave boys alone together for a while and they always managed to find something gross to talk about.
"Yep," Ian said. "Dogs eat lots of yucky things."
"Tell me some others," Toby said.
"Not while you're eating your breakfast, kiddo. It might put you off."
Unlikely, Rachel thought, putting her fingers against the door to widen the gap so she could see Ian. He sat at the table beside Toby, eating a slice of toast, a newspaper laid out in front of him. Shaggy dark hair hung over his forehead, his eyes a rich golden brown, eyes she'd mooned over for most of her teens. The dark stubble that had covered his jaw last night was gone, his face now smoothly shaved.
A tingle of awareness raced through her, a feeling she had almost forgotten. Even in his pilot's uniform, Greg had never made her go weak at the knees like Ian used to. Like he did still.
Max wandered over to Ian and snuffled his leg. With an affectionate smile, Ian slipped the dog a small piece of buttered toast and stroked the top of his head. "You really are a silly old thing, Max." The dog snuffled again and Ian shook his head. "No more or you'll get fat."
Rachel pushed open the door and walked in, trying to appear as though she'd just come downstairs. "Good morning." She went to Toby and kissed his forehead. "How are you, sweetie? Did you sleep okay?"
He nodded. "Look, Mummy, Ian made me eggy soldiers."
"Aren't you a lucky boy? I hope you said thank you."
"He did," Ian said with a smile.
"Looks like I need to thank you as well." Rachel gestured towards Toby's clothes, eyebrows raised. "Where did you find these?"
"The neighbors. I'm converting the barns we passed last night. I don't know if you noticed them in the storm. Anyway, the first one is occupied by a guy who works for me. James is married to Paula. They have a son about Toby's age. I walked that way when I took Max out this morning and borrowed a few things for Toby. The clothes seem to fit."
"They do. Thank you so much. I'll have to pop by and thank your friends later."
"Paula's in the office at the end of the house. She works for me. Just go outside and turn left. The office door's on the end. I converted what was the old milking parlor."
"Okay, thanks. I'll look in on her later."
"Have some breakfast, then I'll take you home to fetch your car."
"I'd better call the insurance company first."
While Ian dropped slices of bread in the toaster, Rachel ran upstairs, found her insurance documents, and dialed the claims number. She was on hold for twenty minutes, annoying music blaring in her ear, before she was put through. No doubt hundreds of people were phoning to report damage to their houses after the hurricane. Finally a woman answered and took down Rachel's details.
"Can you tell me if I'm covered for temporary accommodation while the house is being repaired? It's going to take a few months, I'd imagine," Rachel said.
"Once the claims adjuster has visited the insured property and filed his report, we'll arrange for a rental property of equivalent size to your home, if necessary."
"When will the adjuster get out to my place?"
"I'm afraid we're very busy at the moment. I don't think that's likely to happen until after Christmas."
"After Christmas! That's three weeks away. Where am I supposed to live until then?"
"Are you sure your home isn't habitable?"
"Absolutely."
"In situations like this, we usually advise people to find hotel accommodation. If we judge the house is uninhabitable, we'll refund the cost of the hotel when the claim is processed."
Rachel's heart thumped, her nerves strung tight. That didn't help her find money to pay the hotel bill now. She simply couldn't afford a hotel stay of three or four weeks with no guarantee she would get the money back. Insurance companies were notorious for wriggling out of paying people. They would probably turn around and say she could have camped in her lounge or something stupid.
She ended the call and ran a hand back through her hair, shaking out the long strands to help them dry before she went outside in the chilly wind. Maybe she could stay here with Ian, but that was a terrible imposition. He'd been kind enough to rescue her and bring her home last night. She hated to ask him for extra help.
Rachel trudged downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. Toby had finished his breakfast and was sitting in the dog's bed in front of the range, running a brush over Max's coat.
Ian dropped some toast on a plate and put it in front of her. "What did they say?"
She might as well tell him the truth. No point in beating about the bush. "They won't pay for me to rent a place until the claims adjuster has been out. That won't happen until after Christmas. I'm effectively homeless until then."
Ian rubbed a hand across his mouth, his gaze on the floor. "Look, you can stay here if you like. I know it's not ideal. It's a bit of a trek to get anywhere, but once you have your car you can drive to work or into town so you're not stuck out in the middle of nowhere."
Rachel's heart leaped with relief. "Are you sure?"
"Of cours
e, or I wouldn't have offered."
"Oh, Ian. Thank you." She bounded up, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. "You're wonderful!"
If she hadn't already ruined her chances with Ian, she would find it very easy to fall in love with him again.
Chapter Four
The delicious smell of cooking welcomed Ian as he pushed open his back door and stepped out of the cold into his cozy kitchen. Rachel worked at the range, stirring something in a saucepan while another pan steamed, creating the mouth-watering smell.
Toby kneeled on a chair at the table, a rainbow of crayons scattered before him. He poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he drew on a pad of paper. Max had stayed at home with them today. The old dog had taken to Toby. He sat beside the table, staring up at the boy with adoring dark eyes.
Ian wasn't used to coming home to a scene of domestic bliss. Even when Jane lived here with Ella, she never managed to create this welcoming atmosphere. The tight knot of pain and frustration that ached in his chest every time he thought of Ella loosened a little and a smile stretched his lips.
Maybe the way to cope with the emotional turmoil his ex and her husband put him through was to claim a future. Just because he had a daughter didn't mean he couldn't have a relationship again. Having someone in his life who loved him and cared for him might help him deal with the hurt. He realized he'd been living in an emotional vacuum, not letting anyone in.
Max finally noticed him and lumbered over, tail wagging.
"Hello, you silly old thing. Have you had a good day?" Ian stooped and stroked his dog's head, smoothing the fur around his ears.
Rachel turned, a bright smile on her face, her shiny dark hair high on the back of her head in a ponytail—the way she used to wear it all those years ago.
"Hi, Ian. I'm making spaghetti Bolognese. I found the ingredients in your freezer and cupboards. I hope it was all right to use them."
Ian grinned. "Darling, if you want to cook for me, you can raid my pantry anytime. I normally survive on toast and takeout. Home-cooked food is a luxury."
Toby hopped down from his chair and grabbed Ian's hand. "Come and look at my drawing."
"Hang on a minute, pal. I need to take off my boots." Ian unlaced his work boots, levered them off, then padded to the utility room in his socks and put the boots on the plastic mat he kept for the purpose. The sound of the dryer caught his attention. Lots of small boys' clothes went around and around behind the glass window.
"You been shopping?" he asked, raising his voice so Rachel could hear him over the noise.
She appeared in the doorway. "No. Your guys rescued Toby's clothes from the broken chest of drawers. They were fantastic. They've packed up the contents of my kitchen and brought over other stuff I wanted as well. The boxes are stored in the room off your office. I hope that's okay. Paula said you wouldn't mind."
"That's fine." His men had done what he instructed, although he wasn't about to tell Rachel they were just following orders. That would sound like he was seeking praise.
Toby waited for him, hopping from foot to foot in his excitement. He grabbed Ian's hand and towed him towards the table. He climbed on his chair, beaming with pride. "Look. I've drawn Max. Isn't it good?"
"Very good." He glanced at Rachel and they shared a smile. Little children were so refreshingly honest—no false modesty. It was a shame life knocked that out of them. "I guess you've inherited your mum's artistic talent. She used to draw wonderful pictures."
He hadn't thought of Rachel's drawings for years. From her wide-eyed look of surprise, she was amazed he remembered.
Toby frowned. "Mummy doesn't draw."
"She used to. Horses were her favorite subjects."
Toby turned a thoughtful look on his mother. "Will you draw me a horse, Mummy?"
"Gosh. I don't know if I can. I haven't drawn for years."
She shrugged in answer to Ian's questioning glance. "You know what life's like. One gets caught up trying to earn a living and things like this fall by the wayside."
"I thought art would be your living. What happened to stop you from drawing?"
Rachel glanced meaningfully at Toby. "Other priorities."
"Come on, Mummy. Please draw me a horse."
"I'm cooking dinner, Toby. Maybe later."
Suddenly Ian wanted to know exactly what had happened to Rachel since he last saw her. She'd been eighteen and heading to art college. As far as he knew, she'd finished her course. So, who had screwed up her life, because it certainly wasn't Toby? He'd put his money on Toby's father. But now wasn't the time to start questioning her.
"I can watch the stove for a little while. You draw your son a horse." He took the stirring spoon from her hand.
Rachel blinked her huge blue eyes at him in that innocent way he used to think was put on to make her look cute and vulnerable. Now he realized she was simply uncertain.
He rested a hand on her back and smiled. "Go on, Rach. Give it a try."
She sat down, took a piece of paper from Toby's pad, and sharpened a pencil. Toby kneeled beside her on his chair, bouncing with expectation.
Ian kept half an eye on the pasta and sauce, his attention mostly on Rachel. She bit her lip then sketched a line, quickly followed by a few more. He'd watched her draw many times. The process never failed to fascinate him.
To start with, the pencil marks looked like a random assortment of lines. As she continued, everything came together, a recognizable shape emerging from the muddle as if by magic. He had no idea how she did it. But she was darn good at drawing.
"You've still got it," he said as a rearing horse appeared on the page.
"Wow, Mummy." Toby held the drawing up, his eyes like saucers. "I never knew you could do stuff like this."
"This is the first picture I've drawn since you were born," she said, her tone wistful.
"You must draw some more." Toby ripped another sheet of paper from his pad and shoved it in front of her.
"He's right," Ian said.
Rachel laughed and stood up. "Not now. I have a dinner to serve, a dinner that smells like it's burning."
"Oh, sh…sugar." Ian dragged the pan of sauce off the heat. He'd completely forgotten to stir it while he watched Rachel. She did that to him, he remembered, mesmerized him. He could lose himself watching the expressions flit across her face, her grin, the sparkle of enthusiasm for life in her eyes. Although he hadn't seen much of that sparkle since she'd moved into his house. Somewhere along the line she'd lost that.
He fetched bowls from the cupboard and passed silverware to Toby to set the table. Then he grated cheese while Rachel served up the pasta and added a generous dollop of meaty sauce to each bowl.
Ian was enjoying himself more than usual. Even Max seemed to have more energy. Instead of lying in his bed looking bored, the dog sat by the table watching the goings-on, nipping in between their legs to lick up some cheese crumbs that hit the floor.
They sat around the table, eating and chatting. Rachel repeated how wonderful his crew was to have rescued Toby's clothes. "So I won't have to buy any more after all," she said with a sigh of relief.
Was she short of money? It hadn't occurred to him that Jeff Carne's daughter might be hard up. He'd have to bear that in mind and make sure she didn't have unnecessary expenditures while she stayed with him. How things had changed. Once he'd been the pauper; now money was the one thing he had plenty of.
"Do you mind if I put up some Christmas decorations this weekend," she asked. "I had promised Toby we would."
"I don't have any, but we can buy some." Ian hadn't celebrated Christmas since Jane and Ella moved out of Meadow Sweet Farm. He hadn't planned to this year, either. As usual, Jane and her jerk of a husband would probably keep him from seeing Ella at Christmas, but at least the thought of spending Christmas with Toby and Rachel gave him something to look forward to.
"I've got decorations. Your guys rescued them from my closet this morning. They're in your storeroom
with my other stuff."
"We can cut a tree from the little copse between the fields. There are plenty of pines out there."
"Thank you, Ian. I'll cook you a lovely Christmas dinner to pay you back for all you've done for us."
Rachel gripped his hand, her fingers slender and feminine against his larger fist. He turned his hand, capturing hers and squeezing. Already he knew he would miss her and Toby when they moved out.
***
Rachel sang as she drove to work, heading along the motorway towards the airport. She joined the line of traffic crawling towards the car park, but even the usual traffic jam didn't dampen her spirits. Crazy as it seemed, she felt happier today than she had in ages, even though her house was half fallen down and she was staying with Ian.
In fact, her good mood was because she was staying with Ian. A warm, welcoming atmosphere filled his house, with its lovely cozy kitchen and the pretty bedroom. He smiled at her and asked her how she felt as if he really cared. She was so used to living with a man who thought only of himself, it was a revelation.
She swung her car into the multistory car park, found a space, and cut her engine. The clock said she had twenty minutes until her shift started. Still humming, she locked her vehicle and crossed the road to the terminal building, heading for her airline's office.
"Morning," she said as she pushed through the door, the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee greeting her.
She examined the schedule to find out which flights she was assigned to, and frowned when she didn't see her name on the list. Foreboding whispered through her. There was something wrong here.
"Excuse me, Natasha." Rachel caught the shift supervisor's eye. "I'm not listed on the schedule."
"You didn't get the e-mail from Personnel?"
Rachel's chest tightened, her pulse rate increasing.
"No. I haven't had access to a computer for a few days." She never bothered to check e-mails on her phone. There was a glitch and only half of them showed up.
A Christmas Family Wish Page 3