Cassie held one hand to her hair, self-consciously tucking straying curls into the floppy bun piled on top of her head. Her other hand tugged at the large shirt, as if to pull it down past mid-thigh where it fell. Was it Devon’s?
The thought should have cooled Matt’s attraction. Instead, a corner of his mouth lifted in a roguish smile. He couldn’t help himself. She wore the just-stumbled-out-of-bed look very well. He’d never seen her more appealing.
“Good morning, Mrs. Webb.” He leaned a hand against the outside wall of her apartment and stared pointedly at her hair. “New style?”
“Yes, actually,” she said, not missing a beat even as a blush crept up her face. “What do you think? Will I scare the children at school?”
“No.” Her banter only heightened his desire. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch some of that tempting hair. “But the other secretaries and the teachers may be jealous that you can look so completely alluring only a minute after getting out of bed.”
“I don’t— Matt, you shouldn’t say things like that.” She crossed her arms again and looked down at her bare feet as the charming blush was replaced by obvious discomfort, reminding him of that day at the ice cream parlor. This time he was clearly out of line, and he knew it.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized as he turned away. Two steps down, he stopped and looked back up at her. “Actually, I’m not— sorry about complimenting you, that is. What I said is true. You’re a beautiful woman, Cassandra Webb, and I imagine it’s been a long time since a man has told you that. Be mad at me if you will for noticing, but it’s a truth I think you ought to hear once in a while.” He resumed his retreat before she could respond.
“Matt, I can’t let you fix the stairs,” she called down to him.
At least she let my behavior slide.
“I still haven’t paid you for the alternator,” Cassie continued. “And now all this wood—”
He remembered what he’d come up to tell her before his mind had been completely shut down by the sight of her in that t-shirt. He paused on the stairs. “I told Austin’s therapist we’re done.” Instead of looking up at Cassie again, he stared out at the yard where the boys were playing tag, like any other three boys— with normal lives— might. “You’ve helped Austin more in a few weeks than either therapist— here or in Oregon— has been able to do in months. Not only is that going to save me over five hundred bucks a month, but I’m getting my son back. So the way I see it, I’m in your debt. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to work.”
Before he reached the bottom, Matt heard the apartment door close. He hoped he hadn’t offended her or been too pushy. Cassie was plenty independent, and he didn’t want to take that away from her, but it also seemed she could do with someone to look out for her and lend a hand occasionally.
He spent the next twenty minutes helping the boys think they were helping him to unload the lumber from the truck. Even if he didn’t finish the entire project today, he figured the supplies would be safer here than driving around town in the back of his truck, where anyone could take them.
By the time the last board had been stacked, the smell of bacon wafted from Cassie’s apartment, and Matt was relieved to feel a desire for something other than her stirring in his gut. It had been a while since he and the boys had eaten anything besides cold cereal for breakfast, and he was sure that whatever she was cooking would be better than anything he attempted to make.
He had the second new riser, the one closest to the side of the barn, installed when Cassie called them in for breakfast. The boys bolted upstairs ahead of him. Matt followed at a slower pace, hoping his earlier words wouldn’t make things awkward between them.
The door to Cassie’s apartment was open, and her table for two had been pulled over in front of the love seat, so it was possible to seat four. Five, he amended, as she brought a stool from the bathroom. Matt noted with some regret that she’d changed into jeans and the shirt she usually wore when coaching and had tamed her hair into a braid.
“Noah, you stand on this.” Cassie wedged the stool between the two chairs. “And Asher and Austin will sit on either side of you. Matt and I will sit on the sofa.”
Apparently he needn’t have worried, if she felt comfortable enough to sit that close to him. She returned to the tiny kitchen on the opposite wall and brought over two steaming plates, one piled high with pancakes, and the other with strips of bacon. Matt’s mouth watered, and his stomach grumbled. He’d worked up more of an appetite than he realized.
“Can I use your bathroom to wash up?”
“Of course. You know which door.” Cassie set out plates and mismatched cups as he left the room.
He flipped the switch in the bathroom and found himself inside a room smaller than his closet. But it wasn’t the size, or lack of, that held his attention. Officer Devon Webb stared down at Matt from the upper corner of the mirror, a paper taped below him with the words, REMEMBER ME TODAY handwritten with bold marker.
As if Cassie needs a reminder. But the picture and words made Matt wonder if she ever did. Six years was a really long time, longer than the time she’d had with her husband at her side.
Does she ever wish that you had just died? Matt thought as he stared at the picture. And worse, Would I have chosen Jenna’s death, or would I have waited enough years, like Cassie, with the hope of her returning to me if I was patient enough? It was an idea he didn’t care to examine too closely. Of course had there been any chance at all to save Jenna, he would have wanted it, would have done anything no matter the expense or sacrifice or any of that, but could he have hung on the way Cassie had?
As Matt hurried to wash his hands, he had the uncomfortable feeling that he couldn’t.
“More syrup definitely made it onto the floor than into Asher’s mouth,” Matt said from his position under the table scrubbing the carpet.
“As long as I don’t stick to it when I’m barefoot, it’s fine.” Cassie worried she should have made more food as she carried the empty plates to the sink. Had Matt gotten enough to eat? It had been a long time since she’d fed a man; she was a little out of practice.
“I’m starting to wonder if something is wrong with him,” Matt said. “Asher’s far more clumsy than Austin ever was, and he can’t seem to get a fork or spoon straight into his mouth to save his life— or mine,” he added, then continued muttering as he picked pieces of pancake off the floor.
“Maybe there is something wrong.” Cassie crouched down to join Matt beneath the table. “Have you ever had his eyes checked?”
“No.” Matt raised his head, his mouth partly open, a definite light-bulb-moment expression on his face. “It could be his eyes. Jenna’s vision wasn’t great. She wore contacts. Asher is so much like her in every other way.”
“A lot of young children have poor vision.” Cassie used a napkin to blot up a spot of juice. “It even causes behavior problems sometimes. Last school year, we had two cases like that.”
“And you were the one who figured that out,” Matt guessed.
“I was,” Cassie said, remembering the sense of accomplishment she’d felt when both students had been able to get glasses and their behavior had improved dramatically afterward. It was one of those few times she felt she was actually doing something of real value that maybe another school secretary couldn’t or wouldn’t.
“Just like you figured out why Austin acted out at school last week.” Matt’s hair brushed the underside of the table as he looked up at her, his face just inches away.
A little thrill of excitement pulsed through her, at their proximity. It was different yet the same as she’d felt that night at the cafeteria when his hand had covered hers. Traitor, she silently scolded her racing heart and worked to keep her attention focused on their conversation.
“Most of the time children act out for a reason. A behavior is the symptom, but not the real problem.” This attraction I’m feeling to Matt is a real problem. “Often just l
istening and being observant will lead you to what the real issue is. In Austin’s case, it was very easy to realize what was going on. As soon as Mrs. Kendall said the incident had occurred while she was talking about Moms and Muffins, I had a pretty good idea what had upset Austin. And,” Cassie added, “he was willing to talk about it.” Austin has Matt’s eyes, she realized as his hazel ones locked on hers.
“He was willing to talk because he trusts you,” Matt said. “And now you’re his hero— and mine, too— because you were able to get him out of Mrs. Kendall’s class.”
Cassie’s sigh was about much more than the week’s events. “I wish I could get all of the kids out of Mrs. Kendall’s class, but clearly Austin had to be moved. I’m glad Principal Garrett was on our side.”
“Me, too,” Matt said. They picked flecks of pancake out of the carpet for another minute before he spoke again. “Who’s on your side, Cassie? Who is going to stand up for you and tell you it’s time you switched jobs? Time you start using your degree to help a lot more kids?” Matt picked up the last visible piece of pancake and backed out from under the table.
“Apparently you.” Cassie gave up on any more juice coming out of the carpet and stood, then held the napkin out for Matt to drop the crumbs into.
“You’re way overqualified for a school secretary.” After standing and ridding his hands of the breakfast debris, he wiped his palms on the front of his pants. “Seeing you in action, the way you explained things to Mr. Garrett, the way you understand kids… it seems a shame you aren’t doing that full time.”
“I like my job,” she said, feeling more guilty as charged than defensive. How many times had she thought the very same thing Matt was suggesting? “I like being close to Noah.”
“Think of the benefits you could give him if you were earning the salary you deserve.” Matt took the napkin from her and wadded it up in his hand. “I was paying a therapist $125 an hour for Austin’s sessions, and she wasn’t even any good. Think about the things Noah is going to need in the coming years. Most kids get braces these days, they play sports or have band instruments, they drive cars and go to college.”
“Whoa.” Cassie held her hands out. “He’s only in kindergarten, and that was hard enough for me. Please don’t send him off to college yet. Besides,” she said brightly, “long before then, Devon will be part of this equation. He’ll be here to help make all those things happen.”
Matt took a step closer to her. “Then think of Devon. Think about the things he might need when he comes home. Think about the years you’ll have to make up for, and the dreams you’ll have to pick up. How long is it going to be before you get that house you were saving for? What about taking Noah to Legoland as a family? What if Devon can’t work as he used to for a while? Those are all realities, Cassie.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All I’m saying is that you have a gift with children, and using it could not only help more kids, but it could help you and Noah as well.”
“Wow.” Cassie braced her hands on the back of a chair and leaned forward, not trusting herself to share her expression with Matt. His observations and analysis were spot on. And he thinks I have a gift. But it was the fact that he’d cared enough to share his opinion with her, to encourage her to revisit old dreams, that had her feeling emotional. She wasn’t used to having someone care so much, and she’d never had a man encourage her like this. Devon had never understood her passion for psychology. He’d never understood her need and desire to delve into other peoples’ problems and help them find solutions. Somehow Matt did.
“Those are some good things to think about,” she finally said when she trusted herself to both speak and look up at him. “I promise that I will.”
“Good.” Matt sounded relieved.
“Now will you consider allowing me to pay for the wood for my stairs that you’re fixing?”
“Hmm.” Matt’s mouth twisted in a pondering expression for all of two seconds. “Nope.” He held his hands out, palms up. “Fixing your stairs.” He dipped one palm down a few inches like a scale. “You fixing Austin.” His other hand dipped almost to the floor. “No comparison.”
“You might be exaggerating a bit,” Cassie called over her shoulder as she headed for the sink.
“Not in the least. You’re helping my son to be himself and happy again. Plus you’ve probably figured out Asher’s problem, too. I’m going to set up an eye appointment for next week.” Matt tossed the napkin in the trash, then sidestepped in front of her to reach the sink first. “I’m a lousy cook, but I can wash dishes.”
“I don’t think so.” Cassie joined him at the sink and tried to nudge him aside. “Go play with your power tools. I’ve got this.”
“Can’t do that.” Matt’s wide-legged stance didn’t budge. “I’m a modern man— multi-faceted, well-rounded. I can use a drill and dish soap.” Tipping a plate sideways, he started scraping leftover pancake into the sink.
“Wait— don’t.” Cassie put her hand over his to stop him.
Matt turned his head sideways and frowned at her. “Are you one of those women who takes issue with someone else in their kitchen?” He sounded amused. “I wouldn’t have guessed it of you, Mrs. Webb.”
Cassie pulled her hand away, though the damage had already been done. The brief touch and Matt’s teasing had sent her insides flip flopping again. She took a huge step back and held out her hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Have at it,” she said. “Wash every dish in the place if you’d like, and when you’re through”— she smiled sweetly— “you can dig out all of the food you put down the sink and fix the disposal that’s been broken for the past three years.”
“Your turn.” Cassie propped her chin on her hand and watched as Noah drew a card from the pile. A second later, his little nose wrinkled, and a fiendish smile emerged.
“Sor-ry,” he crooned, not acting sorry at all as he swiped her player from the board and set him back in home base.
“I’ll get you for that,” Cassie promised. She drew her own card as Noah suffered another fit of giggles. No other game got him laughing like this one. It was the reason she chose it every time it was her turn to choose. Well, that and the fact that it didn’t take forever to play, like Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders.
She moved a dismal three spaces and waited for Noah to go.
Devon was a big game player. Too big at times, though Cassie tried to forget those painful occasions and focus on the fun they used to have playing together and with friends. Their twice yearly trip to Tahoe had always been about more than the skiing or the lake. Some of her fondest memories were the times that six or eight of them gathered around a table in the lodge or on a blanket at the beach, where both the cards and the laughter flew. She and Devon had been nearly unbeatable at spades. They’d known how to read each other so well.
Maybe that was part of the reason she couldn’t give up on him now. He might not be able to speak to her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hearing her or that they couldn’t communicate, did it?
“Mom, Mom.” Noah tugged on her sleeve. “Your turn.”
“Sorry.” Cassie pulled her attention to the board. “Not that kind of sorry. Though—” She looked at the card she’d just drawn. “Actually, yes. That kind of sorry.” She slapped the card onto the discard pile and rubbed her hands together with mock glee. “Let’s see… who wants to go back home?”
“No one.” Noah’s giggles erupted once more.
After a quick scan of the board, Cassie realized that all of his players were either home already or in the safety zone.
“Noooo,” she wailed, then reached over to start tickling him. “You’re beating me again.”
Amidst their tickle war, during which the entire pile of remaining cards got knocked to the floor, Cassie’s phone started ringing. She ceased tickling Noah and got up to answer it as a flicker of hope sprang up in her chest.
I was just thinking about Devon. It was going to happen like this— a phone call on
e day, telling her he was awake. And this was an odd time of the afternoon for a call. She and Noah had only been home a half hour. She seldom received calls in the afternoon. She seldom received calls at all.
Their Tahoe friends and others had mostly faded into the background and out of the picture the past six years. She couldn’t blame them entirely, knowing it had to be uncomfortable at best, trying to figure out what to say and how to act around someone with a husband commonly known as a vegetable.
Cassie dug through her purse for the phone and felt her hope deflate at seeing Matt’s name instead of the care center. Today isn’t that day. She tried to mask her disappointment as she answered.
“Hi, Matt. What’s up?”
“Some creepy things. Up, down, all around. I need your help, Cassie.”
“I don’t kill spiders. You’re on your own there.” She went for lighthearted, as had become part of their unspoken friendship pact. When one of them was having a difficult day, it was the other’s job to raise spirits. So far it had worked pretty well, and she was happy to take her turn. He’d done so much for her lately.
“Asher got sent home from preschool today. He has lice.”
“Ohhhhh.” Eeeuuw. Her own scalp suddenly began to itch.
“They gave me a paper with all these instructions on how to get rid of them. I can’t send Asher back to school until they’re gone. And I’m pretty sure Austin has them, too.”
“Okay. Don’t panic,” Cassie said to herself as well as Matt. “I’ll go to the pharmacy and pick up what they need if you’ll send me a text with a picture of the note from school. Can you meet me at my mom’s in half an hour?”
“Your mom’s?” Matt sounded confused. “Does she have experience with head lice?”
“I don’t know, maybe,” Cassie said, her hand busily scratching at her hairline on the back of her neck. “But she has the tools for what your boys need to start with— haircuts.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Jensen,” Matt said as Austin, sporting a nice, new buzz, hopped down from the stool on Cassie’s mom’s small back porch.
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