"Our Hank has graciously offered to remodel the daycare center." Sharon's expression was a cross between gratitude and discovering she'd hit the lottery."Before it gets too busy here, he's volunteered to work a few Saturdays to build out the center," she crowed. "He's gonna build bookcases. And paint the walls and-"
"Easy, now." Hank's face heated with color. "It's not that big a deal. I like carpentry work. It's just a few book shelves. Maybe reconfigure the space a bit- "
"And new windows!" Sharon waved a jangling arm. "Our babies are gonna love it."
"That sounds wonderful." Annie noticed his smile widened. "New windows would do wonders for that space." She stepped through the doorway, conscious of an infant sleeping in a crib. Candace's little boy. Though she mostly kept to herself, the beautiful, young blonde had slowly begun warming to the rest of them. All the women at New Beginnings were protective. Skittish. Cautious. Their backgrounds—entirely different. But, their stories? Except for details, they were depressingly similar. But Candace was a special kind of guarded, she acknowledged as she smiled at the sleeping baby. Unlike Annie, Candace appeared free to come and go. Free to hold down a job. To earn a living, taking the necessary steps to eventually be able to leave New Beginnings. Soon—she would have to take that risk as well.
Annie let her gaze wander the space. If they walled off the unused back corner, they could create storage for all the nap mats and large toys. That would free up floor space for actual playing. The scent of bergamot wafted across her nose as her dream man joined her. She bit back a sigh, trying to remain focused. "Are you saying you could rearrange the space?"
"What did you have in mind?" The soft, rasping voice was like a caress.
"If you could steal that back corner-" It was the first time, she realized, trying not to startle. The first time there wasn't a stainless steel counter separating them. Her breath hitched. What a difference thirty-six inches made. He was tall—but, not too tall. His easy stance suggested protection. Sturdy dependability. Fighting the urge to accidentally brush his hand as she did each day at the coffee counter, she kept her gaze on the room. Tried not to wonder what it would feel like to press her lips to his tanned throat. What he would taste like. Sweat? Sunscreen? His addictive, citrusy cologne?
"Annie?"
Face heating, her dangerously foolish thoughts scattered. "If that corner could be straightened up—it would increase the floor space for playing. It's basically a pile of stuff we can't fit anywhere else."
Hank studied the area, his brain appearing to calculate the math. "That would free up-" He tiptoed past the sleeping infant, under the watchful glare of Miss Robin. Quietly sliding out his tape measure, he walked off the space. "Would this be enough?" He mouthed the words to her.
Annie nodded, a thrill trailing down her spine when he grinned. It would be perfect. He was perfect. That boyish smile. Magnetic, blue eyes-
Nudging her, Marisol's smile suggested her hectic, completely inappropriate thoughts were more visible than she realized. "Hank mentioned he's gotten to know your boys. He wants to make it easier for them to see out the windows."
"It's incredibly thoughtful of them to do this." She peeled her gaze from Hank's broad shoulders. His tapered waist. The lean, muscled build suggesting he still adhered to a military discipline to fitness. Hard work. An attitude that hinted at purpose. Determination that once he made up his mind about something, he'd find a way to do it. It was sexy as hell. Annie swallowed around the sudden dryness in her throat. Hank embodied all the things she—wasn't. Yet, she amended.
Under Robin's threatening gaze, he returned to the safety of the doorway—sleeping baby intact. "That would give us four feet for a closet. I could build shelves for the bigger toys. If those mats are rolled up, we could stand them up in the bottom of the closet."
"What kind of windows are you planning?" Annie was already envisioning it. Bright paint on the back wall. Bookshelves closing in a reading nook for the quieter kids. Cheerful kids' artwork on the walls. Maybe a mural. A place for the damaged, traumatized children who flowed through New Beginnings in an endless stream . . . to feel safe. To . . . imagine. Drift away with a book. Dream. Hope. Believe there'd be a better life waiting for them outside of New Beginnings' walls.
"We've got several bay windows in our inventory, left over from another job."
Hank's gravelly voice slid over her. Annie resisted closing her eyes. Resisted imagining. That voice. In the dark- She shook free of the notion. "That would be-" Her breath suddenly caught. "Could you-"
"Could I what?"
Everyone else faded away. Annie lifted her gaze to the beautiful, kind man standing before her. "Could you . . . put in a window seat?"
His bright, blue eyes seemed to light from within. "Exactly what I was planning," he admitted. "Maybe even two."
Annie forgot to be shy. "In the reading nook," she said. "I always wanted . . ." She stared at the ancient, clouded glass. "Down there . . ." She pointed. "Won't that window look out on the meditation garden?"
Hank studied her, not exactly in an uncomfortable way, but one that suggested he was picking up on her erratic thoughts. "I'd have to measure to be sure, but it will have at least a partial view. What did you have in mind?"
Summoning her courage, she smiled, no longer caring what she revealed of her hopeful, happy thoughts. "If you put a window seat there, we could fill it with cushions and pillows." She envisioned a comfortable, cheery spot. "A kid could sit there and read a book. Or . . ." She sighed. "Stare out at the garden. If we planted a few climbing vines outside the window . . . they would eventually frame in the view of the roses."
"You like flowers." His gruff voice slid over her.
"Doesn't everyone?" she deflected.
"I’m asking you," he persisted, his voice lowered for only her ears.
"I do," she admitted, her cheeks heating at his smile. "A window seat there would be like . . . a sanctuary. Even if it's noisy in the room . . . that spot would be quiet. With bookcases to close it in." She'd always loved the safety of a library. The quiet, beckoning stillness. Endless volumes of dreams contained on each shelf. Of knowledge. Encouragement. Escape. She sighed. "I love reading. That window seat would be my dream." She glanced up, startled to find all eyes on her. She shook off the reverie. "Not—not that I get to do much now . . . with two active boys."
Sharon finally joined them. "That sounds beautiful, Annie."
"If you're going to be working in here-" Schooling her expression, she met Hank's gaze. "Tommy and Jason will probably want to help you." Her lips twitched with a smile.
"I've never had a six-year-old helper," he admitted. Behind his friendly eyes, his brain appeared to be firing on all cylinders. "But—I think I could come up with plenty for them to do-"
"Really?"
"Nothing dangerous," he reassured. "No saws or sharp tools." He nodded, seeming to warm to the idea. "Heck, there'd be a ton of stuff I could have the kids do. If they want to help," he added.
Somehow, Annie had little trouble imagining Hank with two little helpers alongside him. And him being . . . okay with it. He'd be patient. Unflappable. He wouldn't get frustrated. He wouldn’t yell at them. Hank would likely be happy to teach them, rather than just keep them busy. Her heart clenched on a wish so strong it made her ache. How could she feel so certain about someone she'd only known a month? When she'd had seven years with Phil—and she hadn't known him at all.
"I have the perfect idea." Sharon clapped her hands. Then froze when Miss Robin glared her into silence. By mutual consent, the group backed into the hallway and closed the door.
"What's your idea?" The glint in Marisol's eyes suggested she was one step ahead in anticipating the perfect idea.
"Annie should help with this project." Mocha eyes strove for innocence, failing almost entirely. "Sugar? What do you think? Would you have time on Saturdays to help our Hank?"
Speechless for several seconds, Annie realized three things. First—Sharon was a
shameless matchmaker. Second—she'd offered Annie a legitimate reason for being at the shelter on a Saturday—without revealing her secret—because of course she'd be there on Saturdays. For as long as she was residing at New Beginnings. Third—her chest was about to burst with happiness. At the promise—of working side by side with the man she'd become utterly infatuated with. "I—I think that's a great idea. I'd love to help."
HANK WINCED AT THE resounding thump between his shoulder blades.
"Way to go," Jeff congratulated him. "Once you’re working with Annie, it’ll be easy to ask her out."
"Never hurts to have help," he admitted as they settled around the board room table. Especially since he was seriously out of practice. He couldn’t suppress his smile as he wandered back over their conversation. More full sentences had tumbled from Annie's mouth in the daycare center than he’d heard in a month of small talk over the coffee counter.
Up close, she was more petite than she appeared behind her counter. Prettier, too. Fathomless, brown eyes that revealed more than her words. Up close, her smile was damned near dazzling the handful of times he witnessed it. Up close, she smelled intoxicating—like vanilla and lavender. The scent had wafted from a soft, fragrant hollow at the base of her throat. A spot Hank imagined he could spend several days nuzzling. Up close, she had a freckle on her left cheek . . . dangerously close to kissable lips. Hell, he could spend quality time there, too. But—what had really set his pulse pounding was the way she looked at him. When she risked it—those honeyed eyes suggested she might just want him, too. His khakis uncomfortably tight, he was grateful for the board room table hiding the evidence.
The small conference room was being utilized as their site office until they could get the addition laid out and the dirt compacted. Space around New Beginnings was at a premium. As construction got underway, it would only get worse. "What time are you meeting with the ladies?"
Hank always made sure to clear out whenever Traynor scheduled a meeting with Miss Sharon and her decorating committee. Selection of finishes was not his strong suit. Nor was he a patient man when it came to dealing with an opinionated gaggle of women. Hours would drift away and instead of twenty decisions on carpet selection, tile color or trim stain—Jeffie would come away with two. If he was lucky. Hank didn't have that kind of time to waste. Better to leave it to the stud.
"T minus twenty-six minutes." Knowing exactly what he was thinking, the kid looked up from his meeting minutes with a smirk. "I may need you here today for-"
"Not happening," he warned. "I’m heading outside to talk with Lefty and his crew as soon as Miss Sharon walks through that door." When Traynor rose from the table, Hank knew where he was headed—no matter what excuse he’d likely come up with. "Say hello to Miss Ortega for me."
He hesitated. "I just need to . . . ask her a question about these minutes-"
"Uh-huh." Smiling, Hank sat back in his chair after Traynor left, his smile amused as he acknowledged his love-em'-and-leave-em' boss was rapidly losing ground to Miss Ortega. "Go get her, Jeffie." His thoughts turned to his own situation. Envisioning Annie's beautiful eyes, he couldn't shake the comforting sensation he experienced when she was near. After four long years without Gayle, that rightness said something. The desire for another woman—finally awakened. He couldn't dismiss his interest as merely attraction. He grimaced. "That would be easier." But, he hadn't waited four years just to find someone to sleep with. Meeting Annie had triggered something.
His pencil tapping the plans before him, Hank sank into his curiosity. Annie was beautiful. Friendly. Approachable—yet cautious. Those were easy. But—what about her that had flipped the long dormant switch? In a way no other woman had?
Aside from the growing desire to kiss her—what had he learned? The almost painfully shy woman was a toucher—or wanted to be. At least twice, he’d caught her fingers reaching for his. Until she contained the impulse. Something . . . or someone—had taught her caution.
When Annie forgot to be self-conscious, when she was immersed in something- Hank frowned at the memory. She'd been skittish. Almost wary as she'd approached the group. Until she'd impulsively opened up, revealing a tumble of thoughts she kept well-hidden behind those amber-flecked eyes. As though—she were a different person. Her eyes had held a dreamy quality when she talked about the meditation garden. A window seat to capture the beauty beyond the window. A wish she'd likely imagined for herself. Lost in her vision, she'd forgotten to be flustered. When the moment ended, Annie had seemed startled, her creamy skin flushing like the first summer peaches in the orchard.
A sucker for flowers. Window seats. And books. A mom to two rambunctious, inquisitive little boys. A job in the New Beginnings kitchen. Through Sharon’s extremely unsubtle efforts, he’d learned Annie was divorced. Had been that way for two years. Which meant Jason had been only two. Even younger when they'd separated. He tried to picture Annie, making the decision to end her marriage with an infant and toddler in tow. The desperation of her circumstances to be driven to that decision. He frowned, saddened by the knowledge. Little boys needed their dad. What had Annie’s husband done to throw it all away?
Chapter 4
Hank hesitated before entering the daycare later that afternoon. After two hours reviewing the delay to the schedule with the site guys, another hour on the phone with the city over why their permit was being delayed—and another hour haggling a change order with the concrete crew, Hank was grateful to revisit the daycare. Where a small group of short people would actually be happy to see him. Miss Robin's voice carried through the doorway.
"Okay, who wants to go next?"
A chorus of me's made him smile. Though Miss Robin wanted to project the image of a rigid disciplinarian, she was anything but. Under that stiff reserve beat a sentimental heart.
"Taylor-" Robin paused over the series of groans over not being selected. "Tell me what you love about your mom."
"She's real pretty . . . an' she smells good."
"Thank you, Taylor," Robin praised before scanning for the next eager hand. "Hector—what about you. What's your favorite thing about Mari?"
Hank frowned. Jeff had told him about Mari's issues in adopting Hector. Until his drug-addicted mother agreed to give him up, Marisol couldn't complete her adoption—despite caring for Hector for nearly three years.
"She gave me my own room . . . an' she makes me mac and cheese practically all the time."
"I love mac and cheese, too." Robin moved to his left. "How about you, Tommy? How about your mommy? Annie works here at New Beginnings."
Hank found himself leaning in to listen, surprised when Tommy mumbled. Annie appeared to be a wonderful mom to her boys.
"Okay—we'll come back to you." Robin's voice faltered. "Jason, honey? How about you?"
"Mommy hugs me real tight."
Hank smiled, hearing Jason's slurred words, imagining him speaking around his thumb. He suddenly had the urge to round the corner. Nodding to Miss Robin, he took a few steps into the room.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hank." A smile twitching her mouth, the graying woman shot him an expectant glance. "Mr. Hank, this is sharing time. We're talking about our mommies—and what we like best about them. Would you like to share?"
Hell—he'd walked straight into that one. His face heating, he met her amused gaze. "When I was your age-" He nodded to the dozen heads suddenly swiveling to look up at him. "My mom used to sing in our church choir. She had the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard—like hearing an angel. I could hear her all the way in the back."
"My mommy can't sing." Tommy's muttered voice reached him. "She can't do anything."
"Tommy, if you can't say something nice, you don't have to participate." Robin gently scolded.
"Mommy sings nice," Jason protested.
"Where's your mommy now, Mr. Hank?"
Wondering what was bothering Tommy, he offered a distracted smile to an adorable, red-haired girl, who up until now had been too afraid to speak t
o him. "Well, she's in heaven now. But . . . whenever I miss her, I imagine her singing in the choir with all the other angels." His mother and then his beautiful Gayle. Both lost to cancer. Over Tommy's head, Hank pointed to the corner and Miss Robin nodded. He nudged the little guy. "Come here. I wanted to talk with you."
"With me?" Tommy's eyes widened, reminding him of Annie. Expressive, brown eyes, shadowed by too many worries. "Really?"
Crossing the room, Hank led him to the clouded window. "I wanted to talk about a project I'm thinking of doing in here."
"What kinda project?" When Hank squatted down next to him, Tommy straightened up so they were eye to eye. "Maybe I could help?"
"Well, before I get to that, I wanted to see how you're doing." Reading the little boy's expression, he sensed he should tread cautiously. "Everything okay? How's school going?"
"It's . . . okay." He hesitated. "Kinda hard."
"Anything I can help with?" Uncertain why exactly, Hank felt a kinship with the little guy. Compared to his exuberant younger brother, Tommy seemed quiet. Almost resigned. He wondered whether his caution was natural or learned. With the long hours he spent at New Beginnings because of Annie's schedule, he was curious whether Tommy was accepting, or frustrated by it.
"I hate being the new kid. I hafta . . . eat lunch alone most 'a the time." His gaze dropped. "I never . . . it's hard to make friends. If Mommy would just-"
"Being new is hard," he acknowledged, pondering his incomplete thought. "I moved a few times when I was a kid. My dad switched jobs a lot."
"He did?" His freckled face lifted, reminding him of Bo waiting for a command. "How did you make friends? I have Hector here at the shelter, but his mommy takes him home every night."
Hank hesitated, unsure what Tommy meant. "I always tried to sit near someone at lunchtime. If there was another boy sitting—sort of alone, I'd sit next to him."
"What if he doesn't talk to me?"
"You talk to him." Recognition flared in Tommy's eyes. "Someone has to be brave. I think you're the guy to do it." He was rewarded with a smile. "Ask him what he's havin' for lunch. What his favorite part of school is." He read doubt in the little guy's eyes. "All it takes is one, TomTom."
Sheltering Annie Page 5