The doorbell rang, echoing down the hallway. Ally wheeled the chair back from the desk.
“There’s someone at the front door,” she said. “It might be the postman with that parcel you’re waiting on. Give me a tick to check…”
She left the study, her bare feet padding softly on the wide, worn floorboards. She pulled the door open, expecting to see a blue uniform and a clipboard for her to sign. Instead, she found herself staring at a broad, muscular chest covered in a black cotton T-shirt.
“You’re back,” she said as she lifted her gaze to Tyler’s face.
“It’s a long story.” He offered her a tight smile, his silver-gray eyes unreadable. “Do you have a minute?”
“I do. At least, I will have. I’m just finishing up a Skype call. But I won’t be a sec.” She gestured for him to come inside, then hustled down the hallway. She was aware of him shutting the door and following her before she ducked into the study.
“Wendy, gotta go. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“All right, but don’t forget to give Mr. Whiskers his flea stuff. And he’s due for his worming tablet. You might have to hide it in his dinner to get him to eat it.”
“I can handle it, don’t worry,” Ally said. After three years of wrangling other people’s pets, she was an expert at stroking throats and hiding pills in food.
“Speak soon, okay?” she said.
She clicked the mouse to end the call and turned to find Tyler standing in the doorway, a slight frown on his face as he scanned the spines of the many accounting and finance manuals on her friend’s bookshelf.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
Tyler shifted his attention to her. “You’ve got a lot of business books for an advice columnist.”
She laughed. “They’re not mine. God, no. I can barely add two and two. They’re Wendy’s. I’m house-sitting for her while she’s away.”
“So this isn’t your place?”
“Nope.”
His frown deepened.
“Would you like a coffee?” she asked.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
She led him into the kitchen and filled the kettle at the sink. She hadn’t expected to see him again. Or at least not so soon. She told herself that was why she was feeling a little skittish and self-conscious.
“Did you see Bob this morning? How’s he doing?”
“He’s good. A little slow to shake off whatever they gave him last night, but otherwise he seemed okay.”
“Oh, good. Do you think he’ll be up for a visit again this afternoon?” She grabbed two mugs and opened the fridge, searching for the milk.
“Sure.”
She studied him over the open fridge door, noting the way he was standing so stiffly. Like a customer in a coffee shop. He’d indicated he wanted to talk, but she had the feeling that she might be waiting all day if she let him work his way around to the purpose of his visit.
She shut the fridge and regarded him frankly.
“Would it help any if I said that whatever it is, I’m happy to help?”
He looked a little taken aback for a moment. Then he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m that obvious, am I?”
“Let’s just say you should never play high-stakes poker.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Is it something to do with Bob? Please don’t tell me you want me to break it to him that his newspaper collection is gone.”
“Dad wants to come home.”
She swallowed as the implications inherent in that one small statement hit home.
“I told him I’d arrange things to make it happen, and I can sort out a nurse and someone to handle his meals and things from Melbourne. But the social worker wants to assess the house before she’ll agree to discharge him. I’ve got commitments I can’t get out of in town, so…” He pulled a key from the hip pocket of his jeans. “I wondered if you would mind letting her in so she can check the place out and give me her recommendations?”
Ally guessed from the mention of various support staff that Tyler did not plan on nursing his father himself. From what she’d seen of the distance between father and son, she wasn’t surprised. In fact, after what she’d seen in the parking lot yesterday, she was surprised Tyler was here at all.
“I can take care of that for you. Not a problem.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She held out her hand and he dropped the key into it. The brass was warm from his body and she closed her fingers around it. “Is that all? You don’t want to borrow money or ask me to perjure myself on your behalf or bury a body in my backyard?”
It took him a moment to understand she was joking.
“No.”
“The way you were looking, I was sure you were about to ask for a vital organ.”
“I guess you could say I’m not in the habit of asking favors,” he said slowly.
“No kidding. For future reference, I like your father, I’m here during the day and I’m happy to help out in any way I can. Okay?”
He nodded.
“Does that mean you’ll ask if there’s anything else you or Bob need?”
“Sure,” he said, although his posture and the tension in his face told her otherwise.
She shook her head. “Seriously. You should never play cards for money.”
His mouth kicked up at the corner. At last. A little more schtick and she might even squeeze a full smile out of him. Why that seemed so important all of a sudden she didn’t know, but it did.
“Milk? Sugar?” The kettle was boiling and she poured water into the coffee press.
“Black, thanks.”
“Ah, a purist.”
“More a pragmatist. The guys at work go through milk like it’s going out of fashion, so I figured life would be a lot less disappointing if I got used to having my coffee black.”
“That is very pragmatic of you. Me, I’d throw a hissy fit until they learned to leave some milk for the boss.”
“It’s kind of hard for anyone over six foot to pull off a hissy fit. In my experience, anyway.”
“True. I hadn’t thought of that.”
She slid his coffee across the counter toward him. Their fingers brushed briefly as the mug changed hands. She looked up—and got caught in the clear, bright silver of his eyes.
“Has anyone ever told you you have wolf’s eyes?” she said before she could stop herself.
He lifted his eyebrows. “Wolf’s eyes?”
“The color, I mean,” she said, feeling incredibly trans parent. “Obviously they’re not really hairy or any thing.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Can’t say that I’ve heard that before, no.”
“Well, now you know.”
“Yeah.”
His gaze dropped from her face to her chest, then her hips, taking in her Penelope Pitstop pajama pants and matching pink tank top.
“What happened to the cowboys and Indians?”
“Oh, they’re after-five wear only. I like to go a little more low-key during the day.”
“Ah.”
She looked at him over the rim of her mug and her eyes met his and suddenly it was last night all over again, the room crackling with tension and potential. Except this time he wasn’t here by accident, and she knew she would definitely be seeing him again.
“Cookies. We need cookies.” She crossed to the cupboard, making a big deal out of opening a package of cookies. She didn’t quite meet his eyes when she slid the container across the counter toward him.
“I’m good, thanks.”
She picked up the tea towel and wiped the counter.
It was just a look, Bishop. Get over it. Hot men have looked at you before. You’ll survive.
But none of them had been as…compelling as Tyler.
“Any idea when the hospital people might want to come by?” she asked.
They talked about the appointment and exchanged phone numbers, then Tyler checked his wat
ch and put down his mug.
“I need to go. I’ve got a client meeting I have to make this afternoon.”
She followed him to the front door.
“I should be here again by Monday at the latest,” he said.
“Okay. Like I said, call me if you need any thing.”
He raised his hand in farewell. She told herself to go inside but she remained in the doorway, watching his broad shoulders and firm, round backside as he walked away. He glanced over his shoulder as he passed through the gate, catching her watching him.
Again, their gazes locked and held for a long, sticky beat. Then he kept walking.
Okay, that’s going to be a problem.
Last night, the attraction she’d felt for Tyler had been a slightly titillating surprise—a diversion from the mundanity of life, an unexpected blip on her radar. They’d been ships passing in the night, the frisson between them a possibility that had come to nothing. Today…
Today the attraction between them seemed more complicated than titillating.
What’s the problem? Nothing is going to happen if you don’t want it to.
She knew it was true. And yet, somehow, it wasn’t as comforting a thought as it should be.
TYLER ARRIVED AT THE workshop in time to make his client meeting. Afterward, he went straight to his office and checked his schedule for the following week. His diary was full—client meetings, a marketing seminar, a catch-up with one of his major lumber suppliers. For the life of him he didn’t see how he could free up enough time to sort out his father’s situation. He had an elbow on his desk, his fingers kneading his forehead when Gabby rapped on the door and entered.
“You forgot these,” she said, holding up the rolled blueprints from their meeting.
“Thanks,” he said. “You were great in the meeting, too, by the way.”
She shrugged. “You’d be surprised how much I’ve picked up being around you guys. I think I could practically make a table myself now.”
She turned to leave. Tyler looked at the schedule he’d massacred with red pen and pencil strikes and arrows. He’d been trying to find a way to free up some time, hadn’t he?
“Gabby. Before you go.”
She gave him an inquiring look.
“How would you feel about taking on more client meetings? Stepping into sales more?”
She looked surprised. “What’s brought this on?”
“I need some time off. At least from the day-today stuff. I can take the briefs with me, keep working on the designs, but I can’t keep driving back and forth all the time.”
Gabby frowned, confused. “Sorry?”
Tyler realized he’d skipped an important beat.
“My father wants to be home to die. I told him I’d organize things so that could happen, but I need to be in Woodend to do that in the short-term—”
“Oh, Tyler. That’s so sad. I didn’t realize things were that serious. Are you okay?”
He shrugged. “Of course.”
“There’s no of course about it. He’s your father.”
Tyler made a pointless mark on the page in front of him. “In name only.”
Gabby shook her head. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
She rounded the desk and put her arms around him, resting her cheek against his. For a moment he was enveloped in her scent, still familiar despite the fact that it had been two years since they’d been lovers.
His thoughts shifted to Ally. He’d caught a trace of her scent when she’d brushed past him this morning. Vanilla and spice. Completely different from Gabby’s lemon freshness.
This wasn’t the first time his thoughts had drifted to his father’s next-door neighbor today. He’d thought about her on and off during the drive to Melbourne. The way her eyes lit when she laughed. The round fullness of her breasts. The look they’d shared when he’d glanced over his shoulder as he was leaving and caught her watching him.
“It’s not a crime to accept a little comfort, Tyler,” Gabby said as she stepped back from him.
“I don’t need comfort. I need time. Do you think you can do it or not?”
“I might have to juggle some of the admin stuff, but I don’t see why not. How many weeks do you need?”
“I only need a few days.”
Gabby looked stricken. “He’s that bad?”
“They don’t know. It could be weeks, it could be months.”
“Then maybe we should think more long-term than a week so—”
“I’m getting him a nurse. I just need some time to get things organized, that’s all.” How many times did he have to say this to people?
“You’re not staying with him yourself?” He could hear the censure in her tone.
“No.”
Gabby looked as though she wanted to say more, but after a long moment she simply nodded, her lips thin. “It’s your life, Tyler. Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it.”
“Thanks. I’ll draw up a list of appointments for you.”
She nodded, then exited his office.
He knew what she was thinking—that he was cold because he planned on hiring people to nurse his father in his final days.
Maybe he was cold. Why not? He’d been taught by a master. Why should he know the first thing about being kind when all he’d been fed as a child was intolerance, impatience and rage?
For the first time it occurred to him that there had been no judgment in Ally’s face or voice when he’d told her his plans this morning. She’d simply heard him out and offered her help.
She was an interesting woman. Generous, too—he’d been surprised when he’d learned she’d been living beside his father for only a few weeks. She’d been so fired up on his father’s behalf, he’d simply assumed their relationship was one of long standing.
He frowned as he registered what he was doing—thinking about his father’s neighbor again.
He couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Obviously he was attracted to her. But he wasn’t exactly in a position to get involved with anyone or anything right now. Thanks to his father, his cup was about to runneth over.
Which probably meant he should stop thinking about her. And that he should keep his distance when he returned to Woodend.
He returned his attention to his diary. Reality check—he didn’t have the time to be thinking about a woman. Even one as interesting and attractive as Ally Bishop.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SOCIAL WORKER CAME the following day. Ally showed the woman around Bob’s house, took note of her recommendations, then made a couple of quick phone calls before pulling Tyler’s business card from where she’d stuck it behind a magnet on the fridge door.
She ran her fingertips over the embossed lettering on the card, thinking about his silver-gray eyes and broad shoulders, then she punched his number into her phone.
“Tyler speaking.”
His voice sounded incredibly deep and low over the phone.
“It’s me, Ally. The social worker’s just been.”
“That was quick.”
“She said she didn’t want to hold things up at her end.”
A weary sigh came down the line. “Which means Dad’s probably been throwing his weight around again.”
“He seemed okay when I saw him this morning. I think he understands he can’t go home until the doctors are happy with his recovery from the surgery, so he’s been making an effort to eat more and he’s been paying attention to his physiotherapist.”
“Listen, thanks, Ally. I appreciate you helping out like this.”
Ally glanced down at the notes she’d taken. “I’ve got a list of her recommendations, if you want to hear them?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“She’s suggested safety rails at both the front and rear steps as well as in the shower. And she would like to see a handheld showerhead in the bathroom and a bath chair for your father to sit on if he’s feeling weak.”
“Okay.” He sounded a
s though he was making notes. “Anything else?”
“She said the bedroom doorways were wide enough to allow them to install a hospital bed, if one is required at a later date, but that Bob’s own bed would be fine for now.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to do the work yourself, being handy and everything, but she’s recommended a local guy and I took the liberty of making a quick call. He can take care of everything on Friday, if you want him to, or the following Monday.”
There was a short pause. “Friday, you said?”
“Yeah. He said he could fit you in in the afternoon. If it’s a problem for you to get here, I can let him into the house, since I’ve still got your spare key. It’s no big deal.”
There was another short silence. “That’s very generous of you.”
“It really isn’t. It’ll take two seconds to let him in. And you’ve got enough on your plate.”
She waited for him to tell her to butt out. Or to ask why she kept inserting herself into his and Bob’s lives. Usually she confined her do-gooding to her advice column, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to stop herself where Bob and Tyler were concerned.
“I read your column today,” Tyler said instead.
It was so not what she’d expected him to say that it took her a moment to respond. “Did you?”
“Yeah. The bit about the guy who dresses as a woman.”
“Right.”
“Turns out that all my staff read you, too.”
“That’s nice. I think. What did they say about the cross-dressing guy?” She could imagine the comments that must have been flying around. Especially in a very macho environment like a workshop.
“Turns out my senior cabinetmaker has a cousin who works as a drag queen.”
“Well, there you go.”
“You must get some pretty weird letters.”
“I get some very weird letters. But underneath the weirdness, it’s amazing how much the same we all are.”
“How so?” Tyler asked.
“Everyone wants to be accepted. Everyone wants to belong. Everyone wants to love and be loved. To feel valued.”
The Last Goodbye Page 6