by Amy Andrews
‘The last guy who offered me a roof over my head felt that there should be some kind of arrangement attached.’
‘I am not the last guy.’ His voice was low and tight, his knuckles white around the beer bottle. ‘I’m not that kind of guy at all. Frankly I find the idea of bribing a homeless, single mother into my bed completely abhorrent. I’m sorry that there are douchebags like that out there but that is not me.’
His quick, angry admonishment of the Todds of the world was just about the sexiest thing Trinity had ever heard and it did funny things to her pulse.
‘There is absolutely no agenda here. It’s a no-strings-attached deal.’
Trinity couldn’t believe it was that easy. ‘You must want something in return?’
He shrugged, the whiteness of his knuckles dissipating, the tension in his shoulders melting away. ‘I can’t deny having a presence in the house for Pops when I’m not here would be advantageous.’
Trinity frowned. ‘So you want me to look out for him. Or like...be his carer?’ She needed to get a job while Oscar was at school; she wouldn’t have time to babysit. ‘I don’t have any qualifications.’
‘No, I don’t mean anything like that,’ he assured her. ‘Although if you’ve raised a kid then you’re probably more than qualified to deal with a slightly forgetful, sometimes naughty, definitely cheeky eighty-year-old.’
Trinity laughed then stopped, surprised by the sound in the midst of such a serious conversation. Surprised she could even laugh at all in her predicament. But Reid’s description of Eddie was so damn apt.
‘I know you’re finding this all a little too good to be true and you’re probably not used to relying on anyone but sometimes good things do happen to good people, Trinity. Maybe it’s time you allowed somebody to help you. Aren’t you tired of constantly worrying about how you’re going to make ends meet?’
Trinity was so damn tired. The fact he knew that made her want to burst into tears. But damned if she was going there again. She hadn’t survived this long by crying at every hurdle life had thrown her.
‘Trust me.’ He smiled, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. ‘I’m a doctor.’
His smile wove its way around her ovaries and squeezed. But he had put her dilemma front and centre again. He was a doctor. ‘What if I say no?’
He gave a half-laugh. ‘It’s a free world. I’m not going to force you to live all safe and sound in this beautiful house, Trinity.’ He smiled the kind of smile that told her she’d be nuts to turn this down.
But that wasn’t what she was asking.
‘And there won’t be any...repercussions?’
‘Repercussions?’ He frowned.
She decided to put her worst fear out there. She didn’t want to be looking over her shoulder all the time. Living life looking forward was hard enough. If he was going to dob her in, she’d appreciate a heads-up.
‘You’re a doctor,’ she said, stripping her voice of any emotion that might betray how desperately worried she was. ‘It’s your mandatory duty to report incidences of child abuse and neglect to the relevant authorities.’
The light slowly dawned in his eyes. He shook his head slowly, his gaze seeking hers and holding it again. ‘You don’t need to worry about that. I see no evidence of abuse or neglect.’
Trinity blinked back a spurt of unexpected tears at his quiet conviction. For God’s sake—what the hell was with wanting to cry every ten seconds around the man? ‘I can’t even give him a roof over his head,’ she whispered.
‘You can now.’
Yes. Maybe. Not her roof but a roof nonetheless. If she had the courage to take a risk.
‘Say yes, Trinity. Stay here with me and Pops. For as long as you like. Get back on your feet.’
Her brain turned his proposition over and over. On the surface it was a dream come true. She could have a base. A permanent base she could depend on. A chance to forget about her troubles and worries and save some money. Actually make plans for the future. Get back on her feet as he’d said.
But then there was the attraction she felt for Reid. That could complicate the hell out of things. It could potentially screw everything up. If she let it.
If she indulged it.
Which was stupid and fanciful. Why would someone like Reid be remotely interested in her?
Oscar chose that moment to wander into the kitchen, carrying an uncomplaining Ginger, who almost dwarfed him, the top half of her body clutched to his chest, the bottom half dangling down.
‘Mummy, Ginger purrs so loudly,’ he said, beaming at her.
A huge lump lodged in Trinity’s throat as Oscar sidled up to her. He leaned his skinny frame against her thigh and rubbed his face on top of Ginger’s head.
‘Okay,’ she said quietly, glancing at Reid. Even just saying the word felt good. As if all the weight had magically disappeared from her shoulders. For now anyway. ‘Just for a short while though.’
Christmas was a couple of months away—being in her own place by then seemed like a worthy goal.
He nodded. ‘Stay as long as you need.’
* * *
If Reid thought he was going to see a different side to Trinity once she’d agreed to his offer, he was wrong. She might have said yes but it was probably the most reluctant yes on record and she was clearly still not comfortable with the deal.
At dinner she’d tried to talk to him about making a monetary contribution towards their food and board, which he’d dismissed outright, and then she’d tried to make a bargain with him about taking over the cooking from now on so she was at least doing something to contribute. But Reid had shooed her out of the kitchen.
After years of army rations he enjoyed eating home-made meals and found cooking therapeutic. He’d told her she could sit and watch with a glass of wine if she wanted but she’d declined politely, a pleasant smile fixed to her face.
Which had been pretty much par for the course today. She’d been polite and pleasant all day but there was a coolness to it, a reserve, that kept him at a distance.
As far as he was concerned anyway.
It melted away with Oscar. Hell, even with his grandfather she was more at ease. But with him, she was cool and polite.
Not that it surprised him. He didn’t know how long Trinity had been doing it tough but long enough to have built a shell of wariness around her. And he knew that time was the only antidote. It was obviously going to take her a while to trust him. She needed time to get to know him. To believe that he meant what he said. No funny business. No strings.
I’m not going to sleep with you.
It had been shocking to hear her say it. To realise that a part of her actually believed he had an ulterior motive for inviting her into his home. A sexual one. It’d made him so angry he’d wanted to smash the kitchen bench top in two.
He didn’t know who the guy was that had put the hard word on her but it disgusted Reid. He felt insulted on behalf of his entire gender that there were douchebags like that out in the world harassing vulnerable women.
They gave men a bad name.
The thought that he’d take advantage of her situation was sickening. Sure, Trinity had fight and spunk, two attributes he found sexier than a great rack or an awesome booty. But he could see beyond her prickly, standoffish, tough-as-nails exterior to the frightened, vulnerable woman underneath and all he really wanted to do was protect her.
It was what he’d done most of his life and he couldn’t switch that off because he no longer wore a set of khakis. There’d been so many women and children he hadn’t been able to help, but he could protect Trinity and Oscar.
* * *
He went in search of her after dinner. She’d told him she was going to put Oscar to bed and he’d assumed she’d come back down and sit with him and Pops for a while—if
only out of politeness. But it had been over an hour and she still hadn’t showed.
He was worried she was hiding away and he needed her to know that she and Oscar had the entire run of the house. That she didn’t have to sit up in her room like some frightened little mouse. That they had several televisions in the house plus a range of DVDs or she could use his computer.
He stopped at the room where he’d dumped Oscar’s bag earlier this afternoon but it was empty. In fact it didn’t look as if it had been touched. The door was open. There was no rumpled bedspread. No open cupboard doors. No discarded clothes or shoes.
Reid frowned as he moved to the next room along, which he’d given to Trinity because it had an en-suite. If he hadn’t been very much mistaken, she’d blinked back tears when she saw it and it had made him happy to throw some luxury her way.
The door was shut. If a closed door wasn’t a big old ‘keep out’ message nothing was. He hesitated for a moment, prevaricating about whether to knock. The last thing he wanted was to encroach on her privacy. And maybe she was asleep.
At eight o’clock at night...
The strip of light at the bottom of the door told him the light was at least on. So maybe she was lying awake staring at four walls worrying about things she didn’t have to worry about.
Reid gave himself a mental shake. He was dithering. Reid Hamilton did not dither. He was a surgeon, for crying out loud.
Or used to be anyway.
He knocked gently. Low enough to be heard but hopefully not wake her if she was asleep. There was silence for a moment, then a quiet, ‘Come in,’ that sounded wary and tight even through the barrier of the door.
He opened it to find a sleeping Oscar tucked up in bed beside his mother, his fine white-blond hair and the pale wedge of his cheekbone a contrast to the crimson pillowcase. A mangy-looking stuffed rabbit tucked in with him.
A surge of pride filled his chest knowing that the kid would be sleeping safe from now on. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, her voice low, her hand sliding protectively onto her son’s back. ‘He sleeps like a rock.’
Reid envied the kid that. He slept lightly and dreamed too much.
Trinity was chewing on her bottom lip, regarding him with a solemn gaze. Her hair was wet, or rather it had been. It was half dry now with dozens of dark, fluffy, flyaway strands, which made her look about eighteen and not the thirty he’d originally pegged her as.
Just how old was she?
She was wearing some kind of sloppy V-necked T-shirt that dwarfed her shape and fell off her right shoulder. He noted absently there was a hole in her sleeve as his gaze was drawn to the exposed flesh. Her skin was pale, and the hollow between her collarbone and the slope where neck met shoulder was pronounced.
He loved that dip. Hell, he loved all the dips and hollows on a woman’s body.
Suddenly it was gone as she yanked the sleeve up. Reid blinked at the action and the direction of his thoughts. Bloody hell. What was he thinking? He dragged his gaze back to her face but she wasn’t looking at him; her eyes were planted firmly downwards on a book she’d obviously been reading.
Good one, man.
‘I...just came to check everything’s okay.’
‘It is.’ Cool and pleasant replaced by stiff and formal.
He glanced at Oscar again. ‘You know, you guys don’t have to share the same room. There’s enough for one each.’
‘I know. It’s what we’re used to. We don’t mind.’
Reid nodded. He hoped she’d start to feel comfortable enough to open up to him about her past. To let the apron strings out a little on Oscar.
‘Okay. Well... I also wanted you to know that you don’t have to hide away up here. Pops and I usually watch some television together each night. We have three TVs and subscribe to a couple of streaming services so there’s something for everyone. I also have a stack of DVDs if you’d prefer and you’re more than welcome to use the computer if you want to go online for any reason.’
She’d slowly shrunk back into the bed head as he spoke, clearly overwhelmed. Reid rubbed his forehead. ‘What I’m trying to say is that you have the run of the house. Help yourself to whatever you want, whenever you want. Mi casa es su casa. Okay?’
She nodded. ‘Okay.’
But she didn’t look convinced.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘MI CASA ES su casa.’
Trinity turned the expression over and over in her head during the course of the weekend. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the camera crew to pop out from a cupboard and tell her she’d been punked.
Reid’s offer had been outstandingly generous and she understood that he wanted her to feel comfortable in his house, but that was going to take a little while. Who knew the luxuries of a fridge full of food and a pillow top mattress would be so difficult to adjust to?
But the street kid in Trinity was never far away. That person had been baptised in the ill will people wrought, not their generosity. She desperately wanted to be able to take a breath and relax but she didn’t want to get too used to going to sleep with a full belly and waking up without a sore back in case it all came crashing down.
Two months. That was all she needed. Reid was making it possible for them to have a place of their own by Christmas.
But even if it only was for a few days it was worth it for how happy Oscar was. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d walked into Reid’s house and Trinity swore he actually had some colour back in his cheeks.
For however long it lasted, she was glad that Oscar could have this bright interlude in his otherwise grey existence. They were used to doing it tough and they would again if this bubble burst tomorrow but, for now, it was a little bit of magic she couldn’t deny him.
Or herself.
Like her and Oscar and Eddie heading over the road to the pond the last two mornings to feed the ducks. The rest of the weekend filled up with the cricket. And, right now, it was a spot of soccer.
The afternoon shadows were growing long across the back yard as she sat on the porch swaying gently in Eddie’s old white wrought-iron love seat, watching him kick a ball to Oscar.
It was surreal and she had to pinch herself.
The old man was good with Oscar. Infinitely patient and encouraging and Trinity had watched Oscar’s confidence in himself grow in just three days. Oscar hadn’t had any male role models and, in Eddie, she couldn’t have picked a better one for her son.
A foot fall behind her raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Quickened her pulse.
Reid.
Living on the streets had heightened Trinity’s senses to danger. But this was different. Her heart didn’t beat faster from fear of being threatened or harmed, it was from...awareness.
A sexual one. A primal one. An acknowledgement deep in her cells of a man.
She hadn’t seen a lot of him over the weekend and it’d lulled her into a false sense of security. He’d worked Saturday morning then spent a couple of hours watching cricket with his grandfather and Oscar before disappearing into the room with the computer that Eddie called the office.
This morning he’d done a bunch of yard work. With his shirt off. His tattoos did indeed extend further than his arms. In fact his entire back was inked from the wings that stretched across his shoulder blades to the barbed wire in the small of his back.
The real estate between the meaty slabs of his pecs and his collarbones was also decorated but the rest of his torso was ink free. Who needed ink when there were flat, bronzed abs on display? And a tantalising trail of hair arrowing south of his belly button?
Trinity had tried very hard not to look at that trail and where it went. She’d mostly succeeded.
After lunch he’d gone next door and done their yard work
too, also sans shirt. What the elderly couple who had apparently been Eddie’s neighbours for thirty years thought of Reid’s big, bare-chested, tattoo-riddled frame she had no idea but, according to Eddie, Reid had been helping them out since he’d moved back in.
A frosty bottle appeared in front of her and she started even though her street-kid senses had tracked every millimetre of his progress towards her. ‘Beer?’
Trinity shook her head as Reid—smelling freshly showered, and clad in a T-shirt and denim cut-offs—stepped around her and plonked himself down on the other end of the love seat. She tensed as it rocked and protested under his weight, the steady rhythm disrupted. It didn’t feel right to be sitting so close to him. Sure, a whole other person could fit between them but she was excruciatingly aware of the type of chair they were sitting on.
‘Come on,’ he said, waggling it at her. ‘You don’t want me to drink alone, do you?’
She quirked an eyebrow. ‘That hasn’t stopped you the last couple of nights.’
Too late, Trinity realised what she’d said and clapped a hand across her mouth. How many beers he drank and who he drank them with was none of her business.
Reid threw back his head and laughed and her gaze was drawn to his neck again as fantasies about trailing kisses up it slammed into her.
Mortified—about what she’d said and her neck fixation—she took the beer, the seat falling back into a steady rhythm again as he rocked it back and forth with his feet.
‘Oscar’s excited about going to school tomorrow.’
‘That’s an understatement.’ Trinity was grateful that schools took four intakes a year these days. Making Oscar wait to the start of next year would have been unbearable.
‘It’ll be good for him to make some friends his own age.’
Trinity stiffened. ‘Yes.’ She hoped Reid was talking about the unlikely friendship playing out in front of them between Eddie and Oscar and not making other judgements. He might not have any friends his own age but he was remarkably well adjusted for a kid who’d spent half his life in hospital.