“Northbridge guys,” Kira finished for him.
“Right.”
“And you always only play each other?”
“Most of the time. Every now and then some of the college guys or some of the high-school kids will get together and challenge us to a game. There aren’t enough of them at either place to have their own official teams, but they try to give us a run for our money once in a while. For the most part, though, yes, we just compete against each other. Like I said, it’s only for fun and exercise.”
Maybe that was what kept him in such good shape, Kira thought, sneaking a peek at him as she clicked Mandy’s seat belt into place.
He’d put on a pair of less-faded jeans and a white Henley T-shirt that hugged every muscle of his honed chest, his broad shoulders, his hard biceps. He was clean shaven and smelled heavenly, and Kira knew she was way too happy to be leaving housework behind in favor of spending the evening with him. But she was trying not to dwell on it. Trying to tell herself that there was nothing more to it than a group outing.
“The college must be really small if there aren’t sports teams,” she said when she realized that silence had fallen while she’d been surreptitiously ogling him.
Cutty didn’t seem to have noticed. “Very small. They only have about two hundred students at any given time.”
“That’s tiny.”
“It’s a private college that was founded mainly for people out here in the sticks. First priority for acceptance is given to people who live in the small, rural communities.”
With the twins all strapped in, Cutty limped to the driver’s side while Kira got into the passenger’s seat. Even though she’d ventured out to the two boutiques on Main Street that afternoon, she still hadn’t seen much of Northbridge so Cutty had offered to give her the nickel tour before going to the game.
Once they were on their way he began at the end of Main Street where Kira had stopped at the gas station for directions the evening she’d arrived.
As he drove, Cutty pointed out what was what and added a few anecdotes along the way.
Kira listened and took in the sights of the small town.
Most of the buildings on Main Street were built in the early 1900s. Two and three stories tall, they were lined up without any space between them, and with more attention paid to their brick facades than to what was behind those facades.
There was an overhang of some sort from above the first level of almost all the shops, stores and businesses the buildings housed, some with permanent roofing, some with awnings, and some that formed patiolike front pieces that stretched all the way to the street.
The largest building was a four-story redbrick behemoth on the corner of Main Street and Marshall that had originally housed the mercantile. Now it was the medical facility, complete with a five-room hospital.
Northbridge’s expansion was obvious as they went farther down Main Street. There the buildings were more boxy than the older models and lacked the character of their predecessors’ arches, different-colored-brick outlines and variations in rooflines.
But architecture notwithstanding, the La Brea ice-cream parlor in the glass-fronted shop at the opposite end of Main Street still had a line of customers waiting all the way out the front door.
Main Street ended there in a T. Cutty turned left then, showing Kira the white, tall-steepled church, and, beyond that, the stately blond brick government building that held his office.
The college was farther out, barely on the edges of the city proper. It was a nondescript, flat-walled building that didn’t draw much attention from the dormitory that was housed in a stately old mansion that would have done any Ivy League university proud.
Cutty turned the car around in the college parking lot and retraced the T, bypassing Main Street to go east this time. The department store had taken over the corner opposite the ice-cream parlor and past that they drove through small and moderate houses much like the one Cutty owned—all with their own warmth and charm, all at least forty years old, nearly all of them frame with wide porches and homey Victorian touches in their shutters and spindled porch rails.
That took them to the school compound—that’s what Cutty had called it when he’d told her where the softball game was being held.
He’d explained that Northbridge didn’t have enough population to sustain separate elementary, junior high and high schools so what had been established instead was a three-building compound that allowed each level a structure of its own to keep the age-groups apart while still sharing a single cafeteria, gymnasium, auditorium, office and combination playground-sports field.
Cutty’s own league was allowed use of the gym and the soccer-football-baseball-field-day field for their games.
He parked the car as close as possible to that multipurpose field where the wooden bleachers were already loaded with onlookers.
“You get quite a crowd,” Kira observed.
“Friends, family, friends of family—Northbridge is hardly bustling with activities so even small events get a pretty good turnout.”
With the engine off and the keys pulled from the ignition, Kira expected that they would be getting out of the car. But instead Cutty angled slightly toward her. And the smile he gave her made it seem as if he knew something she didn’t.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked.
Confused, Kira said, “I didn’t know there was anything for me to need to be ready for. Do the twins misbehave in public or something?”
“No, they’ll be fine. We’ll hardly see them. They’ll get passed around and spoiled rotten.”
“Then what do I need to be ready for?”
“A whole bunch of what you said you ran into today when you went shopping. Everybody’s going to want to meet you. And I do mean everybody. Northbridge is a lot different than Denver. There aren’t any strangers—even with the college in town.”
“Today wasn’t so bad,” Kira said, meaning it even if she had come away feeling inadequate in comparison to Marla again. That just seemed to be her lot in life.
“So you think you can handle it?” Cutty said.
“I think so.”
“Okay. Here goes…”
Cutty hadn’t been overstating when he’d said that everyone would want to meet her. In the hours that followed getting the twins into their stroller and the slow trek that took them from the parking lot to the field, Kira didn’t see much of the softball game. Instead she spent that time meeting and talking to every single person there.
Not that she minded, because she didn’t. Everyone was as nice as they could be, and if no one failed to mention Marla and how wonderful, how accomplished, how incredible they thought she was, at least it was good to know that her sister had been so well loved.
It wasn’t only Marla who was adored, though, Kira realized as the evening wore on. Or the twins who were fussed over and spoiled. Cutty received more than his share of praise, too.
At first Kira thought it was due to his broken ankle, but as time went on it became obvious that he was one of Northbridge’s fair-haired boys—broken ankle or not. It was almost like being with a celebrity.
When the game was over Cutty declined the invitation to go to Ad’s bar and restaurant for the post-game celebration, and he and Kira took the two weary babies home.
It was nearly ten by the time Kira had Mel and Mandy in bed. She headed back downstairs, expecting to find Cutty on the sofa with his ankle elevated on the coffee table. But the living room was empty of all but the toys strewn around it, and the dust and dirt she hadn’t yet attended to.
She wondered if he’d gone to bed himself while she’d been busy in the nursery. Although it seemed strange that he might do that without saying goodnight.
Still, the mere possibility dashed hopes she hadn’t even realized she’d had. Hopes that the evening might not be quite over.
It was that kiss, she thought as she tried to swallow her dejection. Maybe Cutty was avoiding her. Maybe he was worrie
d she would want him to do it again and he didn’t want to. Which was silly because of course she didn’t want him to do it again. He didn’t have to run and hide to avoid it.
Kira had herself worked up into quite a snit by the time she made it to the kitchen.
Then she found Cutty.
He was standing at the sink, slamming back two aspirin, oblivious to the course her thoughts had just taken.
And Kira’s snit evaporated and her hopes reinflated just that quick.
She tried to ignore those hopes, though, and said, “Is your ankle bothering you?”
“A little,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Maybe you should get off of it. I’m going to straighten up a few things in here before I call it a night, but if you want to go up to—”
“How about if I just sit here and keep you company?” he said simply enough.
“Okay,” she agreed, wishing she hadn’t sounded quite so pleased that he was inclined to stay with her.
She watched as Cutty pulled out two of the kitchen chairs—one to sit on and the other to brace his leg, wondering even as she did why it was that she never seemed to tire of looking at him.
Dishes. Do the dishes, she told herself.
She crossed to where he’d been standing moments before and went to work rinsing what was waiting for her in the sink, ignoring the fact that the African-print skirt and silk blouse she’d changed into to go to the game wasn’t a great outfit for dishwashing.
“You’re pretty popular around here,” she said.
Cutty laughed. “Well, since I have to live and work here I hope at least a few people like me.”
“There seems to be more to it than just being well liked,” Kira said, recalling the affection that had greeted him at the softball game. “It’s as if Marla was the favorite daughter, and you’re the favorite son.”
“I know Marla was the favorite daughter,” he said somewhat under his breath.
“And you are definitely the favorite son,” she persisted.
“I suppose that’s probably not too far off the mark,” he finally conceded. “The whole town did sort of take us under their wing.”
“When you first moved here?”
“Soon after. Remember that it’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business—sometimes that can be a pain, but other times knowing that business causes folks to pitch in and help.”
“There weren’t raised eyebrows over two seventeen-year-olds being married and having a baby?”
“Uncle Paulie set the tone. He didn’t look at teenagers having a baby as anything but a part of life. In fact he’d always say it only happened to the living, that the dead didn’t have to worry about it.” Cutty laughed at that. “I’m not sure how that measures up as words of wisdom go, but after your father acting like we’d just single-handedly destroyed the world, that philosophy was a welcome relief.”
“And the rest of Northbridge followed his lead?”
“Everybody loved Uncle Paulie. Like my dad, he was one of those guys it’s hard not to love. He had a big, boisterous laugh to go with his big, round belly, and he gave away as many doughnuts and coffees as he sold. It didn’t hurt that he was in full support of us. Then, too, he told anybody who would listen what kind of a life I’d had growing up, and that Marla’s father had turned his back on her—that got a lot of sympathy aimed in our direction. We sort of became the town project in a lot of ways that helped us make it.”
“Money?”
“I worked from the second day we got here—in the doughnut shop—so no, not really so much money. But folks gave us old furniture when we turned the garage into an apartment. And there was a communal baby shower to help us get ready for Anthony. But more important there was just acceptance, helping hands in the way of opportunities offered us, babysitting so we could finish high school and so I could go to college at night, things like that. Things that were more neighbor helping neighbor, except that for a long time I couldn’t reciprocate.”
“But now you do,” Kira guessed.
“Every chance I get.”
“Every day in your job,” she pointed out.
She’d finished the dishes and it was too late to mop the whole floor, so she dampened some paper towels and went to work on the mud trail.
The problem was, she was hardly dressed for cleaning the floor and it wasn’t easy to do it and keep her skirt out of the way.
She tried, though, hanging on to the billowy cotton with one hand while she crouched down to wield the paper towel with the other.
“If I was to guess,” she said as she did, “I’d say that was why you became a police officer—to give back to the community that gave to you when you needed it.”
“That sounds so cliché,” he said with a hint of a groan.
“So it isn’t true?” she asked, nearly losing her balance and barely keeping herself from falling flat on her face.
She hoped Cutty hadn’t seen it. And maybe he hadn’t because he just answered her question.
“It’s true that I wanted to do something that helped everybody who helped us. Protect and serve—that seemed to fit the bill. But it’s not as if I don’t like my job, because I do. I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else. And to be honest, I think one of the main factors in my choosing to do it was your father.”
That confused Kira. “My father?” she repeated, struggling with her skirt every time she moved forward in the odd sort of duckwalk she was doing.
“I hated that he thought I was some lowlife scum. That I was no good. That I’d never make anything of myself. I think in some ways being a cop was the other extreme and maybe that was part of the appeal.”
“Well, no one around here thinks you’re anything but terrific,” she informed him, thinking that she was glad of that, that he deserved it.
Kira duckwalked forward to the dirty spot right beside Cutty’s chair and nearly toppled over once more.
This time Cutty saw it because he said, “Why don’t you leave that until tomorrow when you aren’t in a dress?”
“I’m almost finished,” she said as she actually did wipe up the last of the mud.
But then she tried to stand.
And in the process she lost her grip on her skirt, stepped on the hem and the next thing she knew, she’d lurched right into big, strong arms that caught her by reflex.
“Oh!” she cried out in alarm.
After a moment of shock himself, Cutty laughed that deep, rich laugh. “Hello,” he said as if she’d intended to end up that way.
Kira tried not to notice the instant wellspring of sparkles that ran all through her at that contact and yanked herself backward, out of his hold.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding as flustered as she felt.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Are you?”
“As long as you don’t count that it’s been tough enough keeping my hands off you and you just fell right into my lap.”
Had he really just said he was having trouble keeping his hands off her?
That turned up the wattage on those sparkles.
But Kira pretended that wasn’t the case and that he hadn’t just said what he’d said. “You were right, I shouldn’t have been cleaning the floor in a skirt. I should have waited. But no, I just had to do it now. I just couldn’t let it go until tomorrow,” she said, berating herself.
“No harm done,” Cutty assured her.
“But there could have been. What if I’d hit your ankle? What if you’d jerked it yourself?”
“My ankle is fine. Besides,” he added with a sly, one-sided grin, “How often does a beautiful woman throw herself at me? Let’s just say I fell on you last night, and you fell on me tonight, and call it even.”
“Does that mean last night was an accident?” she asked before she’d controlled the tone that made her sound disappointed.
Cutty took his foot off the second chair and stood. Leaving his cane propped against the table, he pi
cked up the paper towel she’d dropped, and on his way to throwing it out he paused to lean close to her ear.
“No, last night was not an accident.”
He limped to the trash container, leaving Kira lost for a split second in the warm sensation left in his wake.
Once he’d disposed of the paper towel he turned his backside to the edge of the countertop to rest against it, taking his weight off his broken ankle by propping it atop the unbroken one.
“Although,” he said then, “I have to admit I didn’t put much thought into that little bit of indiscretion beforehand.”
“Did you regret it?” That question had just come out on its own, too.
Cutty laughed. “Not hardly. In fact, I’ve been thinking all day and night about doing it again.”
“You have?”
“I have.”
“That’s probably not a good idea, though?” she countered in a questioning tone that was much too tentative to carry any weight.
“No, it probably isn’t,” he agreed just as tentatively. “But good idea or not, every time it pops into my head—every time you pop into my head—it seems like something apart from everything and everybody else, and not a damn thing I tell myself makes any difference. I just want to kiss you again anyway.”
Those sparkles inside her felt as if they had turned into full beams of light that were setting her aglow.
“It does seem like that—something apart from everything and everybody else,” she confessed in a quiet voice.
Cutty’s smile turned slow and sexy. “Does that mean if I were to kiss you again you wouldn’t hit me over the head with the first thing you could grab?”
He would probably be the first thing she’d want to grab.
But she didn’t say that. She said, “We shouldn’t.” Only somehow it came out sounding like an invitation.
“I know,” he agreed, bending at the waist and reaching for her, pulling her to stand in front of him and clasping his hands loosely at the base of her spine so that his forearms rode the sides of her waist. “Maybe that’s part of what makes it so hard not to.”
Babies in the Bargain Page 9