A Father for Jesse

by Roth, Ann

“So that’s why you waited to start college until now.”

  “Actually, summer quarter starts in mid-June. I’m going to Europe first, then heading to Seattle.”

  “Quitting your job and traveling sounds wonderful,” she said, flashing her even, white teeth.

  Her first genuine smile. That and her suddenly sparkling eyes brightened the gray morning.

  “Don’t I know it.” He grinned back. “But I’m not quitting—just taking a few years off. After I get my degree, I’ll be back. While I’m gone, my kid brothers, Brian and Ian, will run the business.”

  They’d offered without Mac even asking. He knew why. They owed him. Which was true, but he wouldn’t have agreed unless they really wanted to run the company. Both assured him they did. A good thing, since they were the best hands he’d ever hired.

  “I never had brothers or sisters,” Emmy said in a wistful tone. “You’re lucky.”

  Even without the smile she was so pretty Mac couldn’t look away. Her eyes were green. And warm. Maybe she liked him a little. He liked her, too. If he hadn’t been leaving town soon and she hadn’t had a kid, he’d seriously consider asking her for a date. Except she was probably looking for a husband. No, thanks. Mac was tired of being Mr. Responsible. Six weeks and counting until he was out of here and free. This morning was nothing but a friendly conversation with a woman who also happened to be beautiful.

  He tore his gaze from her. “Sometimes brothers are a real pain,” he said, rolling his eyes skyward.

  “Even so, I’ll bet you’re never lonely. I always wanted Jesse to have a brother or sister, but it didn’t work out.”

  Mac had to know. Not because he cared—he couldn’t afford to go there—but because he was curious. “Where’s his dad?”

  “Gone.” Emmy’s eyes went flat. “Jesse was five when Chas filed for divorce, emptied the bank account and disappeared. He didn’t even surface to sign the divorce papers—his attorney handled everything. You don’t want to know how much he owes in child support.”

  A bum deal for sure. No wonder the boy was such a handful. Neither he nor his mom had had an easy time.

  “Bastard.”

  “He is, but Jesse and I are managing.”

  She raised her chin defensively, and Mac knew that this was not a woman who accepted help easily. Which he totally understood, since he was the same way.

  “Speaking of Jesse, I saw him catch the bus this morning.” He wouldn’t say what he thought of the kid’s gangsta dress style. He didn’t want Emmy shooting daggers at him again.

  “Today is his first day at school. He takes a while to adjust to new things and he was nervous. I offered him a ride, but he insisted on taking the bus.” The smile Mac so liked twitched Emmy’s lips. “That’s my Jess, Mr. Independent. I hope he likes school and his teacher, Mrs. Hatcher. Tom Rutherford said good things about her.”

  A light breeze stirred up her hair, and little wisps fluttered around her face. Mac shoved his hands into the hip pockets of his jeans to keep from reaching out and brushing them back.

  “I know Liza,” he said. “Her husband, D.J., owns Island Air and last year he and Liza hired me to remodel their upstairs. She’s great. Friendly and nurturing. From what I hear, kids love her.”

  “That’s great news. My son needs a caring teacher and a positive school experience.” Her eyes filled with shadows.

  “Bad year?”

  Hugging herself, Emmy nodded. “An older boy—a street-gang leader—befriended Jesse and tried to recruit him. That’s why we left Oakland.”

  And explained the boy’s clothes this morning.

  “What you said about teaching kids things at a young age—you’re absolutely right.” Emmy’s frank expression held Mac like a tether. “And I swear, I’m going to—”

  A horn tooted, cutting off whatever she was about to say. Mac’s brothers had arrived. Their shiny black truck pulled to a stop several yards away. The dingy red tow truck behind them rumbled on, slowly backing the Dumpster into the driveway.

  Standing here talking with Emmy, Mac had completely forgotten about work. Which just showed how cockeyed he was this morning. Frowning, he watched the tow truck position and deposit the Dumpster, pull out of the driveway and trundle away.

  And had a stern talk with himself. He was not interested in Emmy Logan. Was not. But she sure attracted him. Those big, expressive eyes, that generous mouth, those long, slender legs…His body tightened, and he bit back an oath. No more of that.

  His brothers slid out of both sides of their vehicle and slammed the doors. They grabbed tools from the back.

  “Looks as if your help has arrived,” Emmy said. “Are those your brothers?” She sounded ready for more easy back-and-forth.

  Not Mac. This conversation was over. So was his interest in her—or it would be once he got busy working. “Yep,” he said, hardening his mouth.

  His tone was harsh, and judging by the sudden jump of Emmy’s eyebrows, unexpected.

  Best this way. Mac didn’t want her thinking they were friends when they weren’t.

  MAC’S HOSTILE expression and clipped reply told Emmy he wanted her gone. After their enjoyable conversation, the sudden dismissal both stung and confused her. She glanced at the two grinning males sauntering slowly their way. “Is it them or me who put that frown on your face?”

  “I’m not frowning.”

  Oh, yes, he was. Apparently he didn’t like her and had tired of pretending he did. Why not just say he needed to get to work?

  “I know you’re busy. I also have things to do, so I’ll go.” She wanted to paint Jesse’s entire room before the bus dropped him off after school.

  But she also wanted to meet the men Mac had raised. Who looked almost identical and bore a striking resemblance to their brother, though their faces were leaner and younger. Both openly scrutinized Emmy from head to toe. Self-conscious, she straightened her spine and sucked in her stomach, even though that part of her was hidden under her buttoned wool jacket.

  “Before I go, could you introduce me to your brothers?” she asked.

  Who, by their matching curious expressions, wanted to meet her, too.

  “I don’t have much choice,” Mac muttered, looking as if he’d rather eat nails. “Otherwise they’ll wonder who you are. That could lead to some serious razzing.”

  “You’re joking.” Though Mac’s unhappy face told her he wasn’t. “There’s nothing about me to wonder over. Or about us. We’re talking, that’s all.”

  Emmy was proud of her nonchalant tone. Mac would never know she was attracted to him. She was strong-willed, and could and would banish her feelings. Getting settled, helping Jesse adjust and being busy with her new job would see to that. She didn’t want to get involved with any man, least of all one who was leaving town soon. Who made it clear up front that he’d had enough of kids. She wanted only to raise her son, work and live a simple, quiet life.

  “You know that and I know that,” he said too softly for his brothers, now less than ten feet away, to hear. He nodded at them. “About time you two showed up.”

  They reached Emmy and Mac and stopped. And there she was, in the company of three big, brawny, very good-looking males, all with sky-blue eyes fringed in thick, dark lashes any woman would envy. Emmy certainly did. And she just about swooned.

  Of the three, Mac clearly was the most attractive. His brothers were too young and their faces too smooth, whereas Mac had tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the beginnings of brackets on either side his mouth. He seemed tougher and more seasoned, more manly. More everything that was appealing.

  With a warning look at his brothers, Mac made the introductions. “Brian and Ian, meet Emmy Logan. She just moved here from Oakland and rents the cottage across the street.”

  At five-seven Emmy wasn’t exactly short, and she was always battling ten extra pounds. Yet circled by these three men, each well over six feet, she felt petite and very feminine. Especially under their appreciative gla
nces. Brian’s and Ian’s, that is. Mac’s veiled eyes revealed nothing.

  “Hello,” she said, holding out her hand.

  First Brian, whose hair was longer, then Ian, sporting a neat mustache and goatee, shook her hand. Both had firm grips and friendly expressions.

  “How do you like the island?” Brian asked. A lock of dark, curly hair swooped over his forehead.

  “It seems like a wonderful place,” she said. “Pretty and quiet and friendly.”

  “You’re right on the money.” Ian flashed a toothy grin. “How long are you staying?”

  “Forever. If all goes well.”

  “She has an eleven-year-old son,” Mac said. “Jesse.”

  Emmy wished she knew what he was thinking, but his face was unreadable.

  “I went to college with a Jesse,” Ian said. “Good guy. This is a great place to grow up. Cleaner and safer than Oakland, for sure.”

  After winking at her, Brian nodded at Mac. “You seem to have found out a lot about Emmy.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” His twin chuckled. “What I’d like to know is—”

  “There’s nothing to know,” Mac said, cutting him off. “Like I said, Emmy lives across the street. She stopped by to say hello. Period.” He glared at them. Then he glared at Emmy.

  Because that fierce, back-off look hurt—what had she done?—she glared back. Mac’s face darkened before he glanced toward the gaping door of the van.

  Brian and Ian guffawed as if they’d cracked a joke. Which only seemed to irritate Mac more. His jaw tightened.

  Quickly sobering, both younger men shut their mouths. Their eyes, however, continued to twinkle. They didn’t want to push their big brother too far, but neither were they cowed by him. It was obvious they loved and looked up to him.

  Anyone could see he’d done a great job raising them. Emmy admired him for what he’d tackled at such an early age. And liked him all the more. From Mac’s forbidding expression, he felt the complete opposite about her.

  Now that she’d apologized to him and met his brothers, she’d leave them to their work and get started with hers. Aside from an occasional wave or nod, there was no reason to see or talk to any of them again.

  Which would no doubt delight Mac and was fine with Emmy.

  “If you need a kitchen to fix your lunch or a glass of water or anything at all, feel free to stop by,” she said. She hadn’t planned to offer, but any decent person would. For her neighborliness she earned a terse frown from Mac.

  “No, thanks. We have what we need.” He nodded at his brothers. “Ready to rock and roll?”

  Without a “see you later” or “nice chatting with you” or “take care now,” he began to pull tools from the van. If that wasn’t a brush-off…

  Refusing to let on that his brusqueness bothered her—and it did, a lot—she smiled sweetly at his brothers. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.” When they returned the sentiment, she continued, “You’re not rude like your brother. Maybe you can teach him some manners.” Looking at Mac, she amped up her smile. “You have a terrific day. I know I will.”

  She turned away and without a backward glance strolled home to paint.

  Chapter Three

  Emmy had called him rude. Resisting the urge to stare dumbly after her, Mac leaned into the van and reached for the circular saw. Her door clicked open. Then firmly shut, the sound easy to hear in the silence that followed her killer exit.

  A silence that seemed to mock him.

  Well, he’d wanted to make his point, be sure she knew he wasn’t about to start anything with her. Given the warmth he felt when she looked at him—hell, even when she didn’t—he had to set her straight. Maybe himself, too.

  By acting like a Neanderthal? Angry mostly at himself, Mac grabbed the saw and headed for the porch. He caught Brian staring at Emmy’s door with a penetrating expression. Stroking his goatee, Ian, too, seemed deep in thought.

  “What?” Mac growled.

  “Guess she told you,” Brian said, and damned if he wasn’t grinning.

  When Mac narrowed his eyes, Ian laughed. “You deserved it, too. You were a real butt. That’s not the way you raised us.”

  “Nope,” Brian said. “Makes me wonder why she set you off.”

  Because she got to him. Made him want to get to know her better when he had no business doing so. “We have work to do. Take this inside.” He thrust the saw at Ian. “Brian, grab the rest of the stuff from the van.”

  Mac retrieved his tool belt from the passenger side of the van, buckled it on and followed his brothers up the front steps.

  Hours later, after they tore off the back wall of the kitchen, hung and tacked down Visquine to keep out the cold—fat lot of good that did—Brian pushed his safety glasses to the top of his head, dropped his face mask and returned to the subject.

  “At least explain why you were such a toad to Emmy.”

  “Yeah,” Ian said.

  They wouldn’t move on until Mac answered the question. He pulled off his goggles, causing a shower of plasterboard flecks. “I’m leaving town in six weeks,” he said. “There’s a lot to do here, and I can’t afford any distractions.”

  “And barking at her figures in how?” Ian asked. “You just met the woman. It’s not like you’re dating and she wants to get married or anything.”

  “She’s a looker, and sweet, too. Maybe he wants to date her.” Brian’s lips curled knowingly, and Ian chuckled.

  Mac rolled his eyes. “You’re both full of sawdust. This is my time to be free, to travel and go to school, and I can’t wait to leave. Unless either of you knuckleheads wants to waste more time and drag this project out a few extra weeks?”

  The teasing looks vanished.

  “Not me.” Brian donned his glasses and mask.

  “Let’s get back to work,” Ian said.

  Relieved, Mac picked up a crowbar and destroyed a kitchen cabinet.

  IN THE BATHROOM of the cottage, Emmy returned Jesse’s hairbrush, mousse and toothpaste, which he’d left on the counter, to his side of a medicine cabinet that had seen better days. Their new home was livable enough, but definitely needed updating and some TLC. Since Emmy had signed a year-long lease and they’d be here a while, she intended to do what she could to make the place comfortable and welcoming. In here that meant a new red shower curtain and matching bathroom rug.

  She wiped down the counter and sink, chores she hadn’t taken time for earlier. She’d been too eager to talk to Mac, a man she barely knew. Which wouldn’t change, judging by his brusque manner. Emmy still felt the prick of his scowl and its implied message. We’re through here. Dismissed, over and out. Her back stiffened.

  The fact that he disliked her was no big deal. Perfect really, since she wasn’t interested in him, either.

  Which was a big, fat lie.

  As she stood before the mirror and pulled her hair into a ponytail, she frowned into her own wistful eyes. “There’ll be no more thinking about Mac Struthers today, Emmy Logan. He’s a waste of energy, and you have work to do.” And if she wanted to finish Jesse’s room by three-thirty, a short timeline.

  After quickly changing into a raggedy pink sweatshirt and aging gray sweatpants, the perfect painting outfit, she carried the radio and a kitchen chair into Jesse’s room. The walls were a horrible baby-aspirin pink, unbearable for anyone, let alone an eleven-year-old boy. Thankfully the Rutherfords had given her the go-ahead to change the color to anything she wanted. At her expense.

  Knowing she was going to paint in here, she and Jess had only unpacked the necessities—bedding and a few changes of clothes. The rest of his things were still in boxes stacked along the wall in the hallway.

  Emmy found an oldies station on the radio. “Ain’t No Sunshine” was playing—fitting for the gray day. Singing along, she covered the floor and bed with plastic tarp. She set down the two paint cans. Jesse had chosen a metallic blue for the ceiling, and a deeper, richer shade for the walls. The colors had
to be custom-mixed and cost more than Emmy had budgeted. But pleasing her son, helping him feel good about this move, was more important than a few extra dollars. She’d compensate by waiting to paint the rest of the house until she’d collected a paycheck or two.

  Within minutes she was standing on the chair, rolling a thick coat onto the ceiling. Grueling work that made her arms and neck hurt from reaching up. At least the room was small.

  Still, covering the ceiling seemed to take forever. At last the job was done. Already the room looked brighter. Emmy stretched the kinks out of her back. A break would be nice, but it was almost noon and there was so much more to do. She managed to paint one wall before her empty stomach gurgled in protest.

  “All right, all right,” she muttered.

  Time for lunch. Plus the fumes were awful. She wanted to open all the windows, but then, given the dampness and chilly outdoor temperature, the paint would never dry. The windows stayed shut.

  Jess might have to use her room tonight. He’d need a good night’s sleep so he wouldn’t be tired in school. Meaning she’d be stuck with the cottage’s lumpy living-room couch and was sure to wake up with a backache.

  In the kitchen she washed her hands, then slapped together a peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich. She ate quickly. As she sponged off the table a knock sounded at the door.

  Who could that be? Mac? It was shameful how hopeful she suddenly felt. He wasn’t interested. And she shouldn’t be, either.

  There was no time to fix her face or her hair or change her clothes. Tugging down her sweatshirt and tightening her ponytail, she hurried to the door.

  But instead of Mac, Brian stood on the stoop. Emmy hid her disappointment behind a friendly face. “Hello.”

  “Hi.” Looking younger than twenty-two, his face streaked with grime, Brian smiled. “We had to shut off the water, and you said to come over if we needed anything…” He held up two liter-size empty bottles. “Would it be all right to fill these for me and Ian?”

  Not Mac, too? Emmy wondered as she widened the door. “Of course. Come on in.”