A Father for Jesse

by Roth, Ann

  “Okay if I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course. I’ll go with you. You might need me to—”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Naturally he’d say that. For most of his life he’d been looking after himself and everyone else. He and she were so alike. Equally stubborn, too. She raised her chin. “I’ll help you, anyway.”

  When the mule-headed man opened his mouth to argue, she held a finger to her lips. “Jess is sleeping,” she murmured.

  Not that anything would bother her son. He always slept like the dead.

  She led Mac to the bathroom, which, because tomorrow was cleaning day, wasn’t as tidy as she’d have liked. Nothing to be done about that now.

  She put the toilet lid down and pushed Mac onto it. He was so big and the room so small that his knees almost brushed the tub. After washing her hands and wetting a clean rag, Emmy leaned over him. Her hair fell forward into her face.

  She tried to brush it back with her arm, but that didn’t work. To her surprise, Mac tucked it behind her ears with his uninjured hand. It trembled a little. Maybe he was in shock.

  “Thanks.” She flashed him a quick smile, then began to clean the skin around the wound.

  As careful as she was, he flinched.

  “Sorry.” She bit her lip. “It must really hurt.”

  His eyes were dark and intent and unsettling. “A little.”

  Emmy returned her attention to the angry slash. Fresh blood oozed from it, but not as fast and furious as before. Thank goodness.

  “The bleeding has slowed,” she said. “Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”

  “Couple months ago.”

  “That’s good.”

  With a fresh cloth she lightly blotted the area around the cut. She couldn’t help comparing Mac’s broad palm to her smaller one. She noted the calluses born of hard, physical labor. His hands were weathered and rough, yet his touch could be so gentle….

  Her heart flooded with warmth and tenderness for this man, emotions she couldn’t afford and didn’t want. Emotions she would hide.

  “I don’t know, you might need stitches,” she said, sparing him only a brief glance.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  The stubborn thrust of his jaw warned her not to argue.

  “How did this happen?” she asked.

  “My tire blew. The flashlight batteries died and I couldn’t see what I was doing.”

  That explained the pop. Emmy shook her head. “You couldn’t come over and borrow my flashlight?”

  “I didn’t want to bother you so late.”

  Fine, but that didn’t explain why he was in the neighborhood at this hour. Emmy wanted to know. “Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?” she asked, instead.

  “I was, but I had enough.”

  That must mean he hadn’t met anyone who interested him. Emmy was far too pleased about that. She stood and pulled a roll of sterile gauze and a tube of antibacterial ointment from the bathroom cabinet. Bending down once more, she squeezed the salve onto Mac’s wound. Again he tensed and sucked in a breath.

  “Time for the bandage.” She unrolled the gauze and carefully wrapped it around his thumb and palm.

  “You’re good at this,” he said. “You must have medical training.”

  Emmy shook her head. “You forget, I’m the mother of a boy. Is there a reason why you parked in the Rutherfords’ driveway tonight? Surely you weren’t planning to work. If you didn’t want to bother me for a flashlight, how would you get the key?”

  Mac scowled. “You about finished?”

  “Another few seconds.” She taped the gauze in place, then brushed her hands together. “All done.”

  “Thanks. Feels better already.”

  Mac pushed to his feet. In the tiny room, he was far too close to Emmy. Close enough that she felt his breath on her skin. He smelled of spicy aftershave, beer and fresh air.

  His eyes connected with hers, and Emmy forgot about fighting her feelings or hiding them. She forgot everything, even breathing. She finally pulled in a gasp. Mac’s gaze softened, heated. Awareness shivered over her. He cupped her nape with his good hand and lowered his head until his mouth almost brushed hers. With every nerve in her body screaming for his touch and this kiss, she offered her lips.

  Mac let out a strangled sound, dropped his hand and backed away, bumping into the wall as if dazed. He spun around and hurried out of the bathroom.

  Did he want her or not? Bewildered, Emmy followed him down the hall. She ought to be relieved that Mac had more control than she did. She wasn’t.

  He was almost at the door. She couldn’t let him go, not like this. Neither would she ask him to stay. She had her pride. So she pitched him something entirely different, a proposition he couldn’t refuse.

  “You can’t change your tire with one hand,” she said. “I’ll help you.”

  A CERTAIN PART of Mac’s frustrated body throbbed painfully. Man, he craved release. He needed to get away from Emmy while he was still able. He hated asking her for help. Bandaging his thumb was enough. But she was right—he couldn’t change the flat on his own. At least they’d be outside in the cold night air.

  “You ever changed a tire?” he asked.

  “No, but you can tell me what to do.”

  He nodded. “Bring your flashlight.”

  “Let me scribble a note for Jess first. I don’t expect him to wake up, but you never know.”

  Moments later they stood beside the van, their breaths cloudy in the chill air and a yard of night between them. This was much better. Feeling in control again, Mac took the flashlight from Emmy and aimed the beam at the front tire.

  “I already loosened the lug nuts,” he said. “You’ll need to unscrew them the rest of the way, then give them to me so you don’t lose any.”

  Emmy hunkered down. Her hair was in her face again. Mac thought about brushing it back like he had in the bathroom, but the flowery scent and silky feel of those strands against his skin had nearly undone him. Gripping the flashlight in his good hand, he watched her twist a lug nut and couldn’t help imagining those fingers touching a certain part of him, instead.

  His groin stirred to life. Angry with himself for going where he shouldn’t, he shifted his gaze to the fender. And hoped to God she hurried.

  “How’re you doing?” he asked, his voice raspy with need.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “I’m just about…Ta-da! One down.”

  Smiling and still crouched, she proudly held up the lug nut. Mac stuck the flashlight under his arm as she handed it to him. Her fingers brushed briefly and lightly across his palm. Heat shuddered through him. How sick was that? She was changing a tire, for Chrissake.

  He was in one helluva mess here. Looked as if was going to be one of those self-gratification nights. Not Mac’s idea of fun, but he had to do something to ease this powerful need.

  One by one he stowed the lug nuts in his hip pocket until he had all five. Emmy started to jimmy the wheel back and forth to work it off. He stopped her.

  “I’m injured, not helpless. I’ll do that,” he said, taking over.

  Now Emmy held the flashlight. Mac removed the flat and laid it on the driveway. He retrieved the spare from the side of the house where he’d leaned it.

  The flashlight beam moved over him, and he could feel Emmy’s curious gaze.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s really cold tonight and you hardly ever wear a jacket,” she said, shivering despite her winter coat. “How do you stand it? You must be unusually warm-blooded.”

  Make that hot. Burning hot. Mac managed a shrug.

  “May I put on the new tire?” she asked.

  “If you want.”

  “I do.”

  She took the spare from him. This time her knuckles skimmed his belly. Mac tensed. So did Emmy, as if she realized she was torturing him. As his body went rock hard, he hissed.

  “Mac, I—”

  Afraid of what
she might say, he jerked his chin at the rim. “Finish with the damn tire, will you?”

  She nodded and fit the spare on the wheel. Careful not to touch her, Mac dropped a lug nut into her hand and explained how to spin the nut but not tighten it yet. He directed her to screw on the rest in a diagonal, crisscross pattern.

  “The spare might try to move on you,” he cautioned. “I’ll hold it in place. When you’re through we’ll torque everything nice and tight.”

  At last, mercifully, she finished the job.

  “My first tire change. I’m so proud.” Emmy brushed her hands on her thighs and beamed. “It was dirty—but fun.”

  Fun? Try agonizing. Mac stared at her handiwork. “You did a good job. Thanks.”

  Anxious to leave before he did something he might regret, like kiss her, he loaded the jack and tools into the van, tossed in the flat and slid the door shut.

  When he turned around to say goodbye, Emmy stood with her head angled and her expression curious. “I need to know, Mac. Why did you come here tonight?”

  How to explain without making a bad situation worse? Mac scrubbed his good hand over his face. “Believe me, I didn’t plan this. It just happened. I was turning around in the driveway. I must’ve run over a nail. You know the rest.”

  “I’m still confused. Before, when you kissed me…I thought you wanted me.” She blushed. “A little while ago…Why did you push me away?”

  Mac tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was harsh. “You ask tough questions, know that?”

  She didn’t say a word, simply waited, and Mac knew he couldn’t weasel out of answering her.

  “I’m in hell here,” he admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Tonight I tried, and look where it got me. A flat tire, a gash in my hand. Then what almost happened in the bathroom…” He glanced down at his semihard groin and shook his head. “Like I said, it’s hell.”

  Wondering if he should tell her the rest, he rubbed the space between his eyes. “I want you, Emmy, more than I ever wanted a woman. But being with you that way—it won’t work. I can’t get involved.”

  She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then sighed and shut off the flashlight. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but talking to you in the dark feels safe, so I’m going to. A month ago, I knew without a doubt that I wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship. I also realized that when the time felt right, I wanted a commitment from a man willing to stick around and help raise Jesse. But now, with you…”

  Pausing a moment, she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I want you as badly as you want me. And I’m beginning to think that sex with no strings is okay.”

  Even in the scant light her eyes glittered with feeling, with need. It would be easy to reach for her and indulge in the pleasure and sexual release they both yearned for. And so good.

  Mac blew out a breath as clouded as his reasoning. “I know you, Emmy, and no matter what you feel right now, sex isn’t enough for you. You need a man to love you and, like you said, be a father to Jesse. Things I can’t give you. I’m afraid you’d…I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Her chin jutted. “I’m not some fragile little flower, Mac. I can take care of myself. I always have.”

  Mac had no doubt of that, but still wasn’t convinced. “You’d better think carefully about this, make sure that sex and only sex is what you want.”

  “I meant what I said. It is.”

  Despite her level gaze, his gut told him she needed space and time to decide. So did he. “All the same, I’ll feel better if you think about it some more.”

  She rolled her eyes in a gesture reminiscent of her son. “All right.”

  That was a relief. “With my bum thumb, I’m taking the whole weekend off,” he said. “I won’t be back until Monday.”

  “I’ll let you know my decision then.”

  “Take longer if you need to.”

  She nodded.

  “Would you mind not telling anyone about tonight?” Mac said. “If my brothers found out I was here…” They’d have a field day with this.

  Emmy pretended to lock her lips. “I won’t. You’d be surprised at the secrets I’m keeping.”

  While Mac mulled over that interesting statement, wondering who’d confided in her, she gave him a sweet smile. “Won’t Brian and Ian wonder how you hurt your hand?”

  “I’ll say the tire blowout happened on the way home. Night, Emmy.”

  “Good night.”

  She touched her fingers to her lips, then pressed them to his mouth, leaving him burning for the real thing. He didn’t hide his need as he kissed her fingertips.

  Neither of them saw Jesse watching through a chink in the living-room drapes.

  Chapter Ten

  Jesse awoke with a start. Barely conscious, rubbing his eyes, he padded into the living room, blinking in the light from the reading lamp. A note from his mom lay on the coffee table. I’m next door at the Rutherfords’—back soon.

  More alert now, he glanced at the clock in the kitchen. Ten after twelve. Mom didn’t go out much at night, especially this late. What was she doing over there?

  Curious, he peered through the slit between the drapes. There wasn’t much light across the street, but he saw Mac’s van in the driveway. He always parked out front, so this was different. He was standing next to the vehicle with his mom, and she was touching his mouth with her hand. Sometimes she did that to Jesse—a kiss with fingers, instead of lips. By the way she kept her eyes on Mac’s face and the tilt of Mac’s head toward her, Jesse knew they were starting to be more than just friends.

  His mom never said anything, but he guessed she was lonely. Mac was the first guy she’d liked since Dad left. He was cool, and he knew how to do math homework.

  “Awesome,” Jesse whispered.

  His mom dropped her hand and Mac stepped into the van’s shadow. She turned away and headed toward their house. Jesse didn’t want her to catch him awake. Giddy from his discovery, he giggled and hightailed it back to bed. He heard her come inside, shut the door and dead-bolt it. Her coat swished as she slipped out of it and hung it up.

  Certain that she’d peek in to check on him like she always did, he forced himself to lie still and fake sleep.

  Sure enough, seconds later his bedroom door creaked open. Jesse kept his eyes screwed tight and breathed slowly. When she closed the door and he knew she was gone, he smiled in the darkness.

  Mac and his mom together would be so great. He might stay here, instead of leaving. Maybe. If Jesse didn’t screw things up. Like he had with his dad.

  His smile faded. He still remembered when his father had walked out just before Valentine’s Day. Jesse remembered this because it was the morning he’d cut out hearts at kindergarten and made cards for his parents. That afternoon his dad, who usually got home at dinnertime, arrived early. He was in a really bad mood. The babysitter left. Saying he needed space, Jesse’s dad sent him outside to play with Corry, his friend across the street. Jesse remembered tossing a baseball back and forth with Corry, the way some of the older guys did. They were only five, and not very good at throwing or catching. Jesse missed a ball from Corry. It sailed over his head and hit the hood of his dad’s car. The impact left a ding on the shiny black surface.

  His dad must’ve been watching. He came out yelling and cursing something awful. Corry ran home, crying, and Jesse’s dad stomped inside again. Humiliated and ashamed for missing the ball and putting a dent in the car, Jess had sprinted to a nearby tree, climbed up and stayed there until he figured out how to make things right. Then he shinnied down and quietly crept to his room.

  He opened his piggy bank and tipped out all the money he was collecting to buy a bicycle. It was too much for him to count. There were so many coins and dollar bills, he couldn’t carry them all in his hands. So he put them back into the bank.

  He heard his mother drive up, but instead of hurrying to welcome her, he brought the piggy bank to his parents’ bedroom, where his dad was packi
ng two suitcases.

  “What’s this?” he asked when Jess handed over his savings.

  “It’s to pay for fixing the ding.”

  His father had laughed in a way that sounded more like he was angry. “Don’t be ridiculous. All the money in the world won’t make me stay here.”

  It was the last thing he said before he snapped the bags closed, hefted them and strode outside to meet Jesse’s mom.

  After all this time, Jesse’s conscience still hurt from what he’d done. Driven his father away.

  He hugged his pillow and made a silent vow. This time things would be different. He was through acting up. From now on, he’d be extra good and extra nice. Then surely, Mac would stick around.

  MONDAY MORNING, at the end of a three-day weekend spent cleaning, cooking, freezing meals and running errands, Emmy sat on the sofa folding laundry. Jesse was at the kitchen table, finishing his homework with barely a mumble. For no reason she knew of, starting with their doughnut breakfast at Mocha Java Saturday morning, her surly son had turned into a sunny, enjoyable child. He’d stayed that way all weekend, unusually cooperative, cleaning his room and doing whatever else she asked of him without a single argument. He’d even offered to wash the dishes after she baked cookies and brownies for the week.

  The sudden shift in attitude more than surprised her and made her wonder what had happened to cause it. As Emmy folded a pair of her son’s jeans she resisted the urge to ask the universe what it’d done with the Jesse she knew. She was too pleased to question this wonderful change.

  Today the sun actually shone, though weakly, as if it approved of this new, improved boy. Cold as it was, it was a perfect day to explore the beach together. At least worth a suggestion. So far Jess had declined. Now, though…

  Emmy smiled to herself. Her son still needed a friend. She’d suggest inviting Peter, the boy from the library, over to walk the beach with them. Or anything else Jess wanted to do, as long as part of the day included the two of them. Preferably something away from the house. From Mac.