by Judy Duarte
“Honestly, Toby, it’s not your decision. I thought you’d be a little more cooperative, but I guess the kids can’t count on you for that.”
The woman disconnected the call before Toby could throw the phone out his open window, which was what he’d wanted to do the moment he’d heard her voice.
He sucked the country air into his lungs and counted to ten, the way his pitching coach had taught him to do when he’d been on the mound.
Think. Whom did he call first? Ms. Fisk, the case worker? Or an attorney?
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Crap. It was too late to call anyone today. That would have to wait until tomorrow. He continued to sit in the idling truck for a while, his hands on the steering wheel, his thoughts on the troubling call.
Would the court decide that the kids were better off with a sketchy family member over a stable and caring guardian? It didn’t seem feasible, but then again, anything was possible...
He did his best to shake off Barbara’s threat, telling himself he didn’t have time to worry about that blasted woman. He’d told Angie that he was going to be late, but he hadn’t meant to completely abandon her with the kids.
After checking for traffic, Toby pulled back onto the road and accelerated.
At times like this it was nice to know he had someone to rely on, especially Angie.
People might think that she was flighty—and they might even be right. But either way, she was proving to be a real blessing.
A man could get used to going home to a woman like her.
* * *
Angie sure hoped Toby got home soon, because she was fading fast. She hadn’t slept very well the past two nights, thanks in large part to the residual stress and worry from that 911 fiasco at the Y.
Even her mother had heard all about it and called, asking her what had happened. Sheesh. What a pain that conversation had been.
But at least Toby trusted her enough to ask her to help with the kids again.
It hadn’t been easy to adjust her schedule to accommodate his, but she had. She’d worked a split shift at the Superette, going in early this morning. Then she’d left at ten o’clock to take Mr. Murdock to his doctor’s appointment in Vicker’s Corners. After that, she’d run over to Redmond-Fortune Air to type some letters for Sawyer. And it was back to the Superette for another two-hour shift, after which she purchased the ingredients she needed to make spaghetti for dinner.
She was nearly late picking the kids up from school, but she got there just in the nick of time. Then it was a quick stop at her house for the surprise she’d planned for the evening.
A couple of summers ago, she’d worked at an old movie theater outside of Lubbock. When the Red Raider Cinemas went out of business, the owner gave Angie a projector and several old movie reels. She’d always wanted to have an old-fashioned movie night under the stars, but she’d never gotten around to planning one. That was, until tonight.
Too bad she was about to nod off from exhaustion. She could really use one of those energy drinks Brian had wanted yesterday afternoon.
Hopefully, Toby would be home soon. He’d told her not to wait dinner for him, and they hadn’t. At this rate, she was going to start the movie without him, too. Otherwise, she’d probably curl up on his sofa and nod off before he even got home.
She’d fixed him a plate and left it on the stove. Then she’d cleaned up the kitchen. She’d made popcorn, but had to make it the old-fashioned way, since Toby didn’t have any kind of popper. She’d just salted a large bowl for them to share when Brian came in.
“We’re all done,” he said. “Me and Justin hung up the white sheet, just like you told us. And Kylie made beds for us on the lawn. You ought to see it.”
Angie followed the boys out of the house, where they’d set up the makeshift outdoor movie theater. And, just as Brian had said, Kylie had, indeed, made them a giant bed—with every blanket, sheet and pillow she could possibly find.
“Did you leave any of the beds made up in the house?” Angie asked her.
“Nope,” Kylie said. “Even Toby’s blankets and pillows are out here.”
That wasn’t quite what Angie had in mind, which meant there was going to be a big mess to clean up afterward, when she doubted she’d have the energy to deal with it. But she wasn’t about to scold the kids when the whole idea had been hers in the first place—and when they’d tried so hard to follow her instructions.
Besides, look how happy they were.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
She’d just finished setting up the projector with the Star Wars film threaded in the proper slots, when Toby’s Dodge rolled into the driveway.
“What’s all this?” Toby asked, as he stepped out of his truck.
“Movie night!” Justin yelled, as he barged out of the back door in his pajamas and dived onto the bedding on the lawn, calling his spot.
Toby looked nearly as tired as Angie felt—probably realizing they’d have four beds to make up before anyone could go to sleep tonight.
Angie hoped she hadn’t blown it by throwing the impromptu cinema party in his backyard.
Toby nodded to the old projector. “Where in the world did you get that thing? Wait, don’t tell me. Does it have something to do with an old job?”
His grin and a glimmer in his eye teased her in a way that didn’t make her feel quite so bad about her history of random employment. But she sidestepped his question and asked one of her own. “You look tired. Would you rather we do this another night?”
“And disappoint the kids?” Toby’s grin blossomed into a smile, easing her mind. “No way. Let me get out of these clothes and put on something more comfortable.”
Angie had been so busy reading into Toby’s expression, which hadn’t matched the upbeat tone of his voice when he’d called her earlier, that she’d failed to notice that he wasn’t wearing his trademark jeans, T-shirt and cowboy boots.
He was dressed in black slacks, a button-down shirt and expensive dress boots. He looked sharp—and ready for a night on the town without the kids.
She wondered what it might be like to actually go out on a date with him—if they had a sitter.
That was, if he’d actually ask her to be his date.
As Toby headed into the house, Brian and Kylie followed Justin’s lead, rushing outside in their pajamas and choosing their own spots to spread out on the blankets.
But Angie’s thoughts were on Toby.
“I’ll get the popcorn,” she told the kids. “Showtime is in five minutes.”
She made her way into the house slowly. She didn’t want Toby to think that she was following him.
But what if he’d wanted her to?
Oh, get a grip. She was so sleep-deprived, she was becoming delusional.
She was about to carry the first load of refreshments outside when Toby stepped into the kitchen.
“Thanks,” he said, his eyes contradicting the simplicity of his single word as they bored deeply into her own.
She tried to downplay the intensity in his gaze, as well as her efforts to provide a fun evening for the kids. “It was no big deal.”
“Actually, it’s a big deal to me. You have no idea how much I need this right now.”
She thought Toby was going to pull her in for a hug, and she would have willingly gone—if he’d made the first move. But as her heartbeats pounded off the seconds and he didn’t make the attempt, she realized it was probably more likely that one of the kids would come flying in the door to ask what was holding them up.
So she handed him the bowl of popcorn and grabbed the five ice-cream-filled mugs by their handles and led the way out the back door.
“So what are we watching?” Toby asked as he settled into the only spot the kids had
left open, which happened to be right beside Angie.
“Star Wars I,” Justin said.
“No, dude, this is Star Wars IV,” Brian said snarkily, as if Justin was an idiot.
“How can it be number IV when this is the first Star Wars they ever made?” Justin challenged back.
Angie quickly explained the nuances of the Star Wars episodes before the boys came to blows across the blankets.
“So you’re both right,” she said.
The boys conceded, going back to their ice cream.
“Is that my bedsheet?” Toby asked as he studied the improvised movie screen nailed to the side of his barn.
“Well, the boys’ sheets are dark blue, and Kylie’s has a My Little Pony print,” Angie defended.
“Why is there a big brown spot on it?” Toby asked, glossing over the fact that the boys had put nail holes into his sheet.
“Justin dropped his end in some manure while I was on the ladder trying to nail it in place,” Brian explained.
“I’m sorry,” Angie said. “I didn’t know they were going to use real nails. And I didn’t realize they’d dropped it in cow... Well, in...you know. I just thought you had stained sheets.”
Toby looked at her as if she’d been the one to drop the manure outside the barn in the first place.
“Did you try the popcorn yet?” she asked, trying to get the conversation heading in a different direction. “I put extra butter on it for you.”
Toby reached into the bowl. “That stain on the sheet makes it look like Luke Skywalker has melanoma on his face.”
“What’s ‘melanoma’?” Brian asked.
“It’s a kind of skin cancer,” Angie answered.
The pillows looked so comfortable. Maybe she could just put her head down for a second and rest her eyes, maybe even doze off for a moment or two.
“My mommy died of cancer,” Justin said.
“Is Luke Skywalker gonna die of cancer, too?” Kylie asked.
Oh, no. Angie hadn’t meant to mention the C-word.
“Nobody is going to die tonight,” Toby said, trying to save the day.
But that didn’t make Angie feel much better. If her brain hadn’t been so sleep-deprived, she might have thought before opening her mouth.
Here she was, trying to do something fun and nice for the family, but then she’d screwed everything up by reminding them of their dead mother.
No matter what she tried to do, it seemed that she only made things worse. Maybe Toby and the kids would be better if she ran for the hills and stayed out of their lives forever.
They’d be better off. But as she scanned the yard, taking in the sweet kids and the handsome cowboy who’d taken them in and given them a home, she wondered how she’d ever just walk away from them without looking back.
Or did she dare risk it all and stick around until she finally got things right?
Chapter Seven
The kids settled back on the blankets to watch the movie. Toby and Angie did, too, stretching out next to each other.
By the time Han Solo was telling Leia that he was in it for the money, Toby leaned over and whispered to Angie, “Is there any more popcorn?”
He hadn’t eaten lunch, so he’d pretty much wolfed down the spaghetti Angie had set out for him, but it really hadn’t quite filled him up.
“I’ll run in and make some more,” she said, getting to her feet.
He hadn’t meant to put her to work. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually, I was about to fall asleep. It’ll help me stay awake.”
Toby followed her into the kitchen. She may not need any help, but he saw an opportunity and decided to take it. With the kids so engrossed in the movie, he didn’t know when they’d get another chance to be alone. And the longer he’d lain next to her, the more he’d craved some one-on-one adult time with her.
When she realized he’d followed her into the kitchen, she said, “I’m so sorry about bringing up the C-word earlier.”
“Don’t even give it another thought. Everyone slips up now and then. Besides, I was the one who brought up melanoma in the first place. And if it makes you feel better, the social worker told me that the kids need to talk about their mom. It’s better for them to process her death in a normal, healthy way. When they lived with their aunt, they saw a bad example of hiding emotions behind the bottle.”
Just thinking about Barbara reminded him of the unsettling conversation they’d had. He’d almost forgotten about it once he’d gotten home. Angie had a way of getting his mind off his trouble, which was one more thing he liked about her.
Should he tell her about the call?
He didn’t consider the idea very long. He didn’t want to dump any more on her than he had to, no matter how easy she was to talk to. She wasn’t in this thing for the long haul anyway.
Besides, why did he want to think about Barbara when he had Angie in front of him now, standing at the stove, heating oil and popcorn kernels in a covered skillet?
When the corn began popping against the lid, she moved the pan across the burner—back and forth, faster and faster—her breasts swaying with the motion.
Aw, man. If he didn’t stop gaping at the mesmerizing sight, those kernels wouldn’t be the only thing popping.
“Is the popcorn done yet?” Justin yelled from the open doorway.
If you were talking about being hot and bothered, Toby was certainly close to done.
“Just about,” Angie called out to the boy. “I’ll bring it out to you in just a minute.”
Justin ran back to the movie, and Toby decided he’d better do the same before his thoughts got the better of him.
A few minutes later, Angie joined them in the yard, bringing the replenished bowl with her and settling back into her spot next to Toby. Even the action scenes, with swishing lightsabers, zooming X-wing fighters and intergalactic battles, didn’t keep Toby from wanting to reach out and grab more than a handful of popcorn.
But he managed self-control.
By the time the credits started to roll, he looked over and saw that Kylie and Justin had fallen asleep.
“I guess we’ll have to carry them in to bed,” he whispered to Angie, who’d nuzzled into the pillow next to his.
But she didn’t answer.
He leaned over and, while tempted to brush back the strands of hair that had fallen across her face and tell her the movie was over, he let her sleep.
Brian, thank goodness, picked up his blankets and pillow and made his way into the house on his own. But Toby had to carry the smaller kids one at a time.
Thanks to Kylie’s overzealous efforts to make them all cozy for the movie, the mattresses were completely bare. Remaking all the beds seemed like way too much work to do. So instead, he went back to the grass, retrieved a couple of blankets and put one over each of the sleeping children.
When he returned outside and saw Angie curled up under the stars, the corner of his comforter tucked under her chin, he stood there and watched her for a while.
Now what? Wake her up? Send her home?
Invite her inside?
He looked back at the house. Considering the bare mattress that awaited him inside, he figured, what the heck.
She looked so soft, so comfortable. Why not let her nap? He could certainly use a little snooze himself.
So he lay down next to her, just as they’d done when the movie had first begun. Then he pulled a blanket over the top of them. Surely one of them would wake up in an hour or so. At that time, they could each go their own way, she to her house and he to his own room.
And no one would be the wiser.
Toby might not be able to invite Angie to actually spend the night in his bed, but this seemed like the next best thing.
* * *
Angie wiggled backward, not quite ready to wake up from her dream.
When had her bed gotten so small and cramped?
Her back was pressed up against a warm wall, her bottom nestled against something hard.
Her waist was tethered down.
She didn’t feel trapped or claustrophobic, though. Nor did she feel compelled to move away. Rather, she snuggled deeper into the cocoon of comfort.
Whatever had been clamped on her waist slowly traveled upward until it reached under her shirt and began to fondle her breast.
Ooh. Nice. She sighed and arched in contentment, her dream getting better by the minute.
A warm breeze whispered along her neck, as lips brushed against the sensitive skin below her ear.
She leaned her head back to provide more access to the mouth that was giving her such delicious pleasure.
Swish.
Swack.
Swish.
What was that flapping sound?
Angie didn’t want to stir, didn’t want to ever wake up, but the annoying sound wouldn’t go away. She cracked her eyes open and saw something big and white floating up in the wind, then smacking down against the side of a huge, red barn.
A barn that looked a lot like Toby’s.
Why was her bed in Toby’s backyard?
Wait. Whose pink-pony-covered pillow was wrapped in her arms?
And whose hand held her left breast? Whose fingers had tightened over her taut nipple?
“You feel good,” a sleep-graveled, baritone voice whispered against her ear.
Toby?
This wasn’t a dream, was it?
Swish. Swish. Splat.
Were those water droplets that just sprinkled her face?
“What the—” Toby shot up, and his hand left her breast. “Oh, hell. The sprinkler.”
Angie stared at Toby through wet lashes, fully awake now and trying to piece together why they’d been sleeping together outdoors, why he’d been holding her so intimately. But more water from a nearby sprinkler shot her in the face again, and Toby grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the house.