by Loree Lough
“I appreciate the offer, but they have Kirk and Stuart, and occasionally, Shamus.” And Nate.
“Yeah, but Stuart isn’t here enough, and Kirk is here too much.” Brett walked around to her side of the table. “This whole house sale thing has been eating at my conscience.”
Funny, I wasn’t aware you had a conscience.
“Let me know how much time you need to get Pinewood into shape. I’ll shave a few bucks off the asking price of the house and ask for a little more time. That’ll appease the buyer and take some pressure off you.”
What had Cora said or done to bring this about?
“What would you say if I hired someone to help with the housework and yard chores?”
I’d say, “Who are you and what have you done with Brett?”
“I’m guessing with Travis leaving for college, the state will send a new kid to take his place,” he continued. “You’ll need time to help him adjust, in addition to your usual duties.”
In all the years she’d known him, Eden had never witnessed Brett do anything without first considering how it might benefit him.
“Wonderful as it all sounds, I can’t afford the added rent you’ll have to charge every month to defray the cost of hiring people to help.”
Brett began to pace the kitchen. “Do you really think that little of me? You think I’d make an offer like that just to take advantage of you?”
There were a dozen things she could say to defuse his claims, but she literally couldn’t afford to rile him.
Brett stopped pacing. “Look, Eden. I’m aware I haven’t been the best landlord, and that I’ve sometimes been unfair, stingy and difficult to deal with.”
Sometimes?
“I’d like to see if Mom is right about this giving-of-yourself stuff. She says it makes people feel good about themselves. I don’t know where else to start.”
At a loss for words, Eden only shrugged.
Brett took a step closer and, hands on her shoulders, licked his lips. “Okay. I can take a hint.”
She looked up into his face, and for a second there, he seemed almost sincere.
“You don’t trust me. I get that. And I have no one but myself to blame.”
Then, in less than a blink, there it was again—the mocking, almost antagonistic glint she’d come to recognize as his only genuine character trait. Eden had no idea what he hoped to gain from his offer, and she didn’t want to find out.
“It’s a generous offer,” she said, “but I’m so stuck in my ways and persnickety, I’d make a housekeeper or yard crew so miserable, they’d quit the first day.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He took a step back. “I’ll see myself to the door.”
Eden followed him to the foyer, where Brett paused on the threshold.
“Let me know how much time you need to bring your grandparents’ place up to code, so I can give my buyer some kind of time frame.”
“Okay.”
She leaned onto the porch, looking for his car. But Brett pocketed both hands and walked, head down, across the lawn. Had he wrecked the vehicle? she wondered.
The towels would have to wait. She needed to do something physical, something that would help her work out her agitation. That way, if the boys asked about her flushed cheeks, she could blame the exertion. In the laundry room, she filled her garden bucket with tools and carried them outside. After the boys turned in, she’d call Nate. It was time to get them out of this place, and the sooner the better. It meant setting aside her pride and working out a deal that wouldn’t insult Nate or leave her feeling beholden to him.
Like it or not—and she did not—she needed to trust that he was every good thing he seemed to be.
Because if she found a Brett Michaels hiding under his caring, gentlemanly facade, it would break her heart.
*
NATE DECIDED IT was high time to repeat his offer. He didn’t like thinking that embarrassment or fear had left Eden twisting in the wind. The way he saw it, the loan was a good thing for everyone concerned. Cora’s warning had fused itself to his brain, and he couldn’t stop worrying that at any moment, Michaels might boot Eden and the boys to the curb.
He deliberately arrived midway between lunch and suppertime so that Eden wouldn’t feel obliged to feed him. Again. Memories of how she’d felt in his arms out there on the dance floor had been cause for much speculation at the Double M. Hard as it was to admit, they’d been right: He had started falling for her.
Why not give in to it? If ghosts from her past rose up to haunt her, maybe he could help.
The decision felt good. So good that on the way to Latimer House, he stopped at a corner flower mart, grabbed a pretty bouquet and hoped the boys had been right when they’d said daisies were her favorite.
Parking out front, as usual, he made his way up the walk, where flower beds, hanging baskets and plants that spilled artfully from heavy urns on each side of the front door showed further proof of her constant care. The door’s brass hinges and knob gleamed, and he wondered if the woman ever slept.
The money-stuffed envelope in his shirt pocket crinkled as he transferred the flowers to his left hand. Instead of the first notes of the Westminster chimes, Nate heard a dull thunk. Probably nothing more than a loose wire, easily fixed with a screwdriver.
Nate followed the flagstone path that led to the back of the house and, rounding the corner, he saw Kirk and the boys at the far end of the yard. Red-faced and sweating, they were so focused on drills that they didn’t see him. It seemed providential, since now he and Eden could discuss his investment in Pinewood without interruption.
The interior door to the mudroom was ajar, no doubt to encourage cross ventilation. If that cheapskate Michaels would fork over a few bucks to have the antiquated air-conditioning system repaired, everyone at Latimer House would rest easier.
He hid the flowers behind his back and prepared to knock. Quiet voices coming from the kitchen stopped him. One belonged to Eden, he knew that much. But the other…
Brett Michaels? Why hadn’t he seen the guy’s sleek sports car out front?
Nate peered inside, and saw them, wingtips to sneakers and locked in deep conversation.
The jealousy swirling in his gut made no sense. It had been easy to believe her when she’d said Michaels was her landlord and nothing more. The guy made her life miserable, after all, threatening the boys’ security.
Nate sat on the top step, the bouquet dangling blossoms-down between his knees, free hand clapped to the back of his neck. He’d never even kissed her, so why did it bother him, seeing her toe to toe with Michaels?
Behind him, he heard footsteps, retreating down the hall. When Eden and Michaels reached the door, would she kiss him goodbye?
The daisy petals trembled, and he clasped the stems so tightly that a few drops of water seeped from the wrapper and landed on the toe of his left boot.
Out in the yard, the boys were running plays now, but the boxwood hedge planted around the yard hid him from view. A good thing, since he probably looked as if he’d been mowed down by one of their maneuvers.
He could count on one hand the number of times he’d cried since reaching manhood, and have fingers left over. Thomas strolled up and sat down beside him. “I hate football.”
“It’s a rough sport.”
“Yeah, but that isn’t why I hate it. I don’t like being hit. Or hitting people.”
He’d overheard a couple of the boys say that Thomas’s mother had died in prison, and that his father had put him in numerous dangerous situations. It was hard enough wrapping his mind around the fact that a parent could desert his own child, but learning that the boy might also have been physically abused only heightened Nate’s contempt of the man.
“Guess you’re real glad, then, that everyone here likes and respects you.”
Thomas’s eyes widened. “They do?”
“’Course they do. You probably can’t see it because you live with them. We tend to overlook things we see
every day. But I noticed.”
Thomas glanced into the yard, where his housemates laughed and hollered as they mimicked Kirk’s moves. “Well, maybe.” On his feet, he said, “I need to get my chores done.”
“See you later, then.”
Thomas paused just inside the screen door. “I notice things, too.”
Nate turned to get a better look at the kid.
“If you’re sad because you think Eden doesn’t like you, well, you’re wrong.”
With that, he disappeared inside.
Nate had no idea what Thomas had seen to inspire such a comment, but he knew he’d do everything in his power to protect these kids. The money in his pocket would help her turn Pinewood into a home that no one could ever sell out from under them.
As he got to his feet, the back door opened with a whoosh, and out stepped Eden, wearing jean shorts and a sleeveless white shirt.
“Hey there!” he said as she plowed right into him.
If he hadn’t gathered her close, she might have fallen down the back steps. Eden met his eyes, a grateful smile turning up the corners of her mouth. Had she looked at Michaels this way a few minutes ago? If you want something bad enough, his grandpa had advised back when donning a major-league uniform had seemed impossible, you’ll fight for it. Nate had taken the advice, working harder than he had in his life. Hours in the gym, sacrificing soft drinks and pizza, paid off, because he made the team. Was it crazy to want to fight that way…for Eden?
“Wow,” she said, pointing at the garden tools that had tumbled to the flagstone walk. “It’s a good thing you were out here, or that’s where I’d be.” Using a fingertip, she turned his head gently. “Look what my big hard head did to your chin. How will you explain that to your family?”
“Same way you’ll explain the goose egg on your forehead.”
Eden stepped back and adjusted the hem of her blouse. “It’ll be better before I’m married.” She bent to grab the handle of her bucket.
“My grandmother used to say that,” he said, passing her the clippers and shears that had landed on the stairs.
Eden picked up the flowers he’d brought, spent a moment tidying the stems and petals. “Another casualty of my klutziness,” she said, holding out the spray. “Sorry.”
“Those are for you.”
Nate hoped she wouldn’t ask why he’d bought them. “Because the boys said they’re your favorite” or “I saw them and thought of you” sounded even more idiotic than the jealousy he’d felt seeing her with Michaels.
“But now that I compare them to these—” he swept his arm to encompass the colorful, healthy plants lining the back walk “—I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“You’d think something this pretty would have a powerful fragrance, wouldn’t you?” She stuck her nose into the bouquet. “I’ve never had any luck growing daisies, so thank you. They’re beautiful.”
He went back to retrieving tools, and she said, “I’ll get those later. Can you come inside for a minute? I’d like to get these into water and show you something.”
Once inside, she poured him a glass of lemonade. “Check out the boys’ bulletin board,” she said, grabbing a vase from under the sink. “A and B-plus essays, all written about you and the Double M.”
Nate stepped up and read the titles. “How to Saddle a Horse.” “A Clean Bunkhouse Is a Happy Bunkhouse.” “Fail-safe Way to Feed a Sugar Cube to Horses.”
He turned to Eden. “All this from what they picked up Memorial Day and the Fourth?”
“Amazing, isn’t it, especially when half the time, it sometimes seems like they’re not even listening.”
“And what’s this one, a thank-you note?”
“Travis wrote it, and Silas typed it up,” Eden said, arranging the flowers in a yellow vase. “I suggested mailing it, but they wanted you to pick it up here.”
Nate plucked the thumbtack from the cork, grabbed the paper and read aloud:
Dear Nate,
We know that most people think that because we got a rough start in life, we’ll never amount to much. It’s people like you and your family who let us know that the only real limitations in life are those we put on ourselves.
Thanks for teaching us so many life lessons, and for showing us a good time, too.
We’re real lucky to have met you, and real proud to call you our friend.
And it was signed by the boys—and Eden and Kirk.
“Man,” Nate said, waving the note, “it’s a good thing I’m not the sensitive type, ’cause a thing like this could put a tear in a man’s eye.”
Eden headed into the mudroom. “Would you mind very much setting the table while I pick up those tools?” In the doorway, she added, “Unless you can’t stay…”
He shouldn’t. There had been another cougar attack on a neighbor’s ranch, and he needed to check the herds. And yet he heard himself say, “I can.”
Moments later, when she returned to the kitchen, Nate said, “So what was Michaels doing here earlier? Moving up your move-out date?”
“Not exactly.” Frowning, she sighed. “I don’t understand how a guy like that came from a woman like Cora. The only thing they have in common is their last name.”
“I think I have the solution to his threats.”
“Threats,” she echoed. “I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but I guess that’s exactly what they are.”
Nate held out the envelope.
“What’s that?”
“My donation to Latimer House. Or Pinewood. So you can get out from under that idiot’s thumb, once and for all.”
Eden stared at the bills, then met his eyes. “Nate, that’s far more than we need. I can’t ask you to—”
“Seems to me we’ve been down this road already. You didn’t ask. I offered. It isn’t a loan, remember, it’s a contribution.”
The cheerful sound of the boys grew louder, telling him the football game had ended and they were heading inside to clean up for supper.
“We’ll wrap this up later,” he said, sliding the envelope back into his pocket as one by one, the teens bulldozed into the room, laughing and high-fiving on the way to the fridge.
Kirk sidled up and whispered to Nate, “Need a word with you, if you have time after supper.”
He didn’t. But he said, “Let me make a phone call, make sure Carl has things under control.” Rising, Nate put his cell phone to his ear and stepped onto the back porch.
“Hey, boss, what’s up?”
“Just checking in. What’s the latest?”
“Told the hands what you said, and sent four of ’em out in the Jeeps, armed with binoculars and rifles. They have radios, too, so if they see something, I’ll be the first to know.”
“I’ll be back before dark,” he said. “Call me if anything happens.”
Both men knew what that meant: if one of the hands saw the cougar, he would shoot to kill.
“You got it, boss,” Carl said, and hung up.
Nate didn’t like the way things were unfolding. That cat should have moved on by now. The fact that it hadn’t told him it saw the Double M as a reliable food source, that it was probably a female with kittens to feed. It seemed a crime against nature to kill her, but she hadn’t left him any options. If it came down to protecting the cat or defending every living being that called the Double M home…
The sound of clattering plates and flatware drew his attention inside. Nate pocketed the phone and headed back into the kitchen, where Eden was setting the table.
He stepped up to the sink to wash his hands. “Where is everybody?”
“Taking showers, doing chores, completing their reading assignments.”
“Good. I want to pick up where we left off.” He sat at the table, and patted the empty space to his right.
She gave him a look that said, “I have a dozen things to do,” but sat beside him.
He slid the fat envelope from his shirt pocket, laid it on the table, and covered it with his hand.<
br />
“Nate, I—”
“Humor me, will ya? Now, promise me that you won’t say anything until I’m finished. I have a one-track mind, and interruptions tend to derail me.”
“Okay,” Eden said, biting her lip.
“First of all, let me repeat—this is not a loan. It’s a straight-up donation. In a way, it’s an investment and insurance, because once you bring Pinewood back to its former glory, it’ll mean no one can ever threaten the boys’ stability again.”
He slid the envelope directly in front of her.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He lifted her chin. “Say you’ll find a safe place to keep it until you need it for a contractor, new appliances and other repairs.”
“A safe place?” She sighed. “Is there such a thing these days?”
“Would you feel more comfortable if I held on to it? Say the word and name the amount you need, and I’ll be right over to deliver it.” He grinned. “Probably at mealtime.”
Eden focused on something beyond his left shoulder. Was she considering her options, or wondering just how easy—or difficult—it might be to wait for him to dole out the money?
“The contractor you recommended…do you think he’ll meet with me later this week?”
“I’ll give him a call, have him get in touch with you so you can set up a time that works for both of you.” Nate slid the envelope back into his pocket. “Okay if I give him your cell number?”
“Of course.”
Nate couldn’t pinpoint the change in her expression. Anger? Fear? Shame?
“Thank you doesn’t begin to cover what I feel.”
“No thanks necessary. I like those kids.” And I like you. “I’m glad I can help out a little.”
“A little?” Eden laughed. “I took a writing class a few years ago,” she said, “and the instructor stressed two things, over and over.”
“Oh?”
“One, don’t undervalue your contributions.”
She leaned in close, real close.
“And what’s number two?”
“Show,” she whispered, “don’t tell.”
Eden pressed her lips to his, a lingering, heart-pounding kiss that left him breathless, wanting more.