by Donna Alward
“Who’s looking after who?”
He was gazing at her keenly. She had sounded way too much like she cared. He was a tyrant, obviously. He’d waltzed in here and completely taken over. She couldn’t just let him!
“I don’t want to get sued. After infection sets in and your finger falls off. Then you sue me, and at your recommendation, I’ve lose the funding from the Hansen Community Betterment Committee.”
“I haven’t decided about a recommendation to the HCBC. Yet.”
“And please don’t alienate all my volunteers.”
“I couldn’t alienate your volunteers if I tried, and believe me, I did. But oh, no, they came around the barn after me, promising me cookies, brownies and roast beef dinner. And talking about what a nice girl you are. And available. ‘What a shame. No boyfriend. And so pretty, too.’”
“I don’t have a boyfriend because I don’t want one,” Nora told him, and felt a crimson blush go up her cheeks.
“Some jerk broke your heart,” Brendan said, and his tone was light, but his eyes were not. They darkened with a menace that made her gasp.
He was seeing way too much, and it had to stop!
“Get out of my room. I need to shower and get dressed.”
He sighed theatrically. “It’s as hard to pry information out of you as it is out of your nephew. Do you need help?”
Her mouth fell open. She gasped like a fish on a bank.
He laughed, backed into the hall, his hands in cowboy surrender, and shut the door. But he had to get in the last word.
“If you’re dizzy or feel like you’re going to vomit, call me. Even if you’re naked.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
NORA WAS GLAD Brendan Grant was on the other side of that door and couldn’t see her face. Even if she was naked?
He was trying to shock her, and she was not going to give him the satisfaction of responding.
“Especially if you’re naked,” he called through the door.
So much for not giving him satisfaction. Nora picked up her shoe from where he had pulled it off her foot last night. She hurled it at the door and heard his hoot of pleasure that he had gotten to her.
She looked around her bedroom. Her world felt like a big mess, with chaos everywhere! Even her beautiful Egyptian cotton sheets, one of the things she had treated herself to before she became guardian to a very expensive fifteen-year-old, were dirty. Her sense of messiness increased when she went into the en suite bathroom and saw herself in the mirror.
Her hair, face and clothes were smudged with mud. She looked like a terrible cross between a cast member of Oliver and, with the lump rising over her eye, Quasimodo. Luckily, she told herself, she was not in the market for a man, and especially not a man like the one who had totally invaded her world.
Still, it did not feel lucky at all that that man was intent on invading her world when she looked like this! Somehow around a guy like that, a woman—any woman, even one newly sworn to fierce independence—wanted to look her best.
She desperately needed these moments to collect herself. The water of the shower was an absolute balm. She told herself it wasn’t weakness that made her apply the subtlest hint of makeup. It was an effort to regain some confidence. And hide her bruises. And erase first impressions!
After showering and applying makeup, with far more care than she would have wanted to admit, Nora chose a flattering shirt, short-sleeved and summery as a nod to the sun finally making an appearance, and designer jeans, remnants of her old life when she’d bought designer things for herself and never worried about money.
She convinced herself the makeover worked. She convinced herself she felt like a new woman.
She felt ready to battle for her independence! Ready to fight any inclination to lean on another!
Brendan was alone in her kitchen. She paused in the darkness of the hallway before he knew she was there.
Despite her vow to be unaffected by him, it was hard not to take advantage of that moment to study him.
There was no doubt about it. Brendan Grant was a devastatingly attractive man with that dark hair and matching eyes, the slashing brows and straight nose and strong chin. He radiated a subtle masculine strength, a confidence in himself that was not in any way changed by the fact he was in a wrinkled shirt or his hair was roughed or the planed hollows of his cheeks were darkening with whiskers.
The annoying fact was her kitchen was improved by a man standing at the counter, supremely comfortable in his own skin, eating cookies.
“Sorry,” he said, when he saw her. “I helped myself.”
“No, that’s good. I should have told you to make yourself at home.”
But she was stunned by the longing that statement awakened in her. A man like this making himself at home? The image somehow deepened her definition of home, made it richer and more complex, and filled her with yearning.
She recouped quickly. “Speaking of which, you need to go home. You must be exhausted. And want a shower. And a change of clothes. And don’t you need to check on your grandmother?”
“But who is going to make sure you don’t do anything you’re not supposed to do?”
“Luke will. Where is Luke?”
Brendan nodded toward the living room, and she went and peeked. Luke was sitting on the sofa, feet on the coffee table, head nodding against his chest. Charlie was sprawled out across his belly, kneading, the way contented cats do. The kitten was perched on his shoulder, batting at a strand of his hair, and Luke swatted it as if a fly was bothering him in his sleep.
“If only such cuteness could last,” she said ruefully.
Brendan came and stood beside her. She could feel his presence, even though he didn’t touch her, energy tingling off him.
“Ditto for Charlie,” he said. “It’s not as if he’s a nice cat. He’s waited under Deedee’s sofa and attacked my ankles. You think that doesn’t make you nervous?”
Brendan chuckled. And so did Nora. It was a small thing. A shared moment of amusement. It made her need to get rid of him even more urgent.
As if he sensed the danger of the moment as acutely as she had, he frowned. “Charlie seems way better than he was last night. Are you, er, doing something?”
“No. There’s nothing to do, I’m afraid. How old is he?”
“Seventeen, I think.”
“That’s pretty old for a cat,” she said carefully.
“I think so, too. Unfortunately, Deedee has a friend whose cat made it to twenty-three.”
“I wouldn’t tell her Charlie is feeling better,” Nora suggested.
She knew it was an opportunity for him to make a crack about her missing an opportunity to get some more money out of Deedee, but he didn’t take it.
“Okay, I won’t tell her. Though it is obvious, even to me, a tried-and-true cynic, that he is feeling better.” He added, “I’m going. Do not do a single thing today. Do you hear me?”
“Are you always so masterful?” she said, raising an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Why?” he asked softly. “Do you like masterful?”
“No!” She’d better be careful. She didn’t have a shoe handy to throw. Instead, she quickly changed tack. “I’ll catch up on some of my inside things.”
She was giving in just a little, to make him go.
“You’re not even supposed to read. Except your symptom sheet, which tells you not to read. And don’t use the computer. No answering Ask Rover.”
She stiffened. “What do you know about Ask Rover?”
“There were some letters beside your bed.”
“You read my mail!”
“It was lying out. I had to think of a way to stay awake. Sorry.” He didn’t sound contrite.
She hated that he knew.
And then she didn’t.
Because he said, “I liked the first response better. The dog knew the guy was a jerk.” And Brendan smiled at her, as if he actually liked it that she was Ask Rover. “Is that the one you’ll use? About biting him where it counts?”
Nora could feel her face getting very red. That had not been meant for anyone to see.
“No,” she said, “it won’t be.”
“That’s a shame.”
And it sounded as if he meant it!
“I’ll be back,” he said.
“No!”
That sounded way too vehement.
“You’ve done enough,” she amended hastily. “I’m very appreciative. Really. But I can take it from here.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, without an ounce of conviction. He gave her one long look, and then patted her shoulder and was gone.
And suddenly she was alone, in a house that was changed in some subtle and irrevocable way because he had spent the night in her bedroom and eaten cookies at her kitchen counter.
And just as she had a secret side that answered letters to Ask Rover exactly the way she wanted to, she had a secret side that listened to his car start up and said, Usually when a man spends the night something a little more exciting happens! Maybe next time.
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” she informed her secret side.
But, of course, there was. Because he had said he was coming back, and he did. One of the volunteers must have told him when they did evening chores and feeding, because he was there promptly at seven. Nora peered out the living room window at him getting out of his car.
He was dressed more appropriately, in a plaid jacket, and jeans tucked into rubber boots. Really, the ready-to-grub-out-pens outfit should have made Brendan less attractive. And didn’t. At all.
Nora breathed a sigh of relief when he made no move toward the house. Luke, bless his heart, was already at the barns. She was glad to be rid of him, too. He had absolutely hovered all day, Charlie in his arms and Ranger on his heels.
She knew, somehow, she should have insisted he take the cats with him when he went to do chores, and leave them in the barn, but she hadn’t.
Charlie didn’t like her, and had retreated under the sofa as soon as Luke left, then slunk off up the stairs, probably to Luke’s room. It didn’t matter. She didn’t have to lay her hands on him to know his life force was leeching out of him. The antics of the kitten entertained her, but didn’t occupy her enough for her to outrun her own thoughts.
Which let her know her relief that Brendan had headed for the barns instead of the house was pretended relief. Part of her wanted him to come up here. Which probably explained why she was still in the designer jeans and top, and not her pj’s despite a full day of doing nothing.
Unless you counted catching up on movies. She scowled at the TV. Since he’d arrived—since she knew he was out there—she had no idea what was going on in the movie.
Then she heard them coming. She felt like a high school girl waiting for her prom date. She checked her buttons. Ran a hand through her hair. Tried to pull her bangs over the bump on her forehead. She tried to decide how to sit so that it looked as if she was completely surprised and a little bored by the fact Brendan was coming to her house.
Luke let him in, so he didn’t knock.
And then he was standing there, filling her space, gazing at her, and her silly heart was beating way too hard.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
If she told him the truth about her racing pulse, she’d probably be whisked off to the hospital, just as Deedee had been. “Bored.”
He looked past her to the TV. “What movie?”
Why hadn’t she thought of that when she was preparing to see him again?
She snapped it off. “Something silly. I just turned it on to keep from going crazy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s that pirate one,” Luke said, coming back with Charlie. “It’s for babies, but she’s seen it three times. Because of Johnny Jose.” He rolled his eyes disparagingly.
Brendan’s lips were twitching as if her crush on Johnny Jose was amusing. “So you’re feeling all right? No signs of dizziness? Not feeling sick?”
“I’m fine.” If he said uh-huh she was going to scream. Instead he stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels and studied her. She tilted her chin defiantly.
“This is cool, Auntie Nora. Brendan gave the old lady a tablet so she can see some video of Charlie while she’s in the hospital.”
How, exactly, could you steel yourself against something like that?
Or what followed. Luke put down Charlie, got out a piece of string and tied a lump of hay to it. “This is a mouse,” he narrated. Then he pulled it across the floor.
The black-and-white kitten exploded across the room after the hay. Luke shouted with laughter. It was the most animated she had seen her nephew in a long, long time. And then he went and dangled the string in front of the couch, where Charlie had retreated.
A ginger paw came out and swatted. Then swatted again. Then both paws shot out, and Charlie grabbed the “mouse” with such strength he pulled it from Luke’s hand, yanking it under the couch with him.
Brendan lowered the phone that he had been recording the scene with, and stared at the place where Charlie had disappeared. “That is like the old Charlie,” he said uneasily, “the one who likes to attack ankles.”
“Did you get it?” Luke asked, then sighed. “Not that Mrs. Ashton will be able to figure out how to open it. Auntie Nora wouldn’t be able to.”
Why don’t you just tell him all my secrets? Crush on Johnny Jose. Computer illiterate. Ask Rover. He’s going to know me better than I know myself if this keeps up.
Brendan still looked faintly dazed. “I’ll go see Deedee and make sure she got it. I can show her on my phone if she didn’t figure it out. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow for chores.”
Nora opened her mouth to protest. First, she didn’t think it was a good idea for him to show that footage to Deedee. Second, she didn’t think he should come back here.
But she saw Luke’s quick look of pleasure before he masked it by snaring the mouse from under the couch and getting Ranger going again.
He liked Brendan. He wanted to believe the cat was getting better. Couldn’t she just let life ride, for once?
“Good job with the horses,” Brendan said to Luke. “Remember not to let your aunt anywhere near them. And be sure and check her one more night. Can you do that?”
“You had me at the deadly part,” Luke said, glancing up from the kitten, and he and Brendan exchanged a grin.
Three days later, Brendan was still showing up to do chores. Nora had started to do a pretty good job of hiding out, which was necessary because chores always finished with Brendan and Luke coming to the house to produce a new video of Charlie. Not only was the aging cat alive and well, but he seemed to be improving.
Deedee was home from the hospital, but confined to bed. She was so impressed with the changes in Charlie she hoped to leave him at Nora’s Ark a bit longer.
But enough was enough! Nora was completely recovered. Really, there had been nothing to recover from.
A whole lot of fuss about nothing.
And she’d had enough of hiding out in her own home. It was time to tell Brendan Grant, nicely, that he had to exit her life. Goodbye. Nice meeting you. Get lost. Could he take Deedee’s cat home to her at the same time?
Charlie was in the house. Luke was getting way too attached to him—he seemed to like him even more than the kitten—and Nora seemed to be the only one determined to remember that there was going to be no happy ending for the old cat.
It was way too obvious to her that there were no happy endings, period, and it was a
crazy thing to hope for.
She wasn’t hiding out today. She was waiting in the living room, her plan firmly in place. She was getting rid of them—the cat and Brendan Grant. And at the same time, she was getting rid of this part of her that wanted so desperately to attach itself to the possibility of happy endings.
She rehearsed from the moment she heard his car. Thanks so much. Quite capable. Very independent. Lots of volunteers. No room for the cat. Vamoose, both of you.
And then the door opened, and Luke and Brendan didn’t come into her space so much as they spilled into it, like sunshine piercing the dark. Brendan’s head was cocked to Luke. She heard his low laugh at something her nephew said.
Her plan faltered.
Brendan Grant was here to help. She wasn’t sure if he had intended to help her nephew, but it was certainly a possibility. Look how good he was with his grandmother. Still, whether it had been his intention or not, she saw subtle changes in Luke with this positive daily male influence.
When, she wondered, had she become this woman? So interested in protecting herself that she thought she didn’t have to show one speck of gratitude to someone who was helping her. And helping that tiny two-person unit that was her family.
She was Luke’s main role model. She had a responsibility. Was that what she wanted to teach him about life? Protect yourself at all costs?
So what if she found Brendan attractive? Surely she could control herself! It would be akin to meeting Johnny. You wouldn’t be helpless. You wouldn’t throw yourself at him. You wouldn’t embarrass yourself or him.
You would act as though your heart was not beating a mile a minute. As though you were a mature woman capable of great grace and confidence.
You would step up to him and look him in the eye. And smile.
“Hi, Brendan,” she heard herself say, calm and mature, a woman she could be proud of. “Thanks so much for all your help around here. I really appreciate it.”
That would have been good enough. More than good enough.
So why did she have to add, “I made lasagna tonight. There’s extra. Do you want some?”
“Aunt Nora makes the best lasagna. Lots of cheese,” Luke said, and his hope that Brendan would stay was somehow heartbreaking.