by Judi Fennell
“Or an airplane.”
“Or an airplane. Just like they all go to work, I go to your house to work. I don’t live there.”
“But you could. We need a daddy. Grandma said so the last time she and Grandpa came to visit.”
Out of the mouths of babes. And grandparents.
Though, if he were honest with himself, he had to say that he kind of liked the idea.
And that thought seared across his brain, jump-started his nervous system, and buried itself somewhere in his chest cavity. Right near his heart.
Chapter Seventeen
GIVE me the camera.”
“Back off, lady.” Click, click.
The asshole didn’t even stop taking pictures. Beth had a feeling he’d taken them during her entire walk across the park.
“That is my child in those pictures and I won’t allow you to sell those photographs.”
“Her face will be blurred. That’s the way we do it with minors.”
“And mine?”
“Look, lady. Bryan Manley is big news. You’re big news. The two of you together could pay my rent for a year.”
“Rent? This is about your rent?” Beth wanted to rip the camera from this guy’s hands, but she’d get in more trouble for that than allowing pictures of her to surface. She didn’t need a mug shot on top of that. “We’re talking about my family. My privacy. My life. How can you justify your rent for my family? Haven’t you people done enough damage? Do you know what it’s like to have to calm my children down when the cameras won’t stop? Answer their questions about why people won’t leave them alone? And now you’re going to thrust me into the spotlight again?”
“Then you shouldn’t be hanging out with a movie star. Kinda goes with the territory, ya know?”
“I’m not hanging out with him. He works for the cleaning service. He’s doing a job. Leave him alone.”
“Seem awful protective of someone who’s working for you. Like you got something to hide.”
She fisted her hands, trying desperately not to rip his face off. Forget about the camera. She took a deep breath and counted to ten, knowing it’d do no good. Not when he threatened her family.
She tried another tactic. “What’s your name?”
“No way, lady. I’m not telling you that. I don’t need to be sued.”
“Then who are you going to sell these pictures to?”
“Again, not telling you. I don’t need you making any threatening moves before I get paid. Once they’re theirs, sue all you want. I’m in the clear.”
“Not if you touch me you’re not.” In a move even she wouldn’t have expected, Beth ripped her own shirt sleeve and messed up her hair. “One word. One shout from me and this is over. Don’t make me do it.” She had her hands on the waistband of her shorts.
“Jesus, lady, you’re crazy.”
“No, I’m a mother protecting her children. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to save them from the hell you’re about to put them through. Give me the memory card.”
“No way.” He took a step back, thankfully not taking any more pictures.
Beth tugged her shorts and the button popped free. She took a step toward him. “One more step and I start yelling.”
The guy looked hesitant. Good. Let him wonder if she was serious. She wasn’t wondering; she’d do whatever it took to get those pictures and protect her family.
She opened her shorts a little more. “You willing to risk it? I’ve got nothing to lose that you’re not going to lose for me with those pictures.”
The guy looked around as if he was expecting someone to jump out of the trees around them.
Beth took a deep breath, surprisingly calm for what she was about to do. She opened her mouth to scream.
“Don’t.” The photographer choked on the word. “I can’t risk it. My career will be over on the suspicion alone. My wife . . . she’ll leave.”
“Is it worth it? Paying your rent this way? For all you’ll lose?” Beth kept one hand on her shorts and held out the other. “Give me the memory card.”
The guy looked like he was ready to bolt.
“Don’t do it, Steve.”
He looked at her, his eyes wide.
“Steve McAllister. It’s on your camera bag. I can ID you.”
“Shit. Motherfucking shit.”
“Give me the memory card, Steve.” She wanted to keep saying his name; let him know she knew it.
“Fuck.” He looked at the back of the camera. Then at her. Then at the trees behind them.
“Give me the card, Steve, or I scream. Now.” She ruffled her hand through her hair for good measure. “You willing to risk everything?”
“Fuck no, lady.” He opened the camera and took out the card. “Keep your fucking pictures. Your privacy’s toast anyway. Everyone knows who you are. Who your kids are. Who your husband was. You’ll never get any peace.”
She didn’t rise to his bait. She just took the memory card and stuck it inside her bra. Now if he went after it, she really would have something to pin on him.
“If I see you again, I’ll tell your wife you came on to me for a story. I’ll make her believe me; don’t think I won’t.”
She had the satisfaction of watching him blanch. Good. Now he knew what it was like to have his family and his personal life threatened.
• • •
SHE was surprisingly calm as she headed back to the bleachers. She’d worked on her hair, zipped up her pants, but the button was gone and the rip in her shirt was going to be attributed to getting stuck on a tree branch.
“Mommy!” Maggie scrambled off Bryan’s lap and bounded down the bleachers to her. “Can Bryan come to the ice cream parlor with us? Can he?”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Why not? She was looking her worst, feeling grumpy, and her clothes were ripped. Absolutely the best time to be seen out and about with Bryan Manley, who managed to look scrumptious in a uniform that ought to suck his masculinity right out of him.
“Beth? Are you okay?” Bryan walked down after Maggie, concern etched all over his handsome face. And curiosity etched all over Kara and Jenna’s. “Where’d you go?”
“I thought I saw the Dynert’s dog.” Poor Muffy had been missing for over a week. Beth felt bad about using the Dynert’s loss, but she would do anything to protect her family. And that, right now, included Bryan. He didn’t need to know about the photographer.
“Was it, Mommy? Is Muffy coming home?”
She cupped Maggie’s chin, sad to have to tell her daughter yet more bad news. “No, honey, it wasn’t Muffy. I think it was a fox.” A sly, cunning one that she’d outwitted, thank God.
“Oh.” Maggie’s bottom lip quivered. “I miss Muffy. I wish she hadn’t left, too.”
Oh hell. Beth felt about six inches tall. She shouldn’t have used the dog as an excuse, but it was all she could come up with. And even then, she wasn’t sure Bryan completely believed her.
She tugged her shirt down over her missing button. Maggie’s solemn face tugged at Beth’s heart. “We can go looking for her tomorrow if you want.”
“Yes. I’d like that.”
She patted Maggie on the back. “Okay, then. How about we round up the boys and head out for ice cream?”
“That match isn’t over yet,” said Bryan.
Yes, Bryan saw way too much and the look he was giving her said he had questions.
“Oh. Right.” She glanced at the field. Both boys were sitting out right now, so at least she wasn’t missing their playing time. But she couldn’t have risked having the photographer get away with those photos, so if she’d missed them playing for a fraction of one game, she missed it.
More cheers erupted around them while they headed back to the stands and within ten minutes the game was over, the twins’ team had won, and the younger three kids were shouting their ice cream orders at her.
“Hang on, guys, I’m not the waitress. Tell her when we get there.”
“Are you coming
with us, Bryan?” Mark circled his shin guards on the end of one finger.
Beth grabbed them to keep them from flying away. That hard plastic could be painful.
“Yes, Bryan is coming. And I’m sure he’ll order something fabulous, too.” She grabbed the gym bag and stuffed both boys’ shin guards inside.
“Can I ride with you, Bryan?” Tommy asked, running to Bryan’s side without waiting for an answer.
“Me, too!” Mark, of course, joined in.
“Well, I don’t kn—”
“It’s fine with me, Beth.”
“Can I come?” Maggie asked.
“But Maggie, Mom needs kids with her,” said Mark.
“Jason and Kelsey can go with her. They don’t talk anyway so Mom can have her piece of quiet.”
Bryan ruffled Maggie’s hair. “Maybe your mom wants to talk. Maybe you should go with her.”
“But I want to go with you!”
Bryan looked at Beth. “Is that okay with you?”
It was so okay it was almost scary. No, scratch that. It was downright scary. Her kids had glommed onto him like nobody’s business and if she’d wanted this to happen, it wouldn’t have.
Question was, did she want it to now that it had?
• • •
THE love fest only continued at Buster’s Ice Cream Shoppe, with the younger ones clamoring to sit next to him. Beth had had to play referee, since there were only two places beside Bryan, convincing Tommy and Mark to switch off every half hour while the other one sat across from him. This, luckily, kept Kelsey out of the rotation, but her oldest daughter sat at the corner where she couldn’t miss looking at Bryan.
It was an odd thing to feel jealous of your own kids, but Beth did. Bryan was so natural with them, laughing and cracking jokes. He even got Jason to open up about where he’d gotten his hair cut: his girlfriend’s mom.
He had a girlfriend? Beth almost fainted at that news. How had she missed her eldest child reaching that milestone?
God, she felt like such a failure as a parent at times, especially now, watching them all with Bryan. He had a natural affinity for kids and it extended to more than just her kids. She’d watched him when the game had ended and all the kids had wanted to shake his hand. Bryan Manley was someone in this town and they all wanted a piece of him.
As did she.
There, she admitted it. It was hard not to. Bryan was starting to fill most of her thoughts during the day. She woke up thinking about him and went to bed thinking about him—aching for him. Got to watch him work around her home all day. He’d even begun clipping the hedge beneath her kitchen window. She’d argued that it wasn’t part of his job description, but he’d countered with, “Mac says to always make sure the customer is satisfied. So that’s what I’m doing.”
She knew other ways he could satisfy this client . . .
Beth gasped and shoved a big, cold spoonful of dessert into her mouth. The end of this month couldn’t come quick enough.
Because if she kept thinking about things like him satisfying her, she would, too.
Chapter Eighteen
BRYAN showed up early for work the next morning.
And he knew exactly why he’d done it.
These early morning hours were precious in Beth’s home. Usually he used them to redo what he’d done the day before that the kids had undone, but today there was the mess the boys had left as they’d tramped through after the ice cream parlor. If he’d driven them home, he could have done it then, or at least supervised them to not leave a trail behind.
They really needed a father.
He dropped the mop into the water bucket. He was out of his flipping mind to be thinking what he was thinking. Yes, sure, they needed a dad but they did not need him to be that dad. He wasn’t cut out to be a dad.
Yet last night . . . God, it’d been so nice. So fun. Him, Beth, the kids, all chatting at the ice cream parlor. Teasing each other, reliving the highlights from the game. Even discussing the ankle-clipping incident. It’d all been so nice. So normal. Like that time with his brothers and Mac and Gran—
Bryan’s breath hitched. He’d forgotten when Gran had brought them to Papa Gino’s market. A general store with a deli counter, a butcher shop, and a soda fountain. They’d had root beer floats and sat in one of the booths, a treat for “paying folk” as Gran had said. She hadn’t had a lot of money, so those floats had been special.
Bryan could still feel what it was like to be sitting at that table and have the waitress look at him with a kind smile and ask him what he wanted. Liam and Sean had known instantly, but he and Mac had had too many choices to decide so easily. Gran had just smiled and patted his arm and told the server they’d have to think about it some more.
Ah, the patience she’d had in taking on four scared, sad children. Sure she loved them, but it couldn’t have been easy. Widowed without more than her old home to her name, Gran had somehow made do. She’d saved them from the foster system and for that he’d always be grateful. It’s why he was paying the extra it cost at her retirement community for the apartment she’d wanted. No one knew, not Liam or Sean, not Mac, and especially not Gran. The arrangement was between him and the director and he’d bought the unit outright so all Gran had to do was pay for her care. He would have arranged that for her, too, but Gran did have her pride. He knew all about pride.
He swept the mop over the cleat marks on the hardwood and took care of Sherman’s muddy paw prints as well. Even the dog was starting to grow on him.
He sloshed the mop back into the bucket. Two and a half more weeks. How was he going to survive without falling for all of them?
His cell phone rang, thank God, pulling his head back to reality.
It was his agent.
“Hey, Don, what’s up?”
“I got a call that they’re starting the shoot early if they can get enough people on set. You up for it?”
He would be, but that’d mean breaking his commitment to Mac. It’d also mean leaving Beth and the kids. He couldn’t do that.
“I’m committed to this job, Don. Can’t really back out. Is that going to be a problem?”
Uh, hell yeah. You’re putting your career on hold to clean?
“The widow, huh? Anything happening there that I need to know about? I’ve seen some rumblings in the press.”
“You know how the press is. Any story they can find. There’s nothing here.”
Liar.
“Pity. It’d make for good press. You sure you don’t want to start something?”
“You did not just ask me that.” He was surprised. Sure, he knew people planted stories to generate interest to make themselves more marketable, but he’d never done that. Don knew it, too. They’d discussed it. He’d make it in his career on his own merits or he wouldn’t make it, but no way would he ever lie to get ahead.
“Sorry.” Don didn’t sound very sorry. Not that Bryan could blame him, but it was the seedy side of this business. Casting couches were another. Whoever said they didn’t still exist in this day and age hadn’t been around the block enough.
“So I’ll tell PJ you’re out for the early shoot, right?”
Bryan smiled. This was why Don was such a good agent; he wanted clarification on every point from both the studios and his own clientele. His career was in good hands with Don.
“No go, Don.”
“All right, then. Two weeks from Friday you’ll be on set.”
Seventeen days in total. That was all he had left with Beth and the kids. “Yeah, that’s it. I’ll be there then.”
Even if he didn’t want to be.
“Bryyyyyaaaannnn!” Maggie ran across the kitchen floor, her arms outstretched and a smile so big it covered almost her whole face. God, he’d miss this. Miss her. Miss her hero worship of him—but not from his movies or what he did for a living. Maggie loved him because of who he was.
Maggie loved him.
Shit. She did.
Look at that face. Those
bright eyes. The smile that stretched from ear to ear. She’d wanted him to move in. To be her father.
And he was going to leave her.
It wasn’t his fault that she needed a dad. He was here to clean. So he helped out a bit. Had taken to her. Liked her inquisitiveness. Her questions. Her tea parties and her messy drawings. Why did that have to make her love him? Why couldn’t she just enjoy the time and the attention and it’d be no big deal?
Because she was five, she missed her father, and she’d found a substitute right in her very own home, that’s why, moron.
“Will you make me a peanut butter and applesauce sandwich?” She blinked her big brown eyes at him.
Some day she was going to be a heartbreaker. He just hoped to hell that his wasn’t broken when he left because hers was.
He needed to pull away. Not be so involved in the kids’ lives. He had to create that distance so they wouldn’t be upset when he left. Hell, this wasn’t supposed to have happened. He was supposed to have come in, cleaned the house, and gotten out. Live his life away from Mac’s company.
But he’d signed on for extra projects—he was doing the mudroom closets today—to help out “the widow.”
Beth.
Mother of five.
Widowed mother of five.
Sexy widowed mother of five.
Who could drive him insane with just one look.
And with a kiss . . . have him thinking things he’d never thought he’d think.
“You want a sandwich for breakfast?”
“Yep. Daddy liked sandwiches for breakfast. I miss that.”
Another knife to the heart. He could not be Maggie’s dad.
He was going to make her that sandwich, though. “You’re sure you want applesauce on your sandwich? Not apple butter?”
“Apple butter?” Maggie scrunched up her face. “Butter comes from cows, not apples.”
Okay, then. Applesauce it was. He wasn’t about to get into a discussion on butter-making because he had a feeling he’d lose to Maggie’s convictions.
He propped the mop in the bucket and let her lead him by the hand back to the kitchen. So much for detachment.