“We gotcha good,” one of the dervishes said proudly, throwing himself at the man’s knees and hugging him tightly.
“Yeah, we got you real good!” Yelping, the twins jumped in the air. Unwilling to be excluded, the mop of fur began to bark and jump, nearly knocking Rebecca off her feet.
“No,” the man said, pointing to Rebecca with one hand as he corralled the barking, jumping beast with his other. “I believe you got her.” He glared down at the mutt. “Sit, Ruth. Sit!”
The dog immediately obeyed, looking up at Rebecca with sad, soulful eyes.
The two boys, who looked like a matched set, grew still, noticing her for the first time.
“Uh-oh,” one of the twins said, looking first at Rebecca, then at the quickly spreading stain on her new silk blouse.
“Double uh-oh,” the other twin whispered, shifting his pumper squirt gun to his other hand to scrub at his itchy, freckled nose.
“Well, boys,” the man said, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms across his broad chest, “what have you got to say for yourselves?”
The twins exchanged perplexed glances, then shrugged.
“Is this a test?” asked the twin scrubbing his itchy nose. “Cuz we don’t do so good on tests.”
“Yeah,” the other twin added, glancing at Rebecca and flashing her a charming smile. Apparently he’d lost a front tooth somewhere. “We don’t do so good on tests. That’s why we don’t wanna go to school.”
“Yeah, we hate school.” To show solidarity, the boys linked arms. “They have girls there,” the little boy with the itchy nose explained with a scowl. “Yuck. We hate girls!”
“Yeah, girls are yucky.” It was the other twin’s turn to scowl.
“Yeah, well, tell me that in about ten years,” the man said with a laugh, holding up one large hand. “And let’s discuss school at a later time, shall we?”
Jake Ryan glanced at the woman standing in his foyer. He did a quick visual inventory and smiled in approval at her long, leggy frame, the pile of ebony hair that was caught atop her head, and a face and body that would make angels sing. He was surprised that she wasn’t having a hissy fit over her ruined blouse, not to mention the rampaging kids and the marauding dog.
Looking at her, he found his spirits improving considerably. He had to admit that his brother Jared’s taste in nannies was sure improving. Maybe this nanny had a chance. Jake glanced at her slender, delicate frame. Nah, probably not. He sighed. She’d be gone like the wind in a couple of hours, just like all the others.
For the first time, he noticed her eyes, and decided to take another, closer look. Now that he was so near, he could see that those gorgeous blue eyes were red rimmed. She’d obviously been crying. Deep, dark smudges of worry or fatigue shadowed her face.
Obviously this woman had some kind of trouble.
Female trouble.
Uh-oh. A warning bell went off in Jake’s head, and he gave himself a mental shake. No, he wasn’t going to wonder and he wasn’t going to worry. He was done trying to rescue every damn damsel in distress. Once burned, twice shy. Experience had taught him that women were never as vulnerable or as fragile as they looked. Especially beautiful women.
Unfortunately, he’d learned that lesson like all the rest—the hard way.
Intrigued in spite of himself, he continued to stare at her appraisingly. What, he wondered, would a beautiful woman like her have to worry and cry about?
He didn’t know and he wasn’t even going to think about it, he told himself firmly. Beautiful women and their problems were not his problem. Not anymore.
“School sucks,” his nephew Terry announced glumly, earning a cautioning look from Jake.
Jake’s brow rose and he tried not to grin at his nephew’s colorful vocabulary. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry,” Terry mumbled, glancing down at the toe of his dirty sneaker before giving a woeful shrug.
“The dreaded school starts in three months,” Jake whispered to Rebecca by way of explanation. “Kindergarten,” he added, before turning his attention back to the boys. “Now, guys, what do you have to say to…Mrs.?”
“St. John,” she said hurriedly, glancing from the man to the boys with a smile. “Rebecca St. John, and it’s Miss.” She hesitated for a fraction of a moment, heart suspended, wondering if there’d be any recognition.
Even though she bore no resemblance to that terrified seven-year-old girl she had once been, and she’d changed her last name—choosing it from the phone book—once she’d left the orphanage, it was a relief that apparently there was no hint of recognition in this man’s eyes. Clearly, he was one of the Ryans, but she wasn’t certain which. “And really, Mr. Ryan—”
“It’s Jake.” He slid a hand over his tousled hair, then tucked the mask under one arm, along with his own squirt gun, before extending his hand to her. “I’m Jake Ryan, uncle to these two…adorable delinquents,” he added with an irresistible grin.
“Jake.” She forced her smile to remain, though her nerves were scrambling as she reached for his hand.
Jake Ryan.
The rush of feelings that came with recognition surprised her, since it had been so long since she’d allowed herself the luxury of any feeling.
First came the anger, the resentment, and then came the relief that he hadn’t recognized her, that for the moment, at least, she was safe. But that relief was also tinged with fear.
Rebecca struggled to swallow her emotions, to put them back in their guarded place deep inside her heart, where she’d hoarded them all these years.
She hadn’t expected or anticipated an emotional response when she came face-to-face with the Ryans again. She’d been concentrating only on the task confronting her, not considering the emotional consequences.
She’d have to be very careful, she realized, taking a long, slow breath to get her rampaging heartbeat under control. She couldn’t afford to allow her emotions to interfere with what she had to do. She knew better, had trained herself to react differently. She couldn’t afford any slipups or mistakes—not now, not in this. This was far too important.
She had to remain detached and emotionally uninvolved, just as she’d taught herself, if she was ever going to learn the truth about the past.
And her mother.
This would be her only chance.
With clearer eyes, she looked at Jake Ryan carefully.
She remembered him now. The oldest of the Ryan boys. Even as a child there had been something darkly dangerous about him. Something fearless. He’d carried that look, exaggerated now, into adulthood.
His shock of sleek black hair was worn longer than was considered entirely respectable. His shoulders were wide, his chest broad and his waist slim. His legs, long and well muscled, looked as sturdy as tree trunks. The worn, scarred leather cowboy boots only added to his impressive height.
An image from her childhood suddenly flashed before her eyes. She remembered once, on the playground at school, being taunted by a bigger boy who’d teased her about her awful, ugly glasses. Near tears, she’d looked up and seen Jake Ryan, headed in her direction, his three brothers trooping behind him.
Frightened, she’d turned and fled, but not before she heard Jake giving the bully a dressing down.
From that moment on, she’d always thought of him as “the protector” because he was always keeping a keen eye out for his brothers and apparently ready to ride to the rescue of anyone else smaller or weaker.
Another memory surfaced. She recalled he’d been a hellion as a child. Always mischievous and always in trouble, or looking for trouble.
That remembrance almost made her smile, because from the look of him now, he still appeared to be hunting for trouble.
And no doubt he’d found plenty in the ensuing years.
Forcing her nerves to settle, Rebecca took his outstretched hand in hers, then made the mistake of glancing into his eyes. She felt her breath back up in her throat.
Why hadn’t she
remembered he had the most glorious blue eyes she had ever seen? Deep, unbelievably blue, they looked as if they could see deep within her. It almost made her shiver.
Without the mask covering it, his grown-up face wasn’t a hardship, either. Oh, it was rough and rugged, with sharp planes and angles, and a couple of probably hard-earned scars here and there, but the total effect was enough to buckle a woman’s legs. Well, a woman who allowed herself to let her hormones go astray at the sight of a gorgeous man. Rebecca certainly wasn’t about to let something so ridiculous sidetrack her.
Shrugging off her immediate physical response to him, she forced a cool smile and met his gaze as she shook his hand.
“Mr. Ryan—”
“It’s Jake,” he repeated with an easy smile. “And the boys have something to say, don’t you, boys?” he asked, glancing back at his nephews. “Boys?” he prompted.
“This really isn’t necessary.” Rebecca glanced at the twins, who were watching her curiously. “I think I’d better explain why I’m here.”
“It is necessary,” Jake insisted with a grin destined to speed up any woman’s heart. “And I know why you’re here.”
“You do?” That took her by surprise and she blinked up at him. Even in her strappy three-inch heels she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. He had to be at least six feet four inches tall. A very well proportioned six feet four to boot.
He continued to hold her hand, much to her chagrin. She would have felt better if he wasn’t actually… touching her. His hand was strong, warm, callused and incredibly gentle. It was doing unusual things to her normally calm heart.
He nodded. “My brother Jared told me to expect you.”
Relief flooded through her as she slipped her hand free of his. Edmund Barker, the editor in chief of the Saddle Falls News, had promised to call the Ryans and tell them she’d been assigned to interview the entire family for a series of feature profiles to run in the Saddle Falls newspaper during the town’s weeklong golden jubilee celebration, to be held at the end of the month.
With her credentials, Rebecca hadn’t had much difficulty convincing Mr. Barker to let her do the interviews, in spite of the fact that the Ryans were notoriously publicity shy.
She’d merely explained to the gruff, crusty editor that she was on leave from her own paper in Reno due to family business, would be in the area for the next month or so and would welcome an opportunity to do some freelancing.
He’d been thrilled to get a reporter of her caliber even temporarily, and she’d been thrilled to have a cover that allowed her to get close enough to the Ryans to do some digging, and hopefully get to the truth.
“Uncle Jake?” One of the twins gave his uncle a poke in the stomach to get his attention. Reluctantly, Jake turned to the boys. “Grandpop says you’re not s’posed to call us delinquents.”
“Yeah, Uncle Jake.” The other twin scratched his nose again, then looked at up his uncle. “Grandpop sez we’re not delinquents.”
Jake laughed. “Yeah, well, that’s cause Grandpop never has to baby-sit for you two.” He reached out and ruffled their matching mops of gleaming black hair. “Miss St. John, this is Terry,” Jake said with a nod to the boy wearing the blue T-shirt. “And this is Timmy.”
Rebecca made a mental note that Timmy was missing the tooth. Except for their T-shirts, it was the only way she was going to be able to tell them apart.
With a smile, she reached out her hand, taking first Terry’s grubby one and giving it a small shake, then Timmy’s sticky one.
Not to be left out, the mop of fur lifted his paw toward her with a weak bark, making her laugh.
“You too, girl?” With a laugh, she shook the dog’s paw.
“Girl?” The boys broke into giggles. “Ruth’s a boy dog,” Timmy stated in an offended voice.
“Ruth…Ruth is a boy dog?” Confused, Rebecca gazed from the boys to Jake, who merely grinned. “You named a boy dog Ruth?”
“Yep.” It was Terry’s turn to bob his head up and down. He poked his brother with his elbow and they both broke into another fit of giggles. “She thinks Ruth’s a girl dog.”
“Ruth’s a boy. Wanna see?” Timmy asked. “Grandpop showed us how to tell boy dogs from girl dogs.”
“Yeah, we could show you, cuz see, boy dogs have a—”
“Boys, I, uh…don’t think Miss St. John needs an anatomy lesson,” Jake said, trying to suppress a grin as Rebecca turned beet-red. “Ruth stands for Ruthless,” Jake explained with a wiggle of his brows.
“Got it.” She nodded, smiling in spite of the heat suffusing her face.
“Now, boys, what do you have to say to Miss St. John?”
The twins exchanged perplexed glances, then turned to Jake with a shrug.
“Dunno,” Terry admitted, looking at his brother for an answer. None was forthcoming.
“I do believe an apology is in order,” Jake stated with a lift of his brow. “We don’t normally pelt our guests with water when they walk through the door, do we?”
“No sir,” they said in unison, glancing guiltily down at their dirty sneakers before peeking up at Rebecca.
“Well?” Jake waited expectantly.
“We’re sorry,” Timmy mumbled.
“Yeah, sorry,” Terry added glumly.
Timmy looked up at her and Rebecca’s heart melted. “We didn’t mean to squirt you, honest, but we thought you was Uncle Jake.”
“Yeah,” Terry repeated. “We thought you was Uncle Jake.”
Jake groaned. “Boys, boys, boys.” Shaking his head, he corralled them both by their shoulders, then crouched down so he was eye level with them. “Let me give you a bit of advice.” He glanced back at Rebecca and winked. “Never, ever tell a woman you’ve mistaken her for a man.”
“How come, Uncle Jake?” Eyes wide, Terry stared at his uncle in confusion.
“Yeah, how come?” Timmy scowled, his dark brows drawing together over his blue eyes.
Jake laughed again, then shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“You always say that,” Terry complained with a shake of his head that sent his mop of black hair flying.
“Yeah, always.” Timmy mimicked him in disgust.
Trying to head off a conversation about the complexities between the sexes, Jake raised his hand in the air. “Okay, boys, are you hungry? It’s almost lunchtime.”
“Starved.” Rolling his eyes, Timmy clutched his stomach as if he would faint.
Jake laughed at the dramatics. “Okay, we’ll have lunch, but first you’ve got to go get cleaned up.”
“What’s for lunch?” Terry asked, misdeeds forgotten as he grinned up at his uncle.
“Peanut butter sandwiches with Hershey’s chocolate syrup.” Jake tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “What else?”
“Again?” the boys groaned in unison. “You always make us peanut butter and chocolate sandwiches. And we’re sick of it.”
“Yeah, we’re sick of it, Uncle Jake. Can’t you cook us something?” Timmy asked, looking up at Jake with pleading, soulful eyes. “I want hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.”
“He can’t make us hot dogs,” Terry said to his brother with a dramatic sigh. “He can’t cook, remember?”
“Can you cook?” Timmy asked, turning wide, guileless eyes on Rebecca.
Taken aback, she merely stared at the inquisitive imp. “Cook?” she croaked, swallowing hard at the hopeful look on his face.
“Yeah,” Jake chimed in with an almost identical grin. “Can you cook?”
She thought of the pitiful meals she grabbed on the run, the frozen pizzas and TV dinners she consumed while engulfed in a story, wondering if that qualified as cooking.
“Yes…well, I…can cook. A little,” she clarified, as a gleam came into Jake’s eyes. “Very little,” she added, not certain if what she was capable of cooking was suitable for small children to eat.
“She can cook, boys,” Jake anno
unced, as if they’d just won the lottery. “I vote we invite her to lunch.”
“Yeah,” the boys caroled in unison, hooking their arms together. “Let’s invite her for lunch.”
“Wait—I—”
The boys didn’t give Rebecca a chance to protest, but grabbed her hands and fairly dragged her out of the foyer and down the long, wide hall, talking a mile a minute. The mop of fur named Ruth followed, barking and leaping.
Outnumbered, and feeling a bit overwhelmed, Rebecca turned to Jake for help, but he merely grinned at her, apparently not willing or wanting to be any help at all. She scowled at him just as the phone rang and he disappeared into a room off the foyer, leaving her to the mercy of the twins.
“Uncle Jake’s fun, but he can’t cook,” Terry complained, still dragging her along.
“Yeah, just cuz he always ate peanut butter and chocolate sandwiches when he was a kid, he thinks we always gotta.”
“Always,” Timmy said with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“And we’re sick of ’em, right, Terry?”
“Right.”
“You can cook.” Timmy grinned up at her. “We like you.”
Lord, Rebecca thought with amusement, feeling a great welling of sympathy for the females of the world. These two were going to be heartbreakers when they grew up.
They’d dragged her down a long hallway to the back of the sprawling house and the huge, immaculate kitchen that stretched across the entire rear. Done in shades of light peach and green, it was warm and inviting. Rebecca’s reporter’s eye quickly took in every detail.
On the refrigerator various pictures obviously drawn by the boys were held up with cute little magnets with inane sayings on them.
Alongside the drawings were photographs of the boys at various ages, from toddlers right up to the present, along with an assortment of men she assumed were the rest of the Ryan clan.
There was a distinct lack of pictures of females, and Rebecca wondered where the boys’ mother was, but thought it best not to ask. At least not yet.
With Family In Mind (Saddle Falls Book 1) Page 2