About That Man

by Sherryl Woods

  Will Bryson clearly sensed that Daisy was trying to put a damper on his prospective client’s enthusiasm. As laid-back as anyone in Trinity Harbor usually, he suddenly became a whirlwind of facts and figures and potential repair costs. Daisy was pretty sure he was underestimating by several thousand dollars, if not tens of thousands.

  “So, you want to make an offer?” he concluded, when he’d just about run out of breath.

  “Give me an hour,” Gail said, eyeing the house with longing. “I’ll call you.”

  “You’re not serious,” Daisy said when they were back in her car. “I never thought you’d take it this far.”

  “Well, I am. This is exactly what I’ve wanted to do, and now’s the perfect time,” Gail said. “Let’s get back to your place. I need to see my husband.”

  “You’re not going to take him over there, are you?” Daisy asked, trying to envision what Andy’s reaction would be to that dilapidated horror. She didn’t know him well enough to guess.

  “Heavens, no,” Gail said, then winked. “I’m taking him straight back to our motel room. Then we’ll go take a look at the house.”

  Daisy regarded her with new respect. When it came to persuasion, obviously this was someone who could give her a few lessons. “Good luck.”

  “Oh, sweetie, luck won’t have anything to do with it,” Gail said.

  Daisy wondered if there was any chance that she would ever, ever have that kind of confidence. She thought of the way Walker could rattle her with a look, and sighed. Not a chance.

  17

  The whole darn town was falling into the hands of Yankees! King listened in disgust as Will bragged about his big sale over the weekend to a crazy woman from Washington, who intended to open a bookstore and coffee shop in the old Kincaid cottage.

  “Who the hell needs a coffee shop in Trinity Harbor?” King grumbled. “What’s wrong with Earlene’s?”

  His friends rolled their eyes.

  “Earlene does a lot of things well, but brewing a decent cup of coffee isn’t one of them,” Pete said, shuddering as he took another sip. “Tastes like battery acid.”

  “How would you know what battery acid tastes like?” King retorted, regarding Pete with disgust. “I don’t care what you say. This coffee shop business sounds like a lot of yuppified nonsense to me. Next thing you know somebody’ll come along and open one of them fancy boutiques with clothes by some foreigner. Give me a plain old T-shirt and jeans from a Wal-Mart store. That’s good enough for me. So’s Earlene’s coffee.”

  “Notice you didn’t say anything about the bookstore part,” Pete said.

  “Probably because the only thing King reads are cattle futures and feed and grain reports,” Will commented.

  At the mention of feed and grain, Donnie’s face perked up. The man had a single-track mind, in King’s opinion. If it didn’t have to do with oats and hay or females, Donnie didn’t have much use for it.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with reading about feed and grain,” Donnie said, jumping to King’s defense.

  “It’s not exactly intellectual,” Pete countered.

  “I wonder if she’ll have a magazine section,” Donnie said, his expression hopeful.

  “If she does, I’ll bet she won’t carry Playboy, so you can forget about it,” Pete said.

  King scowled at the lot of them. Somehow the conversation had gotten off-track. The point was this shop was going to be run by a Yankee.

  “Let’s get back to that book business,” he said. “I’ll have you know I read a great book about Robert E. Lee just last week. Now there was a fine gentleman. Came from right up the road. Understood about roots and history, too.”

  His friends groaned. “Don’t you think it’s time to stop fighting that war, King? It’s over. The Yankees won,” Pete said.

  “Not around here, they didn’t. I’ve still got my land, don’t I? No Yankee ever set foot on it, and none will.”

  “I thought that Walker fella was over there just the other day,” Will said.

  “That doesn’t count,” King said. “I have to keep an eye on him, don’t I?”

  “I thought Daisy was the one doing that,” Pete said, with a guffaw that had King seeing red.

  That man had caused him more trouble lately, but darned if he could see any way to get Walker Ames out of town for good. Frances kept putting him off. Daisy flat-out ignored him. Anna-Louise gave him a sermon, instead of taking action. And Tucker insisted that the man hadn’t broken a single law.

  Maybe it was time King just laid it all on the line and told Walker Ames he needed to take his nephew and go before he ruined Daisy’s reputation and broke her heart to boot. Man to man, that was the way to get things done.

  He considered calling him right this second, but thought better of it. A conversation like this needed to happen face-to-face. You could tell a lot by looking straight into a man’s eyes, and he wanted Walker to know he was dead serious about this.

  Saturday would do. He’d be waiting for Walker when he got to Daisy’s. He’d need to find some way to get her and the boy out of the house, but that shouldn’t be too difficult unless she figured out what he was up to. Then there would probably be hell to pay, but it was a risk King was willing to take. After all, it was his duty to protect his daughter, even if she couldn’t see that she needed protecting.

  There had already been a few rumblings from the parents in town that she was setting a poor example by letting a strange man live with her. Once those rumblings got to that weasel of a principal, things were likely to get blown out of all proportion. King doubted the man would have the backbone to stand up for Daisy.

  King knew he would have to spend a little time thinking about the best approach, the one likely to guarantee the best results. Persuasion was a tricky business, but King had had a lot of practice.

  And if persuasion failed, there was always his trusty old shotgun. There wasn’t a man alive who couldn’t be made to see reason when he was staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

  To his astonishment, Walker found himself beginning to enjoy his weekly visits to Trinity Harbor. Okay, the truth was, what he really enjoyed was flustering Daisy. The woman was an intriguing mix of pure innocence and wicked temptation. He was beginning to wonder if he could manage to drag this arrangement out all summer long. Maybe longer.

  And now that Gail had somehow persuaded Andy to buy a property so she could open a shop once she talked him into retiring, he had even more reason to stick around. He’d give anything to know how that had come about, but Andy was tight-lipped on the subject. In fact, Walker thought he looked a little shell-shocked, just the way Walker sometimes felt around Daisy.

  So far, Andy had insisted that he had no intention of retiring, but he’d had no intention of buying property in Trinity Harbor either, as far as Walker knew. Now here he was, saddled with a place that looked as if a stiff wind might topple it to the ground. It was a high price to pay to get out of painting those remaining rooms of his house in D.C. He’d be plastering and painting and hammering from now till doomsday to get this new place in shape. Maybe that’s what Andy was counting on, not having it ready for another ten years or so, but keeping Gail pacified in the meantime.

  If keeping an eye on Gail’s pet project promised to be fascinating, then getting to know his nephew better had its own rewards. Tommy had a smart mouth, but overall he was a good kid. After a few weeks of initial distrust, he was slowly accepting that Walker was going to be a part of his life. Not that he didn’t test his uncle every chance he got, but so far Walker had been up to the challenge. They’d even gotten through that grounding last weekend.

  As a result, Walker was almost convinced that his ex-wife had gotten it all wrong about him being a lousy father. Maybe she’d just never given him a chance to get it right, whereas Daisy seemed to expect him to live up to his responsibilities and never doubted that he would.

  Still, more and more lately, Walker thought about how he was going to manage with
Tommy in D.C. Frances had been pestering him for a game plan and he’d had none to offer. He didn’t have a nine-to-five job. The kid couldn’t be left on his own. It was plain that Tommy needed supervision. Okay, a lot of supervision. And, truthfully, Walker didn’t like the thought of taking Tommy away from a town where he was safe and happy and putting him in a city where too many kids had to grow up too fast just to survive. The prospect was troubling him more than he wanted to admit. There was one obvious solution, but he’d been resisting it. He was a big city cop. He’d go nuts in a week in Trinity Harbor.

  Yet he’d left D.C. well before dawn to get down here early. He’d decompressed on the drive and arrived feeling better than he had in a long time. He’d actually reached the house before either Daisy or Tommy were stirring. He’d made a pot of coffee and taken a cup onto the back deck.

  He breathed in the fresh air and sighed. The grass was still covered with dew, and there was a mist hanging over the river. Any minute now the sun would come creeping up to turn the sky and the river a shocking shade of orange. The transition reminded him a lot of Daisy, all peaceful and quiet and prim one second and all fiery sensuality the next.

  He groaned at the image. What was happening to him? He was turning all mushy and poetic. That’s what happened when a man spent too much time around a woman who wasn’t his type.

  He heard the French door to the deck open, but he didn’t glance up. He’d discovered that his first glimpse of Daisy in the morning was always a shock to his system.

  “You look like a man with a lot on his mind,” she commented, standing above him and studying him intently.

  She looked sleepy and tousled in her rumpled T-shirt and an old pair of shorts. Her face had been scrubbed clean, so that the dusting of freckles on her nose was apparent. Her feet were bare, and she’d painted her toenails a shocking red. Walker couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them.

  She gestured toward his empty cup. “You drink too much caffeine, by the way.”

  How she knew was beyond him. Why she thought it was any of her business was also beyond him. But for once the thought of challenging her held no appeal. “Probably,” he agreed.

  Daisy stared at him. “What? No witty retort? No advice to mind my own business? I’m shocked, Detective.”

  The taunt stirred the desire that had been simmering all morning. Before he could stop to think about the wisdom of his intentions, he snagged her wrist and brought her tumbling into his lap. He slanted his mouth across those kissable, sassy lips of hers just as she began to utter a halfhearted protest.

  It began as just another way to torment her, a way to silence her, but it quickly took on a whole different dimension. Any protest died on her lips. Her mouth opened to his tongue. Her hands began to wander, tugging impatiently at his shirt until she could slide them against bare skin. Her legs tangled with his. Her hips fit snugly against his, not shying away from his arousal.

  Who would have thought it? Certainly when he’d first met her, he’d never have suspected that prim little Daisy was capable of such seething passion. Over the last few weeks, he’d experienced more than a few of her surprises, though. Even so, she was still capable of shocking him.

  His heart was racing and his blood was sizzling by the time he managed to clear his head and ease her away.

  “What was that?” she murmured, looking dazed and a little lost.

  “A big mistake,” he said, bounding off the chaise and heading for the steps that led to the driveway.

  He walked away before he could change his mind. It was getting harder and harder to stay sensible around her. She wasn’t doing a blasted thing to help, either. She didn’t resist, didn’t even murmur more than a token protest. In fact, he had the distinct impression that she would have eagerly complied if he had gotten even more carried away.

  He was still shaken when he walked through the door to the local diner. The very last person he wanted to run into was Tucker Spencer, but that was exactly who slid into the booth opposite him and surveyed him with the practiced eye of a cop.

  “Everything okay, Walker?”

  Since he could hardly tell the man that he had just come within a hairsbreadth of seducing his sister, he muttered a noncommittal response, turned a relieved gaze on the teenaged waitress and ordered a cup of coffee.

  “Regular or decaf?”

  Thinking of what had set him off in the first place, he said with a hint of defiance, “Regular. And make it strong.”

  “A mistake,” Daisy muttered after Walker had gone. She touched her still-sensitive lips. “He calls that kiss a mistake? Well, who started it, I’d like to know? Not me. Did I just throw myself at him? No, indeed. I was standing there minding my own business when he grabbed me. He grabbed me,” she repeated to reassure herself of precisely where the blame lay.

  “Who’re you talking to?” Tommy asked, walking into the kitchen in his pajamas, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

  “No one.”

  “But—”

  “What do you want for breakfast?” she demanded testily.

  Tommy regarded her warily. “It’s Saturday. We always have pancakes on Saturday.”

  Daisy shook herself. “Of course we do. I don’t know where my head is this morning.” She got the mix and a bowl out of the cupboard and made the batter, stirring it a little more forcefully than necessary.

  “Where’s Uncle Walker? Is he here yet?”

  She started to respond that she didn’t give a rat’s behind where the man was, but she couldn’t very well say that to Tommy. Besides, it wasn’t true. She wanted very badly to know where he was, so she could avoid him. She didn’t want to see the man again until she had her temper and her raging hormones back under control. Mid-July would be nice. Next December would be even better.

  Unfortunately, Tommy had signed up for baseball during the week with their blessing. He had a practice game this afternoon, and she and Walker had both promised to be there. Short of death, there was no excuse for not keeping her word. Walker could do whatever the heck he pleased.

  “He’s been here, but he went out,” she told Tommy finally as she poured batter onto a sizzling griddle.

  “How come?”

  “You’ll have to ask him that.”

  Tommy’s gaze narrowed worriedly. “You didn’t have a fight, did you?”

  “Your uncle and I have no reason to fight,” Daisy said stiffly, flipping the pancakes. “But it’s not my job to keep track of his comings and goings.”

  “Geez, I just asked,” Tommy grumbled. “It’s not like it’s a big deal or something.”

  Daisy sighed and set his food in front of him. “No, of course not. I suppose I just got out of bed on the wrong side this morning.”

  “Maybe you should go back and get out on the other side.”

  Daisy grinned. “Maybe I should,” she agreed, but deep inside she knew it wouldn’t help. Unless, of course, Walker happened to be in that bed when she got there. Now that might improve her mood considerably.

  Or not, she thought irritably.

  “Got any of those pancakes left for an old man?”

  Her head snapped around at the sound of her father’s voice. This was all she needed. She knew better than to think that he’d just dropped by for breakfast.

  “Why are you here?” she asked suspiciously even as she poured more batter onto the griddle.

  “Is that any way to greet your father?” King grumbled.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” she said, and went over to give him a kiss on his cheek.

  “She’s having a bad morning,” Tommy offered as he stuffed the last bite of pancakes into his mouth. “She got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  Her father regarded her curiously. “Is that so? Any particular reason?”

  “Nope. Just one of those days,” she said, but she could tell that he wasn’t buying it.

  “I guess I’ll go work on the boat till Uncle Walker comes back,” Tommy said, pushing his chair back from the table
.

  “No,” Daisy said hurriedly. She did not want to be left alone with her father. Whatever his mission was this morning, she wanted no part of it. “You haven’t finished your breakfast.”

  Tommy gazed at her, looking puzzled. “Yes, I have. See, my plate’s all clean. If I eat any more, I’ll pop.”

  “Let the boy go,” King said as he poured maple syrup all over his pancakes. “It’ll give you and me a chance to catch up.”

  Which, of course, was precisely what she was afraid of.

  Tommy seized on King’s permission to take off and was about to hit the door at a full run, when Daisy reminded him to go upstairs and change out of his pajamas. It took him all of five minutes before he clattered back down, tore through the door, then let it slam behind him.

  Her father shook his head. “Doesn’t that boy know better than that?” he complained.

  “Tucker and Bobby never did. Must be a male gene,” Daisy commented, pouring herself a large glass of orange juice and settling nervously across from her father.

  “You slammed your share of doors, too, young lady. Never did understand why.”

  Daisy grinned. “It was the only way to make a point without getting into more trouble for sassing you.”

  “When did you ever get into trouble with me? You could always wind me right around your little finger. Besides, until lately, you never gave me a minute’s worry.”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about now, either,” she told him.

  “Of course I do. You’re crazy about that boy, and it’s going to break your heart when he leaves. Then there’s his uncle.” King shook his head. “People over at Earlene’s were talking about him again just this week, wondering what he’s doing here and how long he’s going to keep hanging around you.”

  Daisy regarded him skeptically. “People were wondering this?” she repeated. “Or was it you, Daddy? You and Pete and Donnie and Will and all the other old gossips you hang around with?”

  “Other people asked,” he insisted. “I didn’t know what to tell them.”