"I suppose that's a good thing," Clair said. But she knew she didn't sound convincing.
Jace used the claw end of a hammer as leverage to pull off the damaged rails he intended to replace. He had a rhythm going, and it caught Clair's eye even as she meant to be only watching Willy.
But Jace was something to see as he braced a booted foot against the lowest rail, jammed the claw behind the board and nail and then put muscle into yanking them free.
Clair told herself not to pay attention to it. That"Unca Ace" was not why she was there. But with the March sun streaking his hair with gold and illuminating his handsome Face as perfectly as a photographer's lamp at a photo shoot, he was a hard sight to tear her gaze from.
When heel pulled off a number of rails and Willy had all the new ones haphazardly deposited nearby, he said, "Okay, pal, if you're careful to grab the old boards in the middle where there aren't any nails you can take them to the trash for me. Maybe we can get Clair to stand over there and throw them in for us." Then, under his breath, he said to Clair, "He has to have help with that."
Willy might have needed her assistance, but that didn't mean he was interested in socializing during the process.
Clair followed him to a large metal trash receptacle where he gave each board to her as solemnly as if it were the Olympic torch. But she got no response to anything she said to him to try to draw him out, except when she asked about the picture on the front of his T-shirt. Then he said, "I watch Dooby-Doo on TV," and went back to ignoring her.
That was how the bulk of the day went, and by the end of it, Clair was both weary and dejected.
But she didn't want Jace to know it, and so, as they drove back into town, she decided to do some subtle pleading of her own case.
"It doesn't seem very practical to contend with a two-and-a-half-year-old while you work every day," she said, slightly out of the blue and confident that
Willy wouldn't be aware of the conversation because he'd fallen instantly asleep in his car seat.
He gave her the sideways glance he'd given her on their way out to the ranch, taking his eyes off the road for only a split second and not turning his head. "Oh, I don't know. I think we make a pretty good team."
“You must not get as much done, though. Stopping to deal with a child every few minutes is distracting, and the time it takes away from your work adds up."
Jace smiled mysteriously, and she had the impression that he was seeing through her again. "What are you, an efficiency expert?"
"I'm just saying that – "
"It isn't as if I'm in an office with a quota to fill. I don't see anything wrong with what we're doin'. If my job for the day can't be done with him around, one of my brothers is invariably doing something he can be there for, or my mother takes him with her to the McDermots' place. She works around their house, and they don't mind havin Willy over if need be. One of their boys is a little older than he is, and they play real well together. Some days they ask for him to come."
Jace looked at her for a moment, somewhat pointedly, she thought. Then he said, "Seems to me this is a better way for a boy to grow up than havin' to spend his days indoors at a day care center or a baby-sitter's or something. He's out in the open, learnin’ things, play in', gettin' his self-assurance and self-esteem built up by findin' he can be a help and actually do some chores like he did today."
It was hard to disagree with any of that, because she'd seen all of what he was talking about, and he was right.
But she couldn't not argue her own side.
"There's something to be said for day care when they begin to work on skills kids need for school. Plus they learn there are rules they have to follow and they learn how to work and play with other kids. A good day-care center can give a child a head start."
"You think it's better for a boy to be shut up in an institution every day rather than be out in the fresh air and sunshine with somebody who's giving him one-on-one attention?"
"'Shut up in an institution'?" she repeated. "You make it sound like an insane asylum. There are playgrounds and equipment – it isn't as if kids are locked in windowless dungeons and fed gruel. They get accustomed to structure and order and schedules. They learn to compromise. They learn that there's a time for work and a time for play, that there needs to be a balance in life. They learn discipline and order. Hygiene and – "
Jace laughed. "Are you thinkin' Willy should be groomed for the military? Childhood as extended boot camp?"
"Of course not. It's just that there's something to be said for today's day-care centers and for being free to do your own work without the hindrance of a child."
The moment she said the word hindrance she knew she'd made a mistake, and the sobering of Jace's expression only confirmed it.
Jace leaned forward enough to check on Willy, to make sure the little boy wasn't hearing any of this.
Then he said, "I haven't for a single minute thought of havin' Willy with me as a hindrance."
"I know. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just meant that there's nothing wrong with a child being cared for by someone other than a parent or guardian while the parent or guardian works."
"I enjoy havin' Willy with me. He enjoys bein' with me. I think we're both lucky to have the chance to spend this time together."
And that seemed to conclude the conversation as he pulled into his driveway.
Which was for the best as far as Clair was concerned, because she knew she'd lost more points than she'd gained all the way around today.
Jace got out of the truck and Clair followed him, stopping to wait near the hood while he went around to the passenger side to unbuckle Willy.
But as she stood there, she began to wonder where she should go from there. If she should continue to tag along into the house or if the end of the day signaled the end of her time with Willy and Jace – something she was suddenly inordinately loath to have happen.
She hated to invite herself to stay if Jace was tiring of her company, but she also didn't want to leave and have him think she'd had her fill, either.
Luckily Jace solved her dilemma.
"Tuesday night is pizza night at our house. Want to come back in an hour or so and see what an evening in the life of Willy Miller is like now that you've seen what his day involves?"
A swell of gratitude rose inside Clair, and it occurred to her that she liked this man very much. There was something so strong and confident about him that he wasn't threatened by the idea of sharing Willy – at least as things stood now. Strong and confident enough that he was trying to help her get to know her nephew, get closer to him, even if Willy wasn't cooperating.
It was just plain nice of him. And that was a refreshing change for her.
Not to mention that it made him all the more appealing....
"I'd like that," she said belatedly, when she realized she hadn't responded to his invitation yet.
"Great. An hour'll give me a chance to shower off some of today's grime and get my dough to risin'."
He could surprise her, too.
"Your dough? You mean you make the pizza?"
"Somebody always 'makes' the pizza, Clair," he said, teasing her by explaining the obvious.
"I know someone makes the pizza. I just didn't think, when you said it was pizza night, that you were the someone. I figured you ordered out."
"Can't order out pizza as good as I make."
"And you even make the dough?"
"Mmm-hmm.The sauce, too. I cook up a batch and can it myself."
"Amazing."
"I'm a man of many talents," he said with a voice full of innuendo and a lascivious arch to his eyebrow that made her laugh this time.
But she didn't doubt him. And she also realized that there was a part of her that was far too interested in learning just what all he was talented at....
"An hour then," she repeated. "I'd like to clean up, too. Can I bring something? I could run into town for – '' She was going to say she could ru
n into town for a bottle of wine but she realized that made it sound too much like they were planning a date. So she quickly changed course. " – for something for dessert. Does Willy like ice cream?"
"Sure, but there's some in the freezer if we get the urge. After my pizza you might not have room."
What Clair was afraid of was just what kind of urges she might end up having. But she didn't say that. Instead she played off the braggadocio in his last comment.
"Pretty proud of your pizza, are you?"
His supple mouth eased into a wicked grin, and only then did it occur to her that the way she'd said that had made it sound as if she was referring to something more personal than pizza. Something a whole lot more personal than pizza.
But he didn't miss a beat before saying, "Yeah, I am," in much the same tone.
Clair decided she'd better get away from there before either of them ventured any further into the flirting neither one should have been doing.
"I'll be back in an hour," she said with a hint of chastisement in her tone. "I'll be here;1
"See you in a little bit, Willy," she called to her nephew, who was hunkered down in serious study of a dead spider.
Willy ignored her yet again.
"Mind your manners, little man," Jace warned amiably enough.
"Bye-see-ya," the boy answered without looking away from the spider.
But Clair had successfully accomplished what she'd wanted, and whatever sparks had been flying between her and Jace were defused. Or at least they were muted some.
"I guess that says it all. Bye-see-ya," she parroted, heading off across the lawn toward Rennie Jennings's house.
But she could feel Jace's eyes on her as she did, and she only realized after she was doing it that she'd put the tiniest sway into her walk.
Knock it off, she ordered herself.
But even the command and the reminder that she wasn't there to start anything up with Jace didn't help. Her hips seemed to have a mind of their own, and they went right on swaying all the way inside.
Chapter Three
Clair climbed Jace's porch steps exactly one hour later. As she did she silently repeated to herself, I'm here to see Willy. I'm here to see Willy. I'm here to see Willy.
Not to spend the evening with Jace.
But she could hardly believe herself, knowing Willy would never notice that she'd showered and shampooed her hair for the second time today, reapplied blush, mascara and eyeliner, and carefully chosen her best cashmere turtleneck sweater to wear over her black slacks because the color made her skin look luminous.
She was there to see Willy. There to see Willy. There to see Willy...
"The door's open," Jace called from inside when she rang the bell.
Clair let herself in to Jace's second call. "We're in the kitchen." She followed the sound of his voice instructing Willy. Pat it out like a mud pie the way I showed you."
From the living room she went into the dining room, then through the swinging door and into the kitchen, which she'd barely caught a glimpse of before. The walls were painted bright blue around the natural oak cupboards and white appliances. A large round table monopolized the center of the room, surrounded by four ladder-back chairs.
Jace was standing at the table, and Willy was beside him, kneeling on the seat of one of the chairs. There was a wooden pastry board in front of them both, and while Jace pressed dough into a round pizza pan at one end, Willy attempted to do the same with a considerably smaller piece on a cookie sheet at the other end of it.
"Hi," Jace greeted her, glancing up from what he was doing to cast her a welcoming smile that seemed to make the kitchen even brighter.
"Hi," Clair answered. Then she added, "Hi, Willy."
Willy, of course, barely muttered a "Hi" in return, without so much as looking at her.
"He's learnin' to be a pizza man," Jace said proudly.
"Pizza man," the little boy repeated as if it were a title he was eager to have.
Clair watched the two of them pressing floured fingers into the soft dough to spread it ever wider. Willy put too much pressure into it most of the time and jammed his fingers all the way through, leaving holes here and there.
But Jace was more adept, and she marveled at how such powerful hands could be so agile. Agile enough, she supposed, to knead a woman's flesh much the same way, with just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of tenderness, just the right amount of firmness..,
"Pull up a seat," he said, interrupting her wandering thoughts none too soon. "We're just about to put on all the trimmings."
Clair straightened her posture, took a deep breath and once more reminded herself that she was only there to see Willy.
"Can I do something to help?" she asked.
"Pour yourself a glass of wine."
So she hadn't been the only one with that idea.
"There are three glasses near the bottle on the counter," Jace said with a nod in the direction of the tiled countertop near the sink.
"Willy gets wine?"
Jace made a face at her. "He gets the grape juice next to it. But if you don't put it in a wineglass he'll only want what we're having."
"Oh," Clair said, chagrined at overlooking the obvious.
She did the honors, surprised to find the wine he had breathing on the counter was a particularly good vintage.
He really was more than he appeared to be on the surface, she thought. Or maybe she was overlooking the obvious when it came to him, too.
She supposed it was easy enough to do. There he was, a big, rugged cowboy with an extremely handsome face and an amazing body, dressed pretty much the same each time she'd seen him – in blue jeans and, tonight, a plain tan-colored shirt.
It was difficult to look past those superficial things, and the stereotype that came with them, to think that he might be a chef who made his own pizza dough and canned his own sauce. Or that he might have the same kind of knowledge about wines that the last man she'd been involved with had alter taking classes on the subject to impress his friends. Or that Jace would be as talented as he was with a small child.
But there it all was, making him a more interesting person than she had expected him to be. A more interesting person than she wanted him to be, because it made it so much harder not to be intrigued. And impressed. And affected by him.
When she had the wine and grape juice poured, she took the glasses to the table.
Jace and Willy were both spreading thick tomato sauce on their respective crusts. Willy kept an eagle eye on Jace's every movement, mimicking him as best he could but still slopping some of the sauce over the edges of the dough, while Jace managed to spread an even layer, leaving just the right amount of plain crust around the perimeter.
On went pieces of fresh mozzarella, then sliced black olives. But Willy stopped there while Jace added roasted peppers, onions, fresh mushrooms and sausage to the main pie.
Willy occupied himself by putting olive rings on each of his fingers.
"Lookit," he said to Jace, giggling at his innovation.
Jace laughed at him but said, "Don't put those back in the bowl now."
Willy didn't. He ate each one off his fingers.
Then the pizzas went into the oven, and the two of them cleared the mess with Clair looking on.
"Have you ever thought of being a teacher?" she asked Jace when he dispatched Willy to set the table and the tiny child actually did it, apparently having been taught how before tonight.
“Now you want to coop me up in a building every day?" Jace joked, referring to their day care discussion on the drive home earlier.
"You're pretty incredible with kids."
He shrugged negligently as he put a salad together. "It doesn't take more than a little time and patience. And likin' 'em."
"And you do like them, don't you?"
"Yep. Maybe it comes from being the firstborn. My mom always said she taught me to walk and talk and I took over from there with all my brothers so s
he didn't have to. Mainly I remember just wan tin' 'em to talk instead of cry all the time and to be able to get around on their own so we could play."
"I was the oldest child, too. Well, obviously, since you knew Kristin, you knew she wasn't the oldest. I think it always made me feel sort of parental toward her."
Clair wasn't sure why she'd told him that but she did know that she hadn't meant to allow sadness in her voice. Yet it was there, anyway, and in response Jace seemed to sober some.
"There was just you and Kristin? No other brothers or sisters?" he asked as if he were genuinely interested.
"No, just us. I know it seems like there should have been some other kids between us – nearly ten years is quite an age span. But there weren't any."
“Be kind of hard not to mother a sister that much younger."
"Mmm. Especially when there wasn't a real mother in the picture."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "I didn't know that. Kristin didn't talk much about her family. She just said that she'd shamed them and so she couldn't have anything to do with them anymore."
"Oh, that's not true!" Clair lamented in pure reflex to the stab that statement unintentionally delivered.
The timer went off just then to let them know Willy's pizza was finished baking.
Jace took it out of the oven, protecting his hands with only a dish towel.
"This has to cool until the other pizza's done," he told Willy, who was eager to dig into his masterpiece.
Then Jace began to dress the salad and returned to the conversation with Clair. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just repeatin' what Kristin told Kim and
Billy. We all assumed from what she said that her family had turned their backs on her."
"I don't know, maybe it seemed that way to her," Clair said. "But it shouldn't have. Not really. I had taken kind of a hard line with her, but – "
"You don't have to explain. I know how problems can develop in families. There's one in mine."
"But that's just it, there wasn't a real problem. As far as I knew, anyway. There was just...I don't know, a bump in the road that she didn't let me have a clear understanding of."
Baby Be Mine Page 4
