by Lori Wilde
It was a little after eight and past Molly’s bedtime when they pulled onto Tobie’s street. The baby was yawning, and her eyes were drooping.
When they got to Tobie’s address, there was a colorful tent surrounding the townhouse next door and a small group of people standing in the neighbor’s yard.
“Goodness,” Tobie said. “It looks like the Greens have termites.”
Clay pulled into Tobie’s driveway, and as soon as he killed the engine, a lady from the group on the lawn peeled off from the others and trotted over to his car. Tobie got out to greet the woman, and Clay put down the window so he could hear the conversation.
“Dr. Avery,” the woman said. She was fortyish with a blond pixie haircut and spiky bangs. She had a concerned expression on her face. “Did you get my voicemail?”
Tobie shook her head. “I’ve been busy and haven’t checked my voicemail, Miranda.”
“Bad news, I’m afraid.” Miranda shook her head. “All the houses on the block have termites. The landlords are fumigating all the townhomes on this street.”
Miranda, Clay surmised, must be the office manager.
“We’ve started with the Greens’ house, but yours is next on the schedule, and they want to start tomorrow morning. I’ve got a group here…” Miranda waved at the people on the neighbor’s lawn. “To help you get everything ready for fumigation.”
“Oh, dear, what do I need to do to prepare?”
“Open all the doors to the rooms, seal up all food items or anything consumable like medication, rake back gravel or mulch from the foundation—but don’t worry about that last part, that’s what the landlords hired help for—” Miranda waved at the three men and one woman on the Greens’ lawn. “They’ll start that early in the morning. But you need someplace else to stay for the next three days.”
“This seems so sudden.” Tobie placed a hand to her chest.
“I’m sorry we didn’t give you more notice, but the landlords just found out this week. They were thinking of putting the townhomes on the market to sell—that’s how they found out about the termites—and they want to move quickly.”
“I see.” Tobie looked overwhelmed.
“You can stay with me and Molly,” Clay invited without even thinking it through. “And I’ll help you prep the inside of the house tonight.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Tobie said, turning back to peer at him through the truck window. “What about Molly?”
“I could watch her,” Miranda volunteered. “It shouldn’t take you more than an hour to secure the house and pack your things for the weekend.”
“It doesn’t seem I have much choice.” Tobie kneaded her forehead. “Thank you both. Yes, I accept your help.”
By the time they’d finished prepping her townhome for fumigation and arrived at Clay’s cabin on the Trueblood ranch, it was nine-thirty. Molly was sound asleep in the car seat. Weirdly, Tobie felt wired.
She’d packed her suitcase for the weekend on the ranch and threw in some professional clothes for Monday morning. But she still wore the blue silk dress she’d worn to Edward’s party. She hadn’t wanted to waste time changing so they could get out of her place as quickly as possible.
“Home sweet home,” Clay announced and glanced over at her, his eyes shining in the darkness from the porch light glowing through the windshield.
A warm sensation seeped through her. From the time Clay had pulled his old pickup to a halt outside Edward’s house, she couldn’t stop admiring how handsome he looked in his Wranglers, western shirt, and cowboy boots. His clean, masculine scent teased her. The lurch of awareness invading her body staggered Tobie.
It was too much. He was too much.
But she loved the feelings he stirred inside her. What was up with that?
She finger-combed her hair and bit down on her bottom lip as her pulse fluttered. Good grief! What was she doing here? Had she lost her mind? While she wasn’t financially flush by any means, she could put a hotel stay on her credit card. Why had she agreed to come here? Had she lost her mind?
She had to stop wanting him. Clay had been the catalyst for getting her out of her relationship with Edward and nothing more. She’d best remember that.
Clay represented everything she did not want in a life partner. He was a dreamer with pie-in-the-sky ambitions. Kindhearted? Yes, he was, but he reminded her too much of her father.
“Before I go inside with you,” she said. “We need to get something straight.”
“Oh, yeah?” His smiled brimmed with humor.
“No more kissing like the other day.”
“Okay.” He shrugged, just that easy.
What? Had she expected him to argue? Or… even kiss her again?
“I’m serious about this, Clay. I just broke up with my fiancé, and I’m feeling very vulnerable. The last thing I’m interested in is a rebound relationship. I’ll accept your hospitality and spend the weekend with you because it’s convenient, and you could use the help with Molly. But that’s it. Understood?”
“I said okay; any reason you’re whippin’ a dead horse?” His eyebrows shot up on his forehead.
“Just wanted to draw clear boundaries.”
“I get it. Keep my hands to myself.”
“Yes.”
“Are we done now? Can we go inside so I can put Molly to bed?”
He was right. Molly was the most important thing. “Yes, yes, let’s get her to bed.”
Following him up the steps, her eyes trained on his confident swagger, apprehension settled over her. By staying here, was she tempting fate?
Tobie gulped. Had she just made a big mistake?
Stepping over the threshold into the cabin, she noticed he’d cleaned the place up since her last visit on Tuesday. The various mechanical parts previously strewn across the room sat neatly shelved in clear plastic containers along the top of the bookcase, safely out of Molly’s reach. The floor was vacuumed free of debris.
He’d taken the scare with his niece very seriously.
Molly stared over Clay’s shoulder at Tobie, wide-eyed and grinning.
“I think the napping she did while we got my house ready for the fumigators fired her up,” Tobie said. “She doesn’t look the least bit sleepy.”
“I think you’re right. She’s wriggling like a puppy, and she’s probably hungry again. I fed her around six. In fact, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since noon. How about you?”
“I could eat.” She’d meant to eat at Edward’s party, but that hadn’t worked out.
“Have a seat,” he offered, “while I rustle us up a late supper.”
“Can I help?” she asked.
He sent an appreciative gaze over her body, his eyes lingering at her curves. “You’re not dressed for kitchen duty.”
“Well, at least let me hold Molly.”
“Deal.”
She held out her hands for the baby. He deposited Molly into her arms and wandered to the kitchen. “How does grilled cheese sandwiches sound?”
“Sounds yummy. Most of my dinners come already prepared from the grocery store, or I dine out with Edward.”
Molly was chewing on her hand, and a string of drool dripped from her chin. Tobie got a paper towel from the roll and dabbed at the baby’s chin. “Molly’s teething. Do you have any teething biscuits?”
Clay nodded at the pantry. “Help yourself.”
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms that would put any cattle wrangler to shame, and got out the whole wheat bread.
While Clay worked on the sandwiches, Tobie pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down with Molly in her lap, the baby happily chewing on a teething biscuit.
“Are you going to miss your old lifestyle?” Clay asked, a dark, unreadable look clouding his eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“The fancy parties, the gourmet food, the excitement of hobnobbing with the well-heeled.”
“Are you kidding?” Tobie wrinkled her nos
e. “That was my least favorite thing about being with Edward. I’m a homebody at heart.”
Clay looked relieved. “You really won’t miss it?”
Tobie eyed him. Was Clay fishing to see how she’d feel about dating a poor man? Sure, she’d wanted a nice house and the security Edward could offer, but over the past week, she realized neither of those things was worth not having children.
But on the flip side, could she date a man who couldn’t provide for his family? Even if she made money of her own, she’d want to stay home while her babies were little. She remembered those awful days following her father’s death when she and her mother got evicted. The memories stuck with her—the stark fear of never knowing if they would have enough food to eat or a warm, dry place to sleep.
“Tobie?”
“What?” She blinked.
“You looked so serious,” he murmured, buttering the bread. “What were you thinking?”
“Nothing,” Tobie mumbled.
Molly squirmed in her lap, providing a diversion. Yay! She settled the little girl on to the floor. The atmosphere in the kitchen was nice, homey. She and Clay were like new parents, sharing the responsibility of supper and childcare. Wistfulness filled her. Would she ever have a family of her own?
“Let me help. I’ll grab the cheese.” She went to the fridge and got out a block of cheddar. Whirling around, cheese in hand, she almost ran smack-dab into Clay’s broad chest.
“Hold on there.” He reached out a hand to steady her. “I like mixing cheddar with Monterey Jack.”
“Oh,” she said breathlessly, tottering on her high heels.
He settled his arm around her waist. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she whispered. “A little dizzy I guess, from spinning around too fast.”
Their eyes met.
Every time she gazed at Clay, she felt the same light-headed swooning that had nothing to do with spinning around. He was standing so close she could see those long eyelashes framing his lively gray eyes.
A lopsided smile crooked the corner of his mouth.
“Where’s Molly?” she asked.
They both looked around and spotted the baby prying open a cabinet door where he kept cleaning supplies.
“No, no.” Clay firmly shut the cabinet.
Molly pooched out her bottom lip and crawled under the kitchen table.
Clay shook his head. “I’ve got to get baby latches installed on these cabinets. She sure scared the stuffing out of me the other day, gnawing on that iron filament. I’m so glad you were there for us.”
“My pleasure.”
As if she knew they were discussing her, Molly plopped down on her diapered bottom, clapped her hands together, and cooed.
They chuckled in unison at the darling picture Molly made.
Inexplicably, Tobie’s gaze flew to Clay. Laughter widened his smile. It felt so good, so right, to be in this cabin with these two, and she’d almost forgotten the circumstances that had landed her here.
“Let me just finish up these sandwiches.”
Tobie nodded, and for a magical second, everything seemed to recede to a faraway level, the sandwiches in the panini press, the baby under the table, the whole rest of the room. Suddenly, it was just the two of them on a secret planet of their own.
She sucked in her breath, letting her gaze linger on Clay’s features. His perfect nose, his capable chin, his steady clear-eyed gaze. Her gaze trailed lower to his mouth, and she remembered sharply, poignantly, the taste of him. How could she ever have perceived this man as unreliable?
Stop it, Tobie Lynne Avery. You’re letting your fantasies run away with your common sense. Stop turning Clay Barton into something he’s not. Just because you’re attracted to him, don’t attribute qualities to him that he doesn’t possess.
Molly squealed and crawled out from under the table. The baby’s little palms patted against the hardwood floor as she headed straight for Clay’s legs. Bending down, he retrieved his niece and swung her onto his hip.
With shaky hands, Tobie brushed a lock of hair from her eyes and turned away. What was this strange fascination with him?
Keep away from him, her prudent side urged. Use Molly as a buffer, then get the heck out of here, ASAP.
Except she had no car, and it was almost ten o’clock at night. Face it. She was stuck here, at least until morning.
9
“Could you get the bread and butter pickles from the pantry?” Clay asked, struggling to keep a secure grip on the wriggling baby in his arms.
“Sure thing.” Tobie dug around in the pantry until she found the pickles.
Clay stood next to the panini press, switching his gaze from the sandwiches to Tobie. She was definitely independent.
Damn, but he loved looking at her. From her Snow White beauty to her lithe, graceful movements, she captivated him, but he shouldn’t have invited her to spend the weekend at his cabin. No siree Bob.
He wanted her. Plain and simple. Or maybe ornate and complicated, because the last thing he needed at this point was a serious relationship. Especially with a woman on the rebound.
But maybe a hot fling?
Except something told him Tobie was not the hot fling type. Clay couldn’t help wondering if she’d broken up with her fiancé because he had kissed her.
Don’t be an egotistical swine, Barton. You’re not that great a kisser.
While Tobie set the pickles, potato chips, and napkins on the table, Clay settled Molly into the high chair he’d borrowed from the Truebloods once he realized his niece would be staying longer than a day or two.
The baby jabbered like a miniature queen holding court.
He opened two jars of baby food. One chicken, the other green beans. Pouring them into a plastic dish, he carried it back to the high chair.
“May I feed her?” Tobie asked.
“Sure.” Clay handed her the plate. He straddled the chair on Molly’s left while Tobie seated herself on the right.
At the sight of the food, Molly opened her mouth wide and made sucking noises.
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” Tobie murmured, scooping up a spoonful of pureed green beans to feed the child. “You like that? Yes. Num-num, good.”
The sound of Tobie’s happy tone sent a shaft of longing straight through Clay’s heart. Until this moment, he had not realized how much he wanted a wife and baby of his own.
Not now, Barton. Not until he’d patented the recycler and got it into production.
“Look, Clay,” Tobie laughed as Molly reached for the spoon. “She wants to feed herself.”
“Let her have at it.”
“She’ll make a mess.”
“She’s washable.”
Tobie relinquished the spoon, and Molly stirred it around on her plate, slinging green bean mush across the high chair tray. She favored them with a green-faced smile and squeezed some between her fingers.
“She’s so cute.” Tobie giggled. “Babies are so much fun.”
“Eat while she’s distracted.” Clay set a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich cut in two in front of her. “Once she loses interest in food art, all is lost.”
Much like my heart, Clay thought and realized it was far too late for him. He was already falling for the gorgeous Dr. Tobie Avery.
Following Clay’s advice to eat while the eating was good, Tobie dug into her sandwich. The simple grilled cheese tasted so darn good!
She looked up to catch Clay watching her. An unexpected warmth shot through her body, and it had everything to do with the lanky, broad-shouldered man sitting across from her.
A wayward lock of hair flopped across his forehead. She itched to reach over and brush it back into place, but the thought of touching him sent shivers skipping through her. Looking at him was trouble enough.
When he smiled, she thought of heated tropical breezes, ocean waves crashing against breakers, and long embraces on sandy beaches. Heavens, what the man could do to her with one glance!
; To break the power of his gray-eyed gaze, Tobie shifted her attention to the baby. Molly was busily finger-painting with her supper, paying absolutely no heed to the adults.
The firm muscles in Clay’s forearm flexed as lifted the sandwich to his mouth. The provocative sight of his pink tongue was almost her undoing. Determined to head things off before they got too sticky, she focused her gaze firmly on her own meal and did not look up until she’d finished her sandwich.
His cell phone on the counter rang.
Clay pushed back from the table, and Tobie breathed a sigh of relief. One more minute and she feared she might throw herself into his arms and kiss him until neither one of them could think straight.
“Hello?”
Tobie stood and began clearing the table.
“Anne,” he said. “How are you? How’s your mother-in-law?”
She tried not to eavesdrop, but the old cabin was the original open concept. One main room for the living, dining, and food prep areas.
“Molly’s great. Yes, we got Binky.”
After rinsing the dishes in the sink, Tobie put them in the dishwasher.
“No. No, I didn’t.” Clay cast a glance in her direction. “I have a… friend staying here to help with Molly. No, you don’t know her.”
Clay lowered his voice, turned his back to Tobie, and leaned his shoulder against the wall, gifting her with a superb view of his backside. She gulped against the heat that fled up her neck.
“She’s a doctor. Yes, the pediatrician I took Molly to. Yes, okay. Sure. Take your time.” Clay was quiet for a moment. “Bye-bye, you take care. We’ll see you on Monday, then.
Clay pocketed his phone and turned back to face Tobie. “That was my sister.”
Tobie nodded.
“Her mother-in-law finally came out of her coma, but they will stay through the weekend until she’s stabilized.”
“I’m glad to hear she’s improving. I know they’re relieved.”
“Hear that, Miss Molly? Your mama will be home on Monday.”
As if on cue, Molly opened her mouth and squalled. She had green beans plastered in her hair and pureed chicken ground into her clothes. Food dripped from the high chair, spilling onto the floor.
