“Is Pat coming in today?”
“I don’t know. It depends when he gets back from his trip.”
The young girl came into Trisha’s office and plopped herself down in a seat, half lying, half sitting—a position Miss Manners would have never approved of.
“Is there anything I can do?” Trisha asked.
“Naw.”
Poor Angie, Trisha thought. She was such a bundle of contradictions. She had the smile of an innocent and the mouth of a street thug. She was bossy, demanding and could be more than a little mean. Yet she was also loving and caring. She was always looking after the little kids and was a champion of the weak in any group.
“Rulli wants Pat to check his spelling homework.”
“I can do that,” Trisha replied.
“So can I.” Angie swung her feet out in front of herself, banging the heels together. “I mean, he’s got like third-grade words, you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“That’s what I told him. I said, let me look at that stuff.” Angie made a face and shook her head. “But, no. I can’t, he tells me. He says Pat’s gotta check his stuff.”
“I see,” Trisha murmured.
“It’s like maybe only a guy is smart enough to check his work.” Angie shook her head again. “I tell you, Miss Stewart, that boy’s getting a little too bigheaded. He’s looking for a good whap upside his head.”
“Now, Angie. Rulli is growing up, and if you really want to do what’s best, you’ll go ahead and let him.”
“Yeah.” The girl’s face twisted itself into a multiwrinkled frown, but even that wasn’t enough to compromise the soft, angelic features. “I guess.”
Trisha smiled down at the girl. When Pat had talked about his brother, he’d mentioned how hard it was to let go. And that was exactly what Angie was going through. Poor kid.
“How are you doing in school?” Trisha asked.
“Pretty good.”
“Getting into any fights?”
“Nah.” Angie shook her head. “Not what you’d really call fights.”
Not really a fight? That was an interesting way to put it, but Trisha thought it was better not to probe. Angie hadn’t been late for the club’s late-afternoon study session for three weeks now. That meant that she wasn’t being kept after school. If she was getting into anything, it couldn’t be all that serious.
“Anyways,” Angie said, “when is Pat gonna come in?”
“I’m sure it will be sometime in the next hour or so,” Trisha replied. “Like I said, it depends on how soon he gets in.”
“How come he’s away so much?”
Trisha felt a twinge in her heart. It looked as if she wasn’t the only one getting used to having Pat Stuart around. “That’s his job, honey.”
“So why don’t he get a different job?” Angie asked.
“All jobs have good parts and some not-so-good parts,” Trisha replied. “I would guess that, most of the time, Pat likes his job.”
Angie made some more faces and contemplated the toes of her shoes for a while before she stood up. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll tell Rulli that Pat is supposed to be here. But if he don’t come by suppertime, then, like it or not, I’ll look at his dinky little spelling homework.”
“He might not want you to.”
“Yeah, he will.” Angie smiled. “All I gotta do is twist his arm. Then he does anything I tell him to do.”
“Angie.”
“I only twist it a little.” Angie rolled her eyes heavenward. “It’s not like I go around breaking his arms off, you know.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Trisha said.
“Hey,” Angie replied with a shrug, “he’s my brother.”
“Go do your homework, Angie.”
“Sure.”
Angie smiled, just as sweet as honey, and silently walked out toward the study room. Trisha shook her head and smiled. That was one female who wouldn’t need any assertiveness training. Although, she was only ten now. One never knew how things would turn out as she grew older.
Trisha turned her eyes back to the paperwork in front of her; unfortunately her attention didn’t follow. She’d thought Pat was coming in today. At least she’d hoped he would. She hadn’t asked, but there was no reason that she should. It wasn’t as if she owned him. Or as if she wanted to.
For a moment—the briefest of moments—an image danced before her eyes. A tall man with light brown hair, bare chested and muscular, with a heavy leather collar around his neck and a chain hanging from that.
“Damn it, Pat,” she muttered under her breath. “Get over here.”
“Hello.”
Trisha looked up and screamed.
“Well, thanks a lot,” Pat said.
“I’m sorry,” Trisha said. “You startled me.”
“You were talking to yourself.”
“I was concentrating on my work,” she said. “A lot of people do that.”
She tried glaring at Pat but that resolve quickly melted away as she saw the stress lines at the corners of his eyes. Poor guy. His out-of-town trips were so filled with meetings that he rarely got a good night’s sleep on the road.
“I’m glad to see that you could get here,” Trisha said. “A lot of people have been asking for you.”
“Who? Has my secretary been calling here?” He slumped into a chair and wiped his face with his hands. “There’s no reason for her to do that. She has the number for my pager and for my cellular phone.”
“No, silly.” Trisha felt a lightness about her and laughed. “Angie’s been looking for you.”
“Great.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Trisha laughed again, feeling an almost uncontrollable urge to get up and hug him. Her hands wanted to smooth the worry lines from his face. “She’s not angry with you.”
“Lucky me.”
“Actually, Angie’s not looking for you for herself. Rulli wants to see you.”
“What does he want?” Pat’s tone was that of a man who had won millions in the lottery and had just been told that a distant cousin had called.
“He’d like you to check his spelling homework.” Trisha could feel a tiredness creeping into her voice. “He’s apparently taken your little talk to heart and is determined to improve.”
“Why should I check it?” Pat asked. “Is his tutor a no-show again?”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with the tutor. He won’t even let Angie check it.” Trisha paused a moment, searching Pat’s face for even the tiniest sign of compassion and care. Was any there? She felt her stomach tighten, rapidly working its way toward knot status. “He thinks you’re interested in him and his work.”
Pat shook his head. “Maybe I should straighten him out.”
“Oh, hell.” Trisha had gone straight from worry and concern to anger. She did not stop at annoyance. “Maybe you should just go home.”
“Look,” he said sharply. “What’s important is for him to be interested in his work.”
“I know that. But Rulli’s just a kid.”
“That’s what’s important.” Pat went right on, obviously choosing to ignore her words. “Not whether I’m interested, or Angie, or you—or Santa Claus. No one is there for the tough times except the person that you build inside yourself. Just you. No one else.”
“I understand all that.” Her voice was growing louder and Trisha stopped to take a deep breath. “But there are times in everyone’s life when they need a helping hand. And right now, that’s where Rulli’s at.”
“Great.” He turned away from her and looked out toward the club’s study room. Tension radiated from him like heat from a sunlamp. “Great.”
Trisha took another deep breath. It appeared that Rulli wasn’t the only one needing a helping hand. “Why don’t you go home, Pat? Come back when you feel better.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he snapped.
“I didn’t say anything was wrong. You just appear to be tired.”
>
“I’m tired of being pushed into areas where I don’t want to go. Where I don’t fit.”
He seemed exceptionally irritable today. Had something gone wrong on his business trip? Or was it more of a personal matter?
“I don’t understand,” Trisha said. “What do you mean, ‘don’t fit’?”
“Ah, forget it.” Pat stood up. “If I have to explain it, you wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“Thank you.” Trisha could feel her own irritation rising to meet Pat’s. “Since I’m too dumb to understand, perhaps we shouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Where’s Rulli?” he asked, looking out over the study room. “I’ll check his damn paper and then I’ll go home.”
She was about to tell him to just go home, forget about Rulli, but he was already out in the study room. For a moment she considered running him down and getting him out of the club. But nothing would be gained from making a scene. Instead, she just kept an eye on him.
As she watched, Rulli turned, his face lighting up when he saw Pat. Trisha steeled herself to see disappointment cross it when Pat made some curt remark, but it never happened. Rulli’s smile stayed bright.
Pat sat down next to him, his hand mussing the kid’s hair slightly in what had to be a fond gesture. Trisha just stared, a puzzled frown taking hold of her lips.
* * *
Pat unlocked the door and trudged into his house. It was dark and smelled as though it resented being closed up for the past two days. Great, just what he needed—a house with an attitude. He tossed his briefcase on a table in the foyer, then stooped down to collect the mail from the floor under the mail slot. A few bills, a few magazines and more than a few ads. He tossed them next to his briefcase and went on up the stairs.
For a moment, he wished he had someone there to greet him. Someone who was glad to see him, regardless of his lousy mood.
Jeez, what a wish. He loosened his tie and went into his room to change clothes. He didn’t need somebody or something there to lean on him. About all he could handle would be a ghost, though with his luck, it would be his grandmother and she’d scold him night and day.
Pat grimaced as he tossed his suit coat on the bed, then followed it with his tie, shirt, then belt. No, today especially, he had no urge to run into his grandmother. She would give him holy hell.
He’d acted like an ass. A first-class one at that.
He sat on the bed to take off his shoes, but instead just lay back and stared at the wavy pattern on the plaster ceiling. He’d had no reason to snap at Trisha, no reason to be so ungracious.
Except that he was so damned scared.
No matter what he was doing, Trisha and the kids were on his mind. They were haunting him more thoroughly than any ghost could. Never having been haunted before, he wasn’t sure how to react. So he reacted like any normal, red-blooded man—he struck out and showed everybody how tough he was. Now he felt even worse.
Well, what are you going to do about it? he could almost hear his grandmother ask.
What was he going to do about it? Was he going to lie here all night, thinking up excuses, or was he going to be a man and apologize?
It wasn’t Trisha’s fault he had been so weak lately. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t get her eyes out of his thoughts, or that he heard the sound of her laughter everywhere. He just had to be a man about it and ignore it.
He knew all the shadows that lay in his soul. He knew that no one should ever lean on him, and it was up to him to make sure no one did.
Wearily, he sat up and pulled his shirt back over his head. No sense in letting Trisha’s anger ferment into something even bigger. He’d go over and explain. He’d just tell her that.
Tell her what? That he was infatuated with her? That she danced through his dreams, both waking and sleeping? That when he was near her all he wanted was to take her in his arms and make mad, passionate love to her?
No. He’d tell her he’d had a headache from too little sleep. And jet lag—that was plausible. And maybe even a touch of air sickness—those little planes flying over Lake Michigan could cause that real easy.
Yep, that was what he’d do. He go over there like a man and lie to her.
* * *
“Hey, you two,” Trisha shouted. “Cut that out.”
Lucy had bitten Sniffles on the butt and now they were facing each other down with ears back and tails flicking.
“What is it with everybody today?” she asked. “Is it something in the air?”
Neither cat paid the least bit of attention to her, since it would mean taking their eyes off their companion. Trisha went to the sink, wet her hand and splashed them. That drew a snarl of protest from both and they ran into the dining area, where they sat glaring at her.
“Fine,” she told them. “Now you both can be mad at me. It’ll give you something to do besides biting each other.”
She turned away from their sullen faces and gave her attention to final preparations for her dinner. It looked pretty much done so she turned off the heat on the electric skillet and put a cover on it. All she had to do was slice the tomato for the salad and she could sit down to eat. But as she was reaching for the knife, the buzzer for her front door sounded.
“Swell. Just what I need—somebody else to bug me.” The cats raced her to the front door. “Get away from there. I don’t want either of you dashing outside.”
Their attitude indicated they were going to do what they darn well pleased. Trisha glared at them before looking in the peephole.
“It’s Pat.” Neither of the cats looked particularly impressed. “I wonder what’s wrong now.”
“Hi,” he said, as she swung her door open.
“Hello.”
As they stared at each other, Sniffles leaned against Trisha and howled.
“I guess he’s mad at me, too,” Pat said.
Pat was wearing his crooked, aw-shucks grin, but Trisha had no intention of being taken in by it. “I never said I was mad at you.”
“That’s right, you didn’t.” He paused to look down at both cats, who were now sitting on their haunches looking up at him. Then he looked back at her. “Are you?”
Her inclination was to pitch him in the river across the street, but he was one of the money men in this town. And her kids needed a lot of money. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Well,” he replied. “I was thinking that if you were mad—”
“I said I wasn’t mad at you,” she snapped.
“Oh.” He looked down. “That’s too bad.”
The hell with the money. She should just go ahead and pitch him in the river, then stand on his neck to make sure his head stayed under water.
“Because I was thinking that if you were mad at me—”
She considered screaming, but she didn’t think it would have any effect on him. His skull appeared to be three inches thick and surrounding a pea brain.
“—I could bring you a peace offering.” He bent toward the side of the door and picked up a box, showing her the top. “Like a cheesecake, for instance.”
She felt her anger slipping away, like a slowly leaking tire. Desperately her mind raced around trying to find the leak and patch it. She’d been nurturing her irritation all evening and she didn’t want to let it go.
“And—” he held a can up for her to see “—I brought along some cherry topping.”
Trisha clenched her fists. The man didn’t fight fair at all.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asked.
“No.”
“All right, then. Get in here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Pat stepped quickly into the room. He’d barely closed the door when Lucy leapt onto his shoulder and began nuzzling his ear. He blinked in surprise but didn’t do anything to dislodge her.
“Lucy,” Trisha snapped. “Get down.” She snatched the cat off his shoulder and dropped her on the floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” Pat said. �
�She was just saying hello.”
Trisha turned and stomped off into the kitchen. She knew exactly what Lucy was doing. She just didn’t like a traitor.
The cats raced her to the kitchen and hopped up on the counter. Pat shuffled along after them, looking reasonably subdued. Unfortunately, the man was very sneaky, so Trisha knew that she’d have to maintain her guard.
“I just threw some hamburger and vegetables together.”
“Great.”
“I’ve used up the lettuce,” she said. “But we can stretch it with tomato, cucumber and green pepper.”
“Whatever,” Pat said. “Don’t go out of your way for me.”
“I’m not,” Trisha said. “I’m doing it for the cheesecake.”
“That makes sense.”
Trisha kept her face set firm. There was no way she was doing anything for him. She had enough taking care of kids during the day. She didn’t need to expend energy caring for him.
And she didn’t need that Boy Scout smile, either, so he’d better be careful. Let him start joking with her, trying to make her laugh in any way, and he would be wearing a generous portion of hamburger stew around his ears.
“You cut the vegetables for the salad,” she said. “I’ll set the table.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t start anything,” she said as she snatched out napkins and silverware. “Not if you know what’s good for you.”
“I’m really sorry about this afternoon,” he said.
She glanced over at him, trying to read what lay behind his words, but his eyes were on the tomato he was slicing.
“It was a long trip,” he said.
He’d only been gone a few days, not like last time when he’d been gone more than a week.
“Jet lag, you know.” He did glance at her then, but his eyes darted away. “Then we hit a lot of turbulence over the lake.”
“I see.” It had been a warm, windless day, but then that didn’t mean that there hadn’t been turbulence, she guessed.
He cut a few more wedges of tomato in silence, as if the task needed great concentration, then looked back up at her. His eyes were cloudy, as if the turbulence was resting inside.
“Hell, the trip was fine and the flight was smooth,” he said, a trace of his earlier curtness in his voice. “It was just that I kept thinking about you guys. Wondering if the kids were doing all right in school, you know. I didn’t even have a chance to drop in at the office before I came out to the club.”
Kisses And Kids (Congratulations Series #1) Page 17
