Sheltering Annie

by Lauren Giordano

  Tommy joined them, sandpaper still clutched in dusty fingers. "Hank said we could see them sometime! Can we go, Mommy? Please? Can we please go?" His face wreathed in smiles, he turned to Hank. "We could see Bo again, too. We could . . . camp out. In your field. We could swim in the pond. An' . . . climb the hill."

  Annie's heart thudded faster. She wanted—all of it. She wanted him. At the same time, she was fearful. Of Phil. If she was careless- She swallowed the shiver of terror. This—could get them found. This happiness. The wish for a normal life. If she grew careless-

  "We should . . . wait and see-" The boys cut her off, protesting. Their voices escalating. "Let's . . . let's see how tomorrow goes," she placated. "You have the site tour tomorrow." She wanted it all. So desperately. But, the thought of Phil finding them. The risk—of being forced to run all over again. Somewhere new. Away from Hank. It was so unbelievably unfair. For all of them. Flustered, she rose from the tiny chair, setting Jason carefully to the floor. Giving in to the urge, she crossed the room to the windows. Behind her, she heard Hank move.

  "Hey guys, let's inspect your walls. I want to see how smooth you made them."

  The boys protested, Tommy still belligerent, angry at being denied yet another wonderful day with the one man who seemed to care about him. She heard Hank when he lowered his voice. "Come on, TomTom. We need to clean up our mess. Your mommy didn't say no, did she?"

  "No." His voice quivery, she knew he was fighting tears.

  "So, let's give her time to think about it, okay? While we're doin' that, we can clean up the drywall dust so the babies in here tomorrow don't breathe it in and start coughing. Big boys like us need to take care of the little ones, right?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Can I be a big boy, too?" Jason joined them at the closet, inspecting their work.

  "You sure can." Hank's calm, sturdy presence seemed to soothe them all. "Here—let me give you a boost so you can check out my work up top. I might've missed a spot." He hoisted Jason to his shoulder. "Run your fingers over that wall. Tell me if you find any spots that aren't smooth."

  Blinking back tears, Annie waited, willing herself back under control. Damn it, she wanted so desperately to embrace him. To seize the joy he so clearly brought to them. To finally take a chance again. With someone who would never hurt them.

  "I—I'm going to run to the ladies room." Without looking at him, she headed to the door. She prayed by the time she returned, her brain—instead of her heart, would be speaking on their behalf.

  HANK WATCHED HER GO, worried about her reaction—but also confused by it. What had just happened? What part of the Annie puzzle was he missing? Her fear—out of nowhere. Her skittishness. That word again. The need to flee. As though he were someone she should fear? His chest tightened. Had he made it worse? By talking about the farm—had he made it more difficult for her? Hell, that had been the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted her happy. He wanted to ease the strain around her eyes.

  His hand tightened on Jason's back as he swung like a monkey, trusting that he wouldn't drop him. He smiled over the little guy's enthusiasm.

  "Higher, Mr. Hank. I needs to check way up at the tippy top."

  Making sure Jason wouldn't launch out of his arms, he glanced down at Tommy. "You doin' okay, buddy?"

  Tommy's little fingers grazed the smooth drywall. "Uh-huh. I just wish-" He sighed. "I wish I had a daddy like you-"

  "Me, too. Me, too." Jason's eager agreement was matched by a wild arcing swing from his arms.

  Tommy—was different. The hero-worship shimmering in his eyes tightened his chest, but the sadness reflected there made his own eyes burn. How could any father just . . . leave his kids? And not . . . ache for missing them? How could he abuse the privilege of being with them? Lose the opportunity of raising them. Teaching them. Watching them grow up? Memories surfaced of the guys in his unit. The eagerness in their faces when it was time to call home. Their joy at seeing them . . . if only for a few minutes. And the subsequent letdown . . . knowing it might be days—sometimes weeks before they would talk to them again. His men had sacrificed time with their families because it was their job. Because they believed in their mission. The Army was their career . . . taking them tens of thousands of miles from their families, who suffered for it. But, to abandon your family voluntarily? He shook his head.

  "I wish that, too, Tommy." Hank pulled him in for a quick hug. Why would any man risk losing his kids? Hell, he would have done anything if he and Gayle had been blessed with them.

  When Annie returned, her smile was tentative. Subdued. Her eyes suspiciously red-rimmed. What in holy hell was she going through? And when would she decide to trust him with it?

  She joined them at the closet, leaning in to brush a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

  "No problem, sweet." His brain pounded with questions. He wanted to sit her down. Take her in his arms and hold her. His brain wrestled with his mouth—the mouth that wanted to forcefully remind her she could tell him anything. That he would listen. He would fix it. For her. For them. If only to remove the fear from her eyes. But this time, his brain needed to win—needed to put his heart in a headlock. Annie was a beautiful, intelligent woman who could solve her own problems. All he could hope was she'd like an ear to bend while working through them.

  "I think we're done Mr. Hank." Tommy glanced up at him, looking for his approval.

  He took his time, running his fingers down the wall. "Well done, bud. Very good job."

  The shine returned to his eyes. "What else can we do?"

  "Well, we need to clean up the dust on the floor. See that?" Setting wild-man Jason on his feet, he pointed to the small piles of drywall dust. "When you sanded that wall, that's what came off."

  Annie moved to the small sink in the corner of the daycare center. "If we wet a few paper towels, you could crawl around like trucks to pick it all up."

  Jason removed the thumb from his mouth. "You won't get mads at us?"

  She smiled. "We can wash your pants, Jase."

  "I's gonna be a dump truck."

  The boys vroomed around on their hands and knees, making a game of cleaning up the mess. Hank glanced at her. "Well played, Miz McKenna. Is that how you get them to do their chores?"

  She shrugged, the smug, motherly smile indicating she'd dealt with the issue a million times. "Whatever works with the least amount of complaints." She winced when Tommy roared past Jason with crashing sounds. She glanced at him. "Why do they always have to crash? Why don't they ever want to be safe drivers?"

  "Where's the fun in that?" He grinned, relieved to hear Annie laughing over their efforts. He reached for her hand. "Sweet, I want you to know . . . I wasn't pressuring you-"

  Her fingers tightened on his. "I know you weren't." She glanced at him, before dropping her gaze. "I want to talk with you . . . about my reason-"

  "Annie, love, you don't need to tell me anything," he assured. "But, if you want to, I'm a great listener."

  Lifting her gaze, she stared at him, as though trying to read his thoughts. "I'd like that. Very much."

  Nodding, he lifted their joined hands to his mouth. When her breath huffed out on a sweet, little gasp, he wanted to pull her into his arms. She was so beautiful. So . . . honest. At least about what she was feeling. Honey brown eyes shimmered with want. For him. He could only hope her trust would soon follow. Smiling over the tiny shiver that swept through her, he brushed his mouth over her hand. "I'm not going anywhere," he reminded. "Whenever you're ready.

  AFTER A RESTLESS NIGHT spent wondering what obstacles Annie faced, Hank was relieved when dawn edged through the slats in the blinds. Dispelling his curiosity, he smiled, remembering it was finally the day of the site tour. Imagining Tommy and Jason's excitement was enough to propel him out of bed. The sooner he got there, the faster the day would go. "Maybe today is the day she'll agree to dinner with you."

  Later, sipping coffee on the deck, Hank glanced up the rise. "Good morning, Gayle." H
is soft words broke the silence, just like every morning. The goats bleated in the distance, feasting on the hay he'd hauled them ten minutes earlier. He imagined the boys out there, laughing as Nelson nudged their hands, looking to be petted. Millie running alongside them, trying to keep up. Bo in the thick of it . . . his happy bark filling the air.

  His sigh was deep and restless. The more he imagined it . . . two little boys, living in his house, filling the empty bedrooms with laughter and squabbles and noise. The more he wanted it. He wanted to row the canoe out on the pond. Instead of just looking at it hanging in the shed. He wanted to bust out the fishing poles . . . and spend a day in the sun, eating squished ham sandwiches and drinking from a juice box. He wanted to drift in the boat while eavesdropping on the imaginations of two little boys with big dreams. He wanted to stroll with Annie, a big sunhat on her head as they picked peaches in the orchard.

  "What do you think, Gayle?" Was he rushing things? Imagining how good his life could be? Was it just because he was lonely? Or because it was right? "It feels right." Glancing at his watch, he headed back inside the house. Finally, it was time to head in to New Beginnings—and Annie.

  An hour later, he stared at the plans on the conference table in their makeshift office. Jeff Traynor scoured the spec book across the table from him.

  "How's it goin' with her?" Jeff glanced up from the hardware schedule he studied. "With Annie?"

  "I think I'm doin' okay. We've had dinner several times," Hank reported. Technically. At the shelter. Always with her boys in tow. In the crowded cafeteria. With Annie jumping up several times to assist other diners. Breaking up squabbles with the boys. They'd spent the entire day together Saturday—and he hadn't wanted to leave. At the shelter, he prefaced. She was always working. New Beginnings seemed to demand sixteen hours a day. The woman never left. She was there when he arrived in the morning and still on duty when he finally left each night. Even trying to walk her to her car had been met with resistance. No matter how often he asked, her answer was always 'you go on ahead. I'll be leaving shortly'. No matter the time of day, Annie always still had tasks to complete before she could leave.

  "Where’d you take her?" Jeff dropped into the seat across from him.

  "We . . . ended up eating here." He'd reached the point of staying late every night—just so he could have dinner with her and her boys. At least they'd given up on accidentally bumping into each other. Hell, he wanted her in his life. There was no sense pretending anymore. Staying late gave him the opportunity to sit with her for a few minutes during the dinner shift. He'd managed to steal several more kisses. His face heated as he remembered the previous night. When Tommy and Jason had scampered off with their friend Hector—who was, surprisingly, still at the shelter at six pm. because Marisol had been in a meeting with Miss Sharon. With Hector there to play with the boys, Hank had gained five minutes alone with Annie after the drywall cleanup. Instead of talking, she'd proceeded to back him into their closet—and kiss the hell out of him. He released a ragged sigh. The woman could kiss like nobody's business.

  Now—if he could just get her to leave the dang shelter. He wanted to take her out. He wanted to share dinner with her as she relaxed—instead of bolting up to clear a table. To stare into beautiful, toffee eyes by candlelight. He wanted—to buy her flowers. He sensed Annie could use some pampering. He wanted to talk with her over a bottle of wine, rather than steal snatches of conversation over the din of the shelter dining room. He wanted to discover several hours had passed without them ever being aware of it as they talked about . . . everything. And nothing. He wanted to bring the boys out to his farm. If he could just convince Annie-

  "What about that new burger place?"

  He sighed. "I tried again last night. Tommy and Jason would love to go out. Hell, they'd go anywhere."

  "So?"

  "Annie said she couldn’t leave her shift early." The boys were stuck in the shelter daycare until it closed each night. They needed—the outdoors. A run in the park. Playing on the swings. Running around would wear them out. Exercise and fresh air would probably eliminate half the rumbles they got into. Which would give Annie a break. Not that it's any of your business. She was such a great mother. But . . . there was something he was missing. A big piece of the 'Annie' riddle. He just couldn't figure out what that something was.

  "You need a plan, old man."

  "Thank you, Captain Obvious." Despite the kid's earnest expression, Hank experienced the sudden urge to choke him.

  "Like me, for instance. Today, after we give the kids the tour, I'm gonna ask Hector if he wants to go out for dinner afterwards. Mari won't be able to say no." Traynor grinned like an idiot. "Bingo—I've got another date."

  "Annie's already said I can take Tommy and Jason on the tour-"

  "Ask her to dinner-" Jeff cut him off.

  "I planned to, AssHat." But—that's where it got dicey. He'd tried suggesting they go . . . anywhere. Tacos. Pizza. Italian. Somewhere the boys would enjoy. But Annie's expression would suddenly freeze. From warm and friendly to . . . hunted. Like the previous night. Telling the boys stories about the farm. Tommy had pounced—over the moon to go somewhere fun. But, instead of cajoling her into the outing, Annie's beautiful eyes had flashed with fear. Hank had kicked himself when the boys started badgering her. And he'd been lanced with guilt when her eyes had glistened with tears, her voice tremoring as she placated her disappointed sons.

  "I know she likes me." Hell, her breathy sigh when she kissed him told him that much. That sigh crawled down his spine. Made him ache. Kept him up half the night. He blinked away the image. Lately, he'd needed a cold shower before he went to bed. And still—she returned to haunt his dreams. In every one of them, he was stroking her beautiful body. The one he knew she had—despite the baggy clothes she wore to hide it. "I just can't seem to get her to leave this building," he muttered. "She always wants to eat here."

  Jeff raised an eyebrow. "You're complaining about a woman who doesn't want to spend your money frivolously?"

  "You know what I mean. How many hours can she volunteer here?" Hank's voice heated. "And her kids? Those boys are stuck here for all the hours she stays to work. I wanted to take them out to the farm . . . see the goats, throw a ball around with Bo. Have a barbecue."

  "And?"

  Hank knew his expression was likely as baffled as he felt. "She got all panicky lookin'-"

  "Panicky how? Like—could she be afraid?"

  "Of me?" He resisted the urge to mock him. The kid was tryin' to be helpful. "Look at me. I'm the least threatening guy I know-"

  "What was the look like?" Jeff threw his pencil down, his expression resigned to the conversational vortex he'd been sucked into. "You know—hesitant? Worried?" He smirked. "Not interested—but trying to let you down easy?"

  He sighed. "It was more like . . . I asked her to take her clothes off."

  Jeff busted out laughing. "Okay. So—horror."

  Heat rising in his face, Hank flipped him the bird. Could this get any more humiliating? He was contemplating advice from a kid. A kid who'd never dated a woman longer than a few weeks- "Even her boys were ticked. They really wanted to go."

  "Is she afraid of men? Like—since her divorce?"

  His body tightened as he thought of that kiss. Her luscious curves pressed to him, her fingers in his hair. His scalp tingled as he remembered. "I don't think it's that."

  Jeff slid back his chair, clearly planning his escape. "Why don't you just ask her?"

  "Then she'll think I'm being nosy."

  "Maybe I could pass her a note after class."

  Traynor's dimpled, pretty-boy smile had his fingers curling into a fist. "Isn't it time for you to go?" This conversation had gone on way too long.

  "No offense, but you're starting to sound like a woman."

  Hank scratched his head. "I think her ex-husband is a jerk. Tommy and Jason don't say much, but it sounds like he doesn't spend any time with them." Annie was both mother and
father to two demanding boys. "Her life is busy. Maybe—she's just not into taking another chance."

  "You mean—sorta like you were? After Gayle?"

  He did a slow double take. Could that be it? Annie was cautious. Careful. Wary, even. Was she afraid to make another mistake? Like him? "I never thought about it that way."

  "You want me to ask Mari or Sharon?" Taking pity on him, Jeff's expression suggested he wanted to end the awkward-as-hell conversation. "I could try to find out Annie's story."

  He clearly needed help. But now, Hank was uneasy. Of triggering the flash of fear he didn't understand. At first, he'd chalked it up to shyness. His out-of-practice bumbling. He hadn't dated since Gayle. And for nineteen years . . . it had only been Gayle. After seven weeks, Annie liked him. Liked kissing him, anyway. But—her honey flecked eyes seemed to wage an internal struggle each time they were together. Hank was pretty damned sure she wanted him. But, like his growing familiarity with the delicious nuance of her scent—or the spark in her eyes—or her sweet, shy smile, he was still reading her signs. Translating the inflection in her voice when she hesitated. Whether she would allow herself to have him . . . remained to be seen.

  Jeff retrieved his briefcase. "So—yes or no?"

  Hank thought about it for several seconds then finally shook his head. "Nah. I'll handle it. I need to take it slow. I'm a few decades out of practice." He jerked his head down the hall. "Besides, you'd better concentrate on your own situation. Looks like you've got your hands full."

  "SUGAR, EVERYTHING WILL be okay."

  Sharon's warm gaze reassured Annie later that morning. The empty dining hall was relatively quiet compared to the construction noise outside the window. Light filtered through the increasingly dusty windows. "I know."

  Today. Her boys would venture outside. Somewhere other than at school—where they received a brief fifteen minute recess five days a week. Under the watchful eyes of school administrators who were intimately familiar with the McKenna boys' issues. Of the potentially volatile father who could show up unannounced. You'll never know where I'm at, bitch. Of the father who would stop at nothing to strike at her. Scrubbing at the sudden goosebumps raising on her arms, she glanced up when Sharon's cocoa hand covered hers, her grip firm. Confident.