Tommy squealed when another pinecone fell. "It's her!" He glanced up, searching the trees. "Hi, Gayle," he shouted. "Throw one to me."
When several pine needles shook free, plopping at their feet, Jason ran to catch them. Bo started running in circles. And Hank—lost control of the conversation for the next few minutes as the boys jumped up and down, yelling Gayle's name every five seconds, in the hopes of getting clunked with a pinecone.
Annie picked her way between hurtling bodies and an overjoyed Labrador to join him. "It sounds like you were lucky to have her." She brushed his fingers, sending a shiver of current up his arm. "I'm glad she's still here with you."
Sensing her gaze on him, he met her beautiful, honest eyes. "I'm glad you're here with me now."
"Mommy—I's hungry."
"Is everyone ready to walk to the pond?" It was time to gather his charges. "I've got a big picnic lunch for us in this basket."
"Me 'an Bo can lead." Tommy stooped down to talk to his dog. "Bo—where's the pond? Lead me to the pond."
Bo barked. Jason hopped from one sunny spot to the next. Tommy demanded directions from an excited Labrador. And Annie—simply shrugged, her honeyed eyes sparking with happiness. When she laughed, the joyous sound seared into his soul, soothing the place that had ached for so long. For the first time in four years, Hank had a glimpse of what his life could be like. His chest tight with yearning, he tapped Tommy's shoulder. "If Bo doesn't answer—it's that way." He pointed in the right direction. "Follow the little trail, but don't go near the water," he reminded. "We'll be right behind you."
HENRY'S PICNIC LUNCH had been perfect. Annie smiled at his broad shoulders as he herded two eager boys down to the water's edge. Despite a large, irresistible body of water a dozen yards away, her boys had eaten lunch. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut in quarters. Carrot sticks with ranch dressing. Sliced apples. Cheese cubes. All perfect finger foods for eager boys who'd wanted to do anything but eat. His voice had been calm, but authoritative as he'd painted a picture of his farm. As he'd explained all the wonderful things they would do after everyone had eaten enough lunch. As he'd patiently countered pleading, whining arguments with the importance of eating all their snacks so they wouldn't get tired during their hike.
Now, Annie watched them, her mind wandering as she drank in the beauty of a perfect Saturday. His back to her, Henry stood with her boys, his low voice carrying as he shared his knowledge of Mallard ducks.
"Why doesn't that one come visit us?" Jason pointed a stubby finger.
"That's a mama," Henry explained. "She's guarding her eggs. Her babies won't hatch for a few more weeks."
Shading his eyes, Jason looked up. "Can't we go visit her? I can bring her a cracker."
Henry chuckled. "She wouldn't like that. She's very protective of her eggs. And when they hatch, she'll guard her babies with her life."
"What would she do?"
"She'll attack you," he explained. "Bite you. Flap her wings at you. When the mamas are nesting, Bo and I stay away so we don't upset them."
"How do they eat?"
Henry bent down to Jason. "See that guy there? With the green head? He's bringing her food so she doesn't have to leave her babies."
Tommy glanced up from the stick he was dragging along the thin strip of beach. "He's their dad?"
"Uh-huh." He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking with hers. His sexy grin sent a shiver of need down her spine . "Mallard ducks stay together. That's her husband. He protects her. He takes care of her and brings her bits of food so she can eat."
Her gaze followed narrow hips and the long, muscled legs she suspected were hidden under his jeans. She released a luxurious sigh, torn between the desire to think about Henry . . . and how soon she'd finally get an eyeful of his beautiful, capable body and the urge to pay attention. To capture his gruff, sexy voice as he talked with her boys.
"Listen." He squatted next to the boys. "Hear that?"
Under his spell, Annie leaned forward, not wanting to miss anything. Her senses suddenly filled with the breeze weaving through the cat tails ringing the pond. A fat bumble bee buzzing as he drifted through the wildflowers. The distant honking of a duck on the far side of the pond.
"That's the mama. She's talking to her husband."
"What's she sayin'?"
"Maybe she's asked him to bring her the cracker you just gave him." Henry gently shifted Jason to see more. "Look what's happening now," he pointed out. "He's swimming back over there."
Tommy dropped his stick, moving closer to the water. "Mommy—did you see? They're talkin' to each other."
"I see." Her voice wavered. She saw a great deal. A man who'd captured her sons with his kindness. His endless reserve of patience. His enjoyment of them. A man who answered their questions with genuine interest in his gaze. Who was equally at ease teaching them how to caulk a window or build a shelf as he was in teaching them patience. Manners. Each time she'd handed him something from the picnic basket, Henry had thanked her. And then he'd gently prodded the boys to do the same. Gazing at his broad, capable shoulders, she saw a man who'd captured her, body and soul.
"Mr. Hank," Jason shrieked. "Are those fish?" Her son bolted forward, nearly falling in, before Henry's arm wrapped around him.
"Easy, Jase." His shoulders shaking with laughter over her son's exuberance, he held firm when Jason wanted to get closer. "Those are minnows. They live along the edges of the pond."
Tommy joined them, leaning against Henry's leg as he stretched to get closer to the water. "Can we catch 'em? What do they eat? I wanna go in-"
Henry turned to her, kids draped all over him. "Well, if you mommy says it's okay, we could take our shoes off and roll up your pants so you could take a few steps in." His grin suggested she'd better get down there fast.
Rising from the blanket, Annie quickly joined them. "Tommy—your shoes," she protested. "They're already wet."
"I needed to pull this stick out." His expression unabashed, he held up a sturdy leg, revealing a squishy sneaker.
She shook her head, unable to hide her smile. She'd known she was on borrowed time. "Take them off. Let me help you roll up your pants."
Soon, Henry was showing them how to skim a stone across the pond. Broad shoulders flexing, he bent to show Tommy how to flick his wrist just right. "How about you, darlin'?"
Annie winced when Bo galloped into the water in the hopeless attempt to retrieve his stone. "How about me, what?"
Henry handed her a smooth, round stone. "Let's see what you've got."
His fingers lingering on her palm, she absorbed the pleasant shiver tracing her skin. "Challenge accepted."
"You have to hold it just right." He leaned in, brushing his mouth over her cheek.
"I think I could be good at this." She grinned when beautiful, sapphire eyes heated.
"Mommy—do it."
Distracted by the message in Hank's eyes, she dropped her gaze to her son. Tommy's expression—so carefree. So—happy. She hadn't seen him like that in months. She winked at him. "Here goes."
Leaning to her right, she launched her stone. Halfway across the pond, it skimmed the surface, jumping once. Twice. Three times, before it sank.
"Mommy, you did it!" Tommy hugged her waist. "That was so cool."
"Your mom wins," he conceded. "Mine only skipped twice." As the boys splashed in the water, searching for more stones, Henry drifted closer. "I'll want to see more of that technique later."
His low, sexy drawl had heat rising in her face. She suppressed a shudder, making him chuckle. And making her suddenly brave. "I'll be happy to offer a demonstration later tonight." His breathing suddenly ragged against her ear, she shifted in his arms, unable to resist the magnetic force field in fierce, blue eyes. "We're seizing the day, Henry," she reminded. "But, I may just seize the night, too."
AT DUSK, HANK PLOPPED down on the blanket again, this time it was spread on the grass abutting the fields. Annie sat next to him, cross-le
gged, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"Do you think we'll see them?"
He grinned at her eagerness. She was nearly as antsy as the boys. After cooking out on his rarely used grill, he'd whittled sticks for the boys to toast marshmallows. Now, full and sticky from their s'mores, the boys had collapsed on the edge of their blanket, their eyes locked on the edge of the woods. Waiting for the doe and her fawn to appear.
Golden wisps of Annie's shining hair captured the last rays of twilight. The gorgeous, honeyed strands had started out the day in a smooth ponytail. But, hours of traipsing fields, climbing hills, skimming stones and hiking through the woods had loosened it. Soon—very soon, it would fall over his hands. Soon, his fingers would sift through each luxurious strand, confirming their softness. Soon, his nose would be buried in it and he would get drunk off the scent. "If we're quiet." His voice hoarse, he cleared his throat. "Every night Bo and I watch them from the deck."
"Quiet like this?" Tommy's loud whisper made him smile.
Fingers to his lips, he lowered his voice. "Quiet like this," he whispered. "See how Bo is acting? He's very still . . . because he knows the deer scare easily. If they sense we're too close, they may wait until later before they come to the orchard."
After a pretty big yawn, Tommy nodded. "We'll be like Bo," he promised, practically mouthing the words.
Baths and bed. Soon. Hank suppressed the desire to kiss her. Annie's scent was all around him, blending in with the night air, the wild honeysuckle, the damp grass. Yet, he suspected he'd be able to single her out, even if blindfolded. She was warm skin and sweet vanilla. Lavender and sensual woman. He resisted the urge to press his lips to her throat. If they were alone—to lower her back to the blanket. To unbutton the wrinkled blouse and slide it from her shoulders. To kiss her pale, creamy skin in the approaching moonlight. To see the stars reflected in her luminous, brown eyes-
"Look-" Tommy smothered his cry, slapping a hand to his mouth.
Jarred from his thoughts, Hank lifted his gaze to the darkening woods. Jason had climbed into his lap as dusk settled.
"I's afraid of the dark." He'd admitted it freely, making Hank smile. Now, he nudged the little boy's eyes in the right direction. "See them?" He whispered the question to a suddenly squirming body. Bouncing in his lap, Jason nodded, his eyes locked on the doe and fawn, cautiously easing from their hiding place. "Look close," he urged, "because once they catch our scent, they'll startle and run."
Beside him, Annie stilled and leaned forward. Her breath catching with delight. Hank closed his eyes, wanting the moment to last. Wanting her there. With him every night. Wishing her boys—were his. Wanting this. The privilege of raising them. The joy of a family, after years of believing he could never have one.
A moment later, Tommy startled when the doe raised her head, seeming to stare at them from across the field. With a graceful leap, she was gone. Her fawn followed, crashing through the underbrush as they disappeared from sight.
Bo raised his head, a question in his eyes. Hank smiled. "Stay, Bo," he ordered. He didn't feel like chasing down his dog once the boys were in bed. "The boys need you."
Tommy's eyes were wide. "She smelled us? Is that why she ran?"
Hank nodded. "Feel that breeze?" When the little guy nodded, he shifted Jason in his lap. "That breeze carried our smell . . . all the way across the field to the doe. Did you see when she looked right at us?"
"That was her smellin' us?" Tommy patted Bo's head.
Jason lifted his arm to his nose. "What do we smell like?"
He chuckled. "To her, we just smell different. Like people instead of deer."
"Which reminds me," Annie chimed in. "I think it's time for a bath. It's getting close to bedtime."
When she was met with a chorus of protests, Hank remembered his surprise. And felt a trace of unease. Soon, he'd find out whether she liked it.
"The first one to count ten stars wins," he challenged. "Then, I've got something to show you . . . in your bedroom."
Two heads immediately tilted back, eyes searching the night sky. "I gots three," Jason cried.
Annie's soft laughter ignited the yearning in his chest. "Nice work, Freeman."
Within a minute, the boys had found ten stars. Hank winked at her. "Okay, time to go inside."
"Is it a surprise?" Tommy leaped to his feet. "C'mon, Jase."
As they crossed the yard at a run, Annie stared after them and shook her head. "How did you do that? They're fighting to get in the house—to take a bath."
"You taught me," he reminded, slipping her hand in his. "Make it easy for them to do what you want done."
Her eyes flashed in the growing dusk. "See? It actually works."
Once inside the house, Hank smiled at the shrieks coming from the bedroom down the hall.
"What on earth-" She glanced up, her expression confused.
He swallowed around the sudden dryness, his pulse strumming. "I hope you don't mind . . . but I-"
Tommy's head appeared around the doorframe, his face split with a grin. Annie seemed to freeze, drinking in his expression. "Honey? What is it?"
"Our room . . . it's the best room I've ever seen."
"Well, let's take a look." Annie slid him a cautious glance.
Suddenly tongue-tied, Hank hesitated in the doorway, waiting to see how she reacted.
Annie did a slow spin around the room he'd decorated for the boys. She took in the royal blue, masked heroes bedspread on the double bed. As he'd made up the bed, he'd wished he had twin beds for them. But . . . maybe they'd feel safer sleeping together, like they did at New Beginnings.
"Mommy, look." Two voices competed to show her all his surprises. "Mommy—look at my pillow. Look at my sheets."
"This is . . . incredible." Her gaze shot to him, a wobbly smile on her face. Suddenly worried, Hank had trouble translating her expression. Was that pleasure? Or sadness? Her fingers traced the lampshade on the superhero lamp. She didn't know it yet, but he'd bought a twenty-five watt bulb for it . . . so the boys could keep it on overnight. Like the nightlight he'd seen in their room at the shelter. It would glow with just enough light for them to feel safe.
She drifted to the window, gazing out at the fading light, before examining the matching drapes he'd hung. "Henry-"
Summoning his courage, he took a step into the room. When Jason would have bounced straight off the bed, he caught him in his arms. "Easy, little man." When Jase lifted his arms around his neck, Hank held his breath.
"I love you, Mr. Hank." A sticky kiss was planted on his cheek.
Annie turned away, raising a hand to swipe her eyes. Oh, hell. Had he embarrassed her? She startled when Tommy called her from the adjoining bath. "Look in here!"
Glancing over her shoulder at him, she released a steadying breath before heading into the bathroom.
OVERWHELMED WITH THE urge to cry, Annie entered the bathroom, relieved to have a moment. To get her emotions back under control. But, there was still more awaiting her. A hand to her chest in an attempt to slow her racing heart, she pasted on a smile for Tommy as he showed her the shower curtain, his favorite characters dueling their way across the fabric. Two tiny sets of pajamas . . . in red and blue. Already washed. Neatly folded on the counter. Her blurring eyes took in the toothbrush holder. The soap dish. Bright red and blue towels stacked neatly on the shelves. He'd thought of everything. To make two little boys feel welcome. To feel safe. To feel . . . as though it were their space. Their room.
"Mommy . . . can I use this toothbrush instead 'a mine?"
Tommy's voice broke through the haze of overwhelm. The tears clogging her throat. The desire to burst into tears over what Henry had done. "Of course, honey."
"Mommy, come quick."
Closing her eyes, she wondered what more he could have done. Shouldn't have done. When she re-entered the bedroom, Jason was on the floor, checking the drawers of a refinished, pine bureau. Tommy dove to the floor to help him.
"Mom
my—look. It's jeans. I don't have to worry about the ones I got wet today."
"An' look. Here's sneakers," Jase pointed out.
"An' two shirts." Tommy raised huge eyes to her. "Mommy—can I wear these to school? Please?"
Speechless, she nodded, before risking a glance at the conspicuously quiet man leaning against the doorframe. And found doubt in his eyes. Worry, even. As though he wasn't entirely sure how she would react. Clearing her throat, she stared down at her boys, drinking in the happy squeals. "What do we say?"
The boys glanced at each other before grinning at Henry. "Thank you, Mr. Hank."
As they were busy sorting through clothes, she crossed the room. The closer she got to him, the more troubled he looked. "Henry-"
He caught her in his arms. "Don't be mad, love," he pleaded. "I just wanted them to like being here."
"How could I be mad?" She stared up into bright blue eyes brimming with concern. "How could they not love it here?" His quiet worry whispered through her brain. How he always seemed to sense what she was feeling. How he could read her. How his concern over her feelings seemed to trump everything else.
Lifting on tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Uncaring that the boys would see, she pulled his mouth down to hers. "Thank you," she murmured against his lips. "Thank you."
His gaze heated with relief. Until he began kissing her back. Until his warm, solid body began to harden with the desire they'd battled all day. "Easy, love," he croaked, reluctantly releasing her. Resting his forehead against hers, he smiled. "Baths. Bed. Then . . . us."
Happiness suffusing her, Annie smiled. "It's a date."
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, Annie said a final goodnight. After cleaning up the kitchen while she gave them their baths, Henry arrived in time to say goodnight. He'd hesitated when Jason requested a kiss. But, the smile on his face suggested he was pleased by the request. Then Bo had arrived, flopping into the dog bed Henry had placed near the boys' bed.
"Can Bo sleep with us?"
Henry grinned in the dark. "He might squash your toes, buddy. Better to let him guard you from his bed."
Sheltering Annie Page 21
