“It’s not really funny,” she allowed, “just bizarre. The whole idea of having you here - cleaning up after my kids, babysitting, eating tuna casserole and cold chicken nuggets…I know you’ve offered to do all these things, Gareth, but it just seems – well, it seems – ” She waved her hands, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry, but you can’t possibly have expected any of this.”
She thought he’d laugh with her, or at least chuckle. Instead, his expression took on a brooding intensity that robbed her of breath. It seemed an eternity before he finally responded, a small smile playing about his mouth.
“I didn’t expect it,” he agreed. “But didn’t anyone ever tell you? Some of the best things in life are the ones we don’t expect.”
Through a haze of fluttery, unfamiliar confusion, Gwyn registered Maggie’s and Nicholas’ avid interest in the conversation. A little unsteadily, she crossed the bathroom to where they still sat on the counter and lifted down first one, then the other.
“All right, you two, go find something to do while Gareth finishes repairing the damage you caused, all right? And stay out of trouble this time. You can watch TV or read a book, but that’s all. Stay out of Katie’s room, stay out of the kitchen, and stay out of my office. Clear?”
“Can we do dot-to-dots on our tummies again?” Nicholas asked.
Gwyn agreed, and the two of them thundered down the stairs. Behind her, Gareth chuckled.
“I seem to have created monsters,” he said, for all the world like the last few moments had never happened. “I hope it doesn’t become a problem.”
Gwyn made a monumental effort to follow his lead, but her smile felt too unsteady to qualify as bright. “As long as they confine their new dot-to-dot skills to the chicken pox on themselves and don’t undertake to include walls or furniture, I should be fine.” She motioned toward the tub. “Can I do something? It’s not fair that you’re doing all the work when my kids made the mess.”
“For the third time, it’s not a problem. I’m sure you have other things you need to do, so let me handle this for you.”
“But – ”
Gareth frowned at her. “Are you always this stubborn about accepting help?”
“No, but – ”
“Then go away and stop bothering me.”
She hovered in the doorway for another few seconds, until Gareth sat back on his heels and sent her a positively ferocious look. Deciding prudence might be the better part of valor under the circumstances, she turned on her heel and left.
Chapter 16
Staring after Gwyn, Gareth scratched absently at his jaw line. A blob of congealed oats stuck to the stubble that had formed since his morning shave. He grimaced, swiping at the spot again with the back of his wrist, but only made the mess worse.
Much the way he did with everything else he touched these days.
Scowling, he returned to fishing oatmeal from the bathtub’s drain. The grayish goop oozed between his fingers as he plopped it into the bucket.
Gwyn looked exhausted. Being up with the kids all night would have something to do with it, but he was certain his own behavior had also played a role. Asking the questions that had triggered her tears and then leaving her alone to deal with her upset hadn’t just been unchivalrous, it had been downright wrong. Guilt shafted between his ribs.
She’d deserved better from him. Deserved to be held and comforted, but he’d been too busy picking out the shrapnel of harsh words, directed at another man, from his own soul.
Too busy wrestling with an image of his own daughter weeping for a father she imagined didn’t care.
He slapped another handful of ooze into the bucket.
Logic told him Sean was right about Amy being different from Katie, about his own situation being different from what Gwyn had described, but guilt wasn’t terribly logical.
Then again, neither was anything else in his life right now.
Promises he’d made to an ex-wife who meant nothing to him, but who held the key to the heart of a daughter he hadn’t seen since her second birthday…a comfort level with Gwyn’s family that surpassed how he felt with his own kin…an attraction to Gwyn herself that rocked him to his core…
More oatmeal spattered into the bucket.
He could still walk away. Should walk away. The way he’d handled last night proved he wasn’t ready to take on anything major in his life right now. He had Amy to think about, and sixteen years of lost time to make up for. It was the worst possible time for a romantic involvement, especially one of the proportions promised by Gwyn.
Gwyn of the warm, quick humor and guileless honesty; of the bottomless, summer’s-lake blue eyes and wild auburn hair; of the cluttered life and formidable strength; of the many, many layers that would take a lifetime to uncover…
Oh, yes. He should definitely walk away.
He’d be a fool if he didn’t.
And perhaps a greater fool if he did.
***
Gwyn peeked into the living room at Nicholas and Maggie, absorbed for the moment in a cartoon, then continued down the hallway to the kitchen, where she set about restoring order to at least one part of her life. She cleared and scrubbed, washed and dried, and had a long, serious, and well-overdue discussion with herself.
Or at least, she tried.
Unfortunately, the memory of Gareth’s departure the night before kept getting in the way. How he’d stood up in the wake of her meltdown, walking out in a silence that had spoken volumes about his level of discomfort.
Gwyn threw the dishcloth into the sudsy water, sending a spray of bubbles across the counter. Why, oh why, had she opened up the whole personal arena last night? Things had been going so well until then…
Liar, said her little voice.
Fine. Things had at least been under control until then. They’d been friendly, but not involved…
Her little voice made a rude noise.
And now he was back. She stared at her reflection in the dark glass of the wall oven, studying the haphazard ponytail atop her head, the dark circles under her eyes, the face she hadn’t even had time to wash, let alone apply makeup to. He was back, apologizing to her for his abrupt departure, and rolling up his sleeves to get involved in her family once more.
And she didn’t know why, and she didn’t know what to do about it, and she was scared half to death.
She really needed to get a grip on herself.
Abandoning her kitchen-cleaning efforts, she grabbed the wicker laundry basket from the table. The clean scent of freshly washed and dried fabric rose from it, a note of normality in a life that had otherwise completely strayed from its chosen course. A life she needed to put back on track. Today.
Balancing the basket on her hip, she scooped up a stack of Katie’s books with her free arm and marched down the hallway. Maggie and Nicholas were still in the living room, oblivious to her presence. They sat on the couch, their two blonde heads – Maggie’s hair long and curly like her own, and Nicholas’ short and straight like his father’s – side by side.
A sudden pang shot through her. They’d missed out on so much, not having a father in their lives. Having Gareth come into their home had highlighted a need that none of them – including her - had even known they had.
And now, having highlighted that need, and having begun to fill it…
The pang turned to a knife, carving her heart in two, underscoring the need to return life to normal. Now. Before any more damage was done. If Gareth had been just an ordinary man, then maybe –
But he wasn’t. And she had no business risking her children’s hearts in order to indulge her own personal fantasy. Gareth Connor no more belonged in her life than she did in his, Regardless of how kind and gentle he was with her children or how much of a spark existed between the two of them, in just over a week he would leave their world and return to his own.
It was up to her to make sure her children weren’t destroyed a second time by that leaving.
&nb
sp; Determination fueling her stride, Gwyn climbed the stairs. She reached the top hallway as Gareth emerged from the bathroom to the accompaniment of a gurgle from the bathtub.
“Done,” he said triumphantly. He hefted a bucket of congealed ick in his hand, his soaked shirt molded to the lean six-pack beneath it.
Gwyn tore her eyes from the clinging fabric – and her imagination from what lay beneath. Clutching at her resolve with both hands, she set the books she carried onto the folded clothes and shifted the basket to her other hip. She’d come up here for a reason. An important one.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful earlier. I really do appreciate your help. Not just today, but all of it. I don’t know what I’d have done without you this last couple of days.”
Gareth raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You sound like a kid who’s been coached in what to say to some cantankerous old uncle. You don’t have to apologize, Gwyn.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m not grateful.”
“I never thought that. Besides, it’s not about gratitude. I’m enjoying myself.”
“Entertaining my sick kids and cleaning out my bathtub?” she asked dryly.
His smile made her toes dig into the hall carpet-runner. He shook his head. “No, being with you.”
Before Gwyn could do more than draw a startled breath at his unexpected – and confounding – honesty, he dropped a towel onto the floor near the top of the stairs and set the bucket on it.
“I’ve missed out on the family thing, remember?” he added. “It’s nice to be a part of yours for a while.”
Oh. No, wait. That was why she’d come up here. To tell him he couldn’t –
“And besides, I have ulterior motives. You wouldn’t happen to have something dry I could borrow, would you?”
She stared at him, panic licking through her. “P-pardon?”
He plucked at his soaking, oatmeal-smeared shirt. “Something dry.”
“No. Not that.” She shook her head. “I meant pardon about the other thing. What ulterior motives?”
Gareth undid the top button on his shirt. “Sorry, that’s a secret.”
She shifted the basket again, holding it between them, gripping it with traitorous hands that urged her to toss it aside and take over Gareth’s tantalizing task. The temperature in the hallway shot upward, flushing her cheeks with heat and turning her mouth dry.
“A s-s-secret?”
Lord,‘s’ was a hard sound to make with her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. She forced her gaze to remain on his face instead of following the path of his hands. He released another button. Then a third. Then a fourth. The heat in her cheeks spread, snaking a slow, traitorous path to other parts of her anatomy. Any resolve she’d had when she’d climbed the stairs became a fleeting memory.
His half-smile knowing, teasing, wicked, Gareth undid the final button.
“Mm,” he said, “but I’ll give you a hint. It hinges on kids recovering and turning their mother free again.”
He slid the shirt from his shoulders.
Gwyn inhaled sharply and forgot all about not staring. She’d known the man was achingly gorgeous – after seeing him all those times on the big screen, how could she not? But the screen had never done him full justice. It couldn’t, not when he was so much more in person.
So much more.
Her gaze traced the broad slope of his shoulders, muscled, defined, offering a woman’s head a sanctuary like none she’d ever known. His chest…deep, powerful, inviting her touch and promising –
Gareth cleared his throat. Gwyn’s gaze flew up to meet the smolder of his. As if he’d heard her every thought, felt every frantic beat of her heart.
“A dry shirt?” he reminded her huskily.
She fled.
Chapter 17
The last of the dishwater disappeared down the drain, leaving only soap suds in its wake. Turning on the tap to rinse them away, Gareth looked over to the sitting room, where Gwyn, Maggie and Nicholas had nestled together for a story after dinner. Exhaustion had claimed the trio about an hour ago, and they all slept soundly, oblivious to his rattlings in the kitchen.
He turned off the water again, shaking his head at the sheer domesticity of the whole situation. If anyone had told him a week ago that he’d be helping out with dishes and plumbing and sick kids, he would have laughed outright at both messenger and idea. So how did something that should have been ludicrous turn out to feel so right?
A noise from the sitting room drew his attention and he glanced over to see Nicholas squirm in his sleep. Without waking, Gwyn reached for the little boy, drawing him further into her warmth, and he relaxed once more.
A hollow formed beneath Gareth’s ribcage. He really had missed out, hadn’t he? He’d suspected it all along, of course. Hell, he’d regretted handing over Amy to Catherine almost before the ink had dried. But he’d never had it driven home like this. Never really stopped – or dared - to think about the thousand little things he’d missed never shared with his daughter: the stories, the hugs, the fleeting moments of innocence and trust. His mouth tightened.
He’d been such an idiot.
He draped the dish cloth over the faucet and wiped his hands against the seat of his jeans. Enough. Katie had gone upstairs to put on pajamas and brush her teeth, so he had time to phone Sean. He wasn’t holding his breath that Catherine would have called with anything but more complaints, but hey, miracles happened.
His cousin answered on the fifth ring.
“Yeah.”
“Did I interrupt something?” He didn’t think Bunny looked the type to stick around this long, but you never knew.
“No, I just got tired of running for the telephone so I could pretend to be your answering service.”
“Ah. I take it Catherine called, then?”
“I’ve been writing the messages on sticky notes. Another hundred or so and I’m thinking I’ll have enough to wallpaper the living room.”
Gareth pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “Should I apologize?”
Sean sighed. “Nah. It’s not your fault. But for your sake, I sure as hell hope Amy doesn’t turn out to be a case of like mother, like daughter. Oh, and before I forget, Angela called again, too. She said it was urgent. You keeping secrets, cuz?”
“Now that you mention it, yes, but Angela’s not one of them. She’s my agent. She thinks everything is urgent.”
“She left a number – ”
“I have it, thanks. What about Catherine? What was the message from her?”
“Let’s see. ‘Call me. Tell him I called. Call me. Why hasn’t he called me? Call me as soon as possible.’ Do you want me to continue?”
“That’s okay. I think I got the message.”
“No pun intended, right? Tell me again why can’t I give her your cell number?”
Gareth looked into the sitting room at the peaceful, slumbering trio. Because that part of my life doesn’t belong here. Because I haven’t decided yet if I belong here. Because Gwyn deserves better from me than to drag Catherine into her home.
“Because I asked you not to.”
A pause. Then Sean drawled, “Right. So how is she, anyway?”
“Who?”
“The one you can’t tell about Catherine and Amy. Gwen, or Gwyn, or whatever.”
“Gwyn,” Gareth said. “And she’s fine. She’s sleeping right now. Two of her kids are down with chicken pox and she didn’t have a very good night.”
Silence.
“Two of her kids have chicken pox, and so you’re just there helping out,” Sean finally replied.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“On your holiday.”
“It’s not really a holiday, and until Amy gets back, there’s not a lot else for me to do anyway.”
“So you thought you’d step in and play daddy to someone else’s kids for a few days for what – fun?”
Gareth paused in polishing h
is fingerprints from the chrome faucet. Annoyance stirred in him. “It’s not like that.”
His cousin grunted. “Uh huh. And I suppose when Amy gets back and you have something to fill your time, you’re just going to walk away, right?”
“Her kids are sick, and she could use a hand. Is that a crime?”
“That depends on whether or not they’re used to having strange men walk in and out of their lives,” Sean observed.
A hard note underlined his voice, born of personal experience. Sean hadn’t spent his childhood summers with Gareth’s family in England because of a warm, sunny childhood here. With divorced parents and a mother who had been rather free with her “friendships,” those few brief weeks every summer had been the only stability in his cousin’s life for years.
“I haven’t asked,” he said.
“Don’t you think you should? With the amount of time you’re spending at that house – like every waking hour – someone’s going to get attached to you pretty soon. Or you to them.”
“I’m a big boy, Sean. I think I know the risks.”
“Then you’re a bloody fool, because you have no idea what the risks are. What the hell is it that’s so bloody attractive about this woman, anyway?”
A thousand things. Everything. Gareth studied Gwyn’s face in repose and cleared his throat.
“She’s pretty – ” Make that beautiful…
“So are a million other women.”
“She’s smart, she’s sweet – ” And sexy as hell…
“I repeat, so are a million other women,” Sean growled.
“She’s not like a million other women, Sean. She’s different.”
Sean snorted.
Gareth pulled his gaze from Gwyn and scowled at the phone. His cousin’s rocky-childhood excuse only went so far. “Are you trying to irritate me?” he demanded. “Because if so, you’re succeeding.”
“I’m just trying to get you to see reason,” Sean said wearily. “You want to hear my theory on what you find so attractive about her?”
Gareth had strong ideas regarding what Sean should do with his theory, but a tug on his shirtsleeve distracted him before he could speak them.
Gwynneth Ever After Page 9
