A House Full of Fortunes!

by Judy Duarte

Satisfied that Justin was in good hands—and that she’d thought of everything, Angie headed to the front desk to find out where the yoga class was being held.

  A young woman, clearly the receptionist, pointed her down the hall.

  Angie turned in that direction, her gaze scanning the entry of the building, just as Mr. Murdock pushed open the double doors and walked inside.

  He was wearing a red T-shirt with Semper Fi printed in yellow letters in front. He also had on a pair of green-and-white Hawaiian-print swim trunks and blue flip-flops.

  “Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here, Mr. Murdock? Are you a member of the Y?”

  “Just joined yesterday. My doctor says I gotta exercise. So I’m heading out to the aquatics area. Thought I’d swim a few laps. How about you?”

  “I just dropped off Justin, Toby’s boy, for his swim lesson. And while he’s there, I’m going to take a yoga class. They’re offering free classes this month.”

  “You and Toby are getting pretty tight,” Mr. Murdock said, lifting a single gray brow in that paternal way of his.

  “We’re just friends. I’ve been helping out with the kids.”

  “Humph.” Mr. Murdock folded his arms and rested them on his ample belly. “Is that what you call it?”

  Okay, so she’d been questioning that herself, too. But she wasn’t about to admit it—especially in public.

  “No need for you to be jealous, Mr. Murdock.” She gave the old man a wink. “My heart will always belong to you.”

  “Glad to hear that, Girly. I’m getting pretty used to having you around the house.” Then he winked back at her and shuffled off toward the pool, leaving her to scope out that yoga class—which she’d better hurry to or she’d be late.

  When the class was over and she’d released her last pose, Angie didn’t stick around to talk to anyone. Instead she hurried to meet Justin and buy him that treat.

  But when she reached the vending machines, he was nowhere in sight. Were there other places to get snacks in the building that she hadn’t known about? Some that were outside?

  Oh, no. Not by the pool. She’d tried to tempt him with a treat to keep him away from the water.

  She quickly made her way out to the aquatics area, which was directly behind the building. But after a quick scan, she still didn’t see him.

  Darn it. Where was he? She should have known better than to have taken that yoga class. She should have sat by the pool and watched his swim lesson instead.

  Panic set in, raising her heart rate to the level of a full-scale cardio workout. She hurried into the building, but she didn’t dare ask if anyone had seen him.

  What if word got out that she’d lost him? Not only would that further perpetuate everyone’s belief that she was unreliable, but social services might get wind of it. What if they investigated Toby and somehow found him lacking because he’d entrusted a child with a flaky, irresponsible friend?

  Mere seconds later, both of those concerns paled when she still hadn’t found Justin. Where could he be?

  When she spotted the swim instructor coming out of the men’s locker room, she nearly accosted him when she asked, “Have you seen Justin Hemings?”

  “No, not since his lesson ended ten minutes ago.”

  Oh, God. He could have been kidnapped, whisked away from here by some predator. And all on her watch.

  Angie rushed back to the aquatics area for one last look, the teenage instructor now fast on her heels.

  The area had pretty much cleared, except for Mr. Murdock, who sat on the edge of the pool’s shallow end, his feet dangling into the water, his face red, his breathing labored, his hand clutching his chest.

  Oh, dear God. Poor Mr. Murdock was having a heart attack. What else could possibly go wrong?

  “Call 911,” she told the swim instructor. “That man needs an ambulance.”

  Then she ran to her friend to let him know that help was on the way. When she reached him, he pointed to the pool, where Justin’s body lay at the bottom.

  “No!” she screamed, as she leaped into the water, clothes and all. She grabbed the child, pulled him to the surface and dragged him to the steps. “I’ve got you, honey. I’ve got you.”

  Justin, whose eyes opened and grew wide, appeared dazed. Or was he confused? He looked at Mr. Murdock, gasped, then called out, “What was my time? Did I win?”

  “Win?” Angie shrieked. “Win what?”

  “Me and Mr. Murdock were having a contest to see who could hold their breath the longest.”

  In her panic to save the boy’s life, Angie had nearly forgotten about Mr. Murdock. But several bystanders, as well as YMCA employees, had now gathered around the older man and were trying to help.

  “Are you okay?” one woman who appeared to be in management asked the retired marine.

  “The paramedics are on their way,” the teenage swim instructor said.

  “You won...that round,” Mr. Murdock told Justin, his voice coming out in short little pants. “But give me...a second. We’ll go...best two...out of three.”

  A contest? They’d been having a fool competition?

  Angie, who’d always prided herself on being cool, calm and collected in a crisis, practically shouted, “Nobody is going back in that water. You two nearly scared the living daylights out of me. And the whole time you were only competing in a stupid challenge. I can’t blame Justin for acting childish. But really, Mr. Murdock, you should know better.”

  Before the elderly man could respond or even catch his breath, the ambulance arrived, along with a hook-and-ladder truck. Two firemen brought a gurney to the pool, while a female paramedic carried her bag and placed it next to Mr. Murdock.

  The tough old man waved her away, especially when she tried to attach an oxygen mask to his face.

  Justin seemed none the worse for wear, thank goodness.

  “Can I have a ride in the ambulance?” he asked one of the firemen.

  “That depends,” the fireman said, nodding toward Mr. Murdock. “Is this man your grandfather? And did you ride with him here today?”

  “No, they’re not related,” Angie clarified. “And we’re not riding in the ambulance. We need to go back to the ranch.”

  “Then can I see how you turn on the siren?” the boy asked.

  “Maybe after we get this gentleman loaded up,” the fireman said.

  “Who, me?” Mr. Murdock asked, apparently realizing that the 911 call had been made for him. “I ain’t going nowhere in no damn ambulance. And I don’t need no siren. My ticker is just fine. I only got a little winded after a friendly competition with the boy.”

  “A competition?” the paramedic asked. “Maybe we should start at the beginning. What’s going on here?”

  Justin explained what had happened, going so far as to tell them how Angie had tried to save his life, even though it didn’t need saving.

  “Mr. Murdock beat me the first round,” Justin said, “but he taught me how to let the bubbles out my nose to keep the air in my lungs longer.”

  “Well, I don’t think Mr. Murdock’s lungs are doing so great right about now,” Angie mumbled in frustration. Her worry now switched to the old man.

  Mr. Murdock finally ripped the oxygen mask out of the female paramedic’s well-intentioned hand and threw it about ten feet into the pool.

  Then he pointed an arthritic finger at the poor woman only trying to do her job. “I said I don’t need medical attention. What I need is a Scotch and a cigarette.”

  Angie wanted to tell the old man that she didn’t think his lungs could take the extra stress of inhaling tobacco right this second. But before she could, he turned to her and said, “You done good, Girly. No one was drowning, but if the kid had been, your response time was the quickest I’ve ever seen.”

 
; A wet Mr. Murdock in a saggy bathing suit shuffled to his feet and dripped his way to the changing rooms with the paramedics still following him.

  A 911 call was big news and everyone inside the YMCA had now gathered around the pool area to watch. There was no getting around it. She was going to be the talk of the town before nightfall.

  Angie, her yoga outfit drenched in water and stuck tight to her skin, pulled Justin into her lap and held him close. Thank God everything had turned out okay.

  Still, as she glanced at the oxygen mask floating to the deep end of the pool, she sighed. What a day. She might have had the best of intentions, but she’d really screwed up.

  How was she ever going to tell Toby that she’d nearly lost Justin—and that she just might be as flighty and irresponsible as everyone seemed to think that she was?

  * * *

  Toby had just pulled the chicken off his outdoor grill when the headlights of Angie’s Toyota flashed, letting him know she was turning up the drive that led to his house.

  He’d put Brian in charge of making the salad with the promise that if the kid could master assembling some easy dishes in the kitchen, Toby would teach him how to man the grill next time.

  And it had worked like a charm.

  When Angie and Justin climbed from the car, Toby called out, “You guys are just in time for dinner.”

  Neither of them spoke as they slowly made their way to the patio at the side of the house.

  That seemed a bit odd.

  Toby flashed Angie a smile, which she didn’t return. And that was his second clue that something had gone wrong.

  Why was her hair all wet and slicked back?

  Uh-oh. Her clothes were wet, too.

  Before he could ask, she said, “We had a bit of an incident at the pool.”

  “What happened?”

  When she didn’t give him a speedy reply, Justin answered. “Me and Mr. Murdock were having a breath-holding contest, and Angie thought I was drowning. So she jumped in the pool to save me.”

  Justin glanced at Angie, then at Toby, his eyes wary as though he was bracing himself for a scolding. But Toby was still waiting for Angie to say something.

  Apparently, thinking he was off the hook, Justin brightened and really opened up. “It was pretty sweet, though. The firemen and paramedics came—with sirens and everything. But best of all, I beat Mr. Murdock at holding my breath. And then he cussed. And Angie yelled at both of us. And even though the fireman said I couldn’t ride in the ambulance, but I could look inside, Angie wouldn’t let me. But that’s okay, because—”

  Toby interrupted the boy’s rambling dialogue and said, “Kiddo, why don’t you go get some dry clothes on before dinner. I’ll let Angie tell me the rest of the story.”

  There was no telling what all had transpired at the YMCA earlier, but knowing Justin’s history of wandering off and Mr. Murdock’s fierce competitive streak, Toby was able to piece a lot of it together.

  After Justin ran inside, Toby turned his full attention to the soaking-wet woman. She’d better get out of her clothes, too.

  Whoops. Now that was an intriguing thought. And an arousing one, seeing how the Lycra now covered her like a sexy layer of skin. But as tears filled her eyes, his thoughts cooled to sympathy.

  Justin said she’d been angry earlier, but she appeared to be hurt now. Crushed, actually.

  Uh-oh. This was bad.

  What in blazes had happened?

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to that yoga class. I should’ve just stayed out by the pool with him. And then, when he wasn’t where he was supposed to meet me, I thought of all the terrible things that could have happened to him, and I panicked. I guess you could say I had a meltdown, and everyone saw the whole thing.”

  “It couldn’t have been that bad,” he said.

  “Oh, no? If I’d been on an E.R. reality show, the TV ratings would have shot through the roof. It was terrible, and I completely lost it.”

  She started rambling then, just as Justin had. And while her sweet face still looked confused in the aftermath of her unnecessary panic attack, the snug workout pants sent his testosterone soaring, and he nearly dropped the platter of grilled chicken he was holding.

  Damn. If he didn’t have his hands full, he’d pull her to him, wet Lycra and all, just to offer his comfort and whatever else he could.

  “Salad’s ready!” Brian yelled out the side door. “I’m starved. Can we start eating?”

  “You go ahead and eat with the kids,” Angie told him. “I’m not hungry. I need to go home and get out of these wet clothes. If you want to talk more about it, we can do that in the morning.”

  Then she turned toward her car.

  “Wait!” Toby called to her back.

  When she turned around, he said, “I’ll give you some dry clothes and a glass of wine. You look like you could use both. And after dinner, you and I can sit down and enjoy some quiet time—adults only. Then you can tell me what happened. Or, if you’d rather, you can forget all about it.”

  Whatever would make her smile again.

  That was, unless she wanted to get the hell away from him and the kids as fast as her toned legs would carry her.

  And quite frankly, he wouldn’t blame her if she did. After all, he’d known all along how it would end. And he’d implied as much to her a few days ago when they’d discussed his nonexistent love life.

  Women saw him as some sort of Captain Rescue at first. And then they ran for the hills as soon as they came face-to-face with the reality of dealing with three kids, each of whom still had some issues after living in a dysfunctional household with their aunt Barbara. But they seemed to be getting through all that, especially since Angie had started coming around.

  “You know,” she said, “a glass of wine sounds great. Besides, if I go home now and run into Mr. Murdock, I just might ring his little ole leatherneck.”

  Toby laughed. At least her sense of humor was coming back.

  He shifted the plate into his left hand, then slipped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

  A guy could get used to comforting her, even when she was soaking wet. In fact, Toby might have just stood there, holding her all night, except he had children to feed.

  “Come on,” he said, as he led her to the kitchen, where the kids had gathered.

  Once inside, he assigned them all chores so they could eat sooner. “Check the rice steamer, Brian. Kylie, set a place for Angie. She’s staying for dinner.”

  Kylie, who was down on her hands and knees, looked up from the floor, where she was picking up some dropped silverware. “I already set the table. Well, all but the forks and spoons.”

  Toby was about to warn her to get fresh utensils from the drawer, then he figured he may as well forget it since the housekeeper had been here today and had mopped the floor. So at least for tonight, the three-second rule for germ-free drops had become a three-minute rule, as far as he was concerned.

  While the kids did as they’d been asked, Toby took Angie to his bedroom, where he began opening drawers, looking for something she could wear, something that might fit.

  When he caught her looking at the king-sized bed in the center of the room, he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was.

  And just what was he thinking?

  Right now, he didn’t dare put it into words. Instead, he haphazardly handed her a worn-out Houston Texans T-shirt, along with a pair of his old cross-country shorts from Horseback Hollow High, which he figured would be too big.

  If he had his way, he’d prefer to see her stay in those tight pants and sports tank. But they were wet. And even if they were dry, he had to find something else for her to wear—and quick.


  It was killing him to see her looking so sexy and so vulnerable at the same time, especially since she was just an arm’s distance and mere steps away from his bed.

  “While you change,” he said, “I’ll get the wine.”

  Minutes later, everyone was sitting in their places when Angie came to the table. The kids must have picked up on her solemn mood, because they were so quiet you could hear a pin drop—or a man’s heart beat, his blood race.

  She’d rolled his shorts up at the waist to make them fit her. The shirt barely reached the hem of the shorts, making it look as though she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

  Man, he needed to get a grip. There were kids present.

  And thankfully, the kids soon began to chatter, because Angie remained quiet through dinner, sipping her wine and picking at her food.

  When everyone else had eaten their fill, Toby said, “Okay, guys, no TV tonight. It’s already time to pick up your rooms, take your baths and get ready for bed.”

  It really wasn’t all that late, but Toby had waited long enough to get Angie alone.

  With her being as pensive as she’d been at dinner, he hadn’t expected her to help out with the evening routine the way she’d done the other night she’d been here. But she surprised him by stepping right up to the plate, which was nice. The kids liked having her around.

  He did, too. But he’d have to be careful that nobody got too attached. Especially him.

  When Toby finished reading the next chapter of Treasure Island, Angie was still with Kylie, so he went to the kitchen and started to clean up. He’d just loaded the dishwasher when she entered the room, her shoulders slumped.

  “Come on,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “The rest of this can wait until tomorrow.”

  After refilling her wineglass, he grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge for himself. Then they walked into the living room. The house was noticeably quieter with all the kids tucked in.

  She took a sip of the chardonnay before practically collapsing on the sofa. He recognized the signs of an adrenaline dump. Or maybe she was just emotionally exhausted.

  He sat next to her, and it seemed only natural to reach out, to touch her shoulder, to finger her hair. “Okay, tell me what’s bothering you.”