by Norah Wilson
She bit her lip, glanced toward the house. “Can we talk someplace more private?”
“There,” he said. “The Far South Barn.” He led her across the grass to the outbuilding. Skirting the pile of painting supplies he’d just deposited, he opened the door for her. She preceded him in, then stopped.
“Give it a minute and your eyes will adjust.” He stepped in behind her and closed the door.
It was a bright day outside, but the well-maintained barn had very little light coming in. High windows allowed a few streams of it to fall down into the room. The loft was a different story. Though those wide doors were closed now, on more than a few mornings he’d watched the sunrise from there.
“What a beautiful old building.”
He murmured an agreement, but couldn’t take his eyes off her face as she looked around. She seemed to be drinking the place in. The soft lighting, the smells, the motes of dust dancing in the focused streams of sunlight
“Lots of memories here, I bet.” With a soft smile on her lips, she turned her face up to him.
Memories? Yeah, the place was steeped in them.
And he was about to make another one.
He pulled her to him.
They’d agreed not to do this. Every time they’d fooled around, one or the other of them had pulled back, remembering why it was such a disastrous idea. But as with those other times, she went into his arms easily, eagerly. When he covered her mouth, she met his demand with a matching hunger.
Just like that, he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow.
Chapter 7
APRIL WAS drowning, but she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went up on tiptoe, the better to press her breasts against his lean strength. He groaned and pulled her hips closer. Another wave of desire washed over her when she felt his hardness against her belly, but she recklessly submersed herself in it.
Then he was moving her, backing her up. Within seconds, she found the small of her back bumping up against something. Before she could figure out what it was, he lifted her and deposited her onto a hard surface. A wooden sideboard or storage cabinet of some kind, she thought. He urged her legs apart and moved between them. With his hands now free, they roamed her body at will. From her hair to her nape. From her breasts to the outsides of her thighs. She gloried in every sensation. Then he lifted her T-shirt out of the way and bent to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the top of her left breast above the lacy cup of her bra.
For whatever reason—maybe the cool air on her midriff—she finally came to her senses.
She gripped his shoulders, pushing him away. “Stop.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Scott, we can’t…”
“Right.” He stepped back, turning away to adjust himself.
Oh, God, what was she thinking? As if her life wasn’t already complicated enough. The troubles with Sidney. This move to Nova Scotia to live with her jerk of a brother. The fifth move in her daughter’s young life. Not to mention losing her job and her one and only chance to meet K.Z. McCoy. Top that off with how she felt about Scott…
He was a man who lived life on the road; she was a mother. She would not feel for him. Could not feel for him. It would be sheer stupidity. And so dangerous for Sidney’s heart. For her own.
April eased herself off the sideboard—it was definitely a sideboard, rustic and rough and probably built expressly for the parties held here—and smoothed her clothing. Well, best it could be smoothed after so many cramped hours in the car.
Scott pulled a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No, I’m sorry.” He waved off her apology. “You’re tired after that drive, emotional from the reunion. Unsettled, literally. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“I’m glad you did.” She forced a smile. “I know it doesn’t change things, but I can’t say I regret it.”
He smiled back at her. “Me either.”
“So.” She cleared her throat. “This is the famous Far South Barn, huh?” She walked a little deeper into the near-empty expanse, giving herself a moment to settle before she turned back to face him.
“Famous?” Scott smiled. “I don’t know about that. Maybe in Harkness.”
“Well, Harkness is the Heart of the Prince Region, isn’t it?” She cocked her head. “Unofficially.”
Scott lifted an eyebrow.
“You mentioned it to me once. Harkness is the heart of the Prince Region, and the Standish Farm the heart of Harkness.
“You’ve got a good memory.”
Especially when it comes to you, Scott Standish. But she couldn’t have him thinking that. She shrugged. “Can’t help it.” She tapped her head. “This brain is a steel trap.”
“Is that how you dash off those dishes without cracking a recipe book? From memory? Or is it all improvisation?”
“All cooks improvise with some elements, but the core of the dish is usually a carefully tested recipe.”
“Ah, I remember. We’ve had this discussion before. You have to have the science down before you dabble with the art, right?”
“Exactly.” She looked around the barn. “You know, I can almost picture this place full of people, dancing, drinking punch…”
“The band always sets up there,” Scott pointed to a raised section of flooring at the narrow end of the barn farthest from the door.
The place actually reminded her of every elementary school gym she’d ever seen. Except currently, there were no parents sitting in folding chairs, their winter coats unzipped as they waited for the curtain to open at the Christmas concert. She remembered all of Sid’s concerts. Her kindergarten class’s song-and-dance routine to the tune of Jingle Bell Rock. The time the two of them had sat up nights attaching silver glitter to stars bound for the stage backdrop, and red and green sequins to an elf hat. We Wish You a Merry Christmas sung through a toothless grin that made it sound more like with you a Merry Chrithmath. April had sat all by herself in those various gymnasiums with all the other moms, dads, grandparents, and aunts.
“And see all these tables along this wall?” He gestured to a row of five mismatched tables and sideboards—one of which she’d just been sitting on—lining the wall behind them.
“That’s where you set up the meals?” She could picture it so clearly, those surfaces laden with food and punch bowls. If she were handling it, she’d move one of those tables to relocate the liquid refreshments to a separate area. That would clear some of the congestion around the buffet tables.
“Yup. It’s officially a potluck, but we’d always provide a few main course dishes. Folks would bring lawn chairs and we’d line them up along the walls. Of course, the kids never really needed chairs. Too much room to run, and too much energy to sit still. And the atmosphere…”
“What?” she prompted when he let his words trail off.
He shrugged. “There’s an excitement. An air of anticipation. You just know something’s going to happen.”
April drew in a breath and let it out slowly as she looked around the barn. Her eyes had adjusted now to the low lighting. The beauty. She could see it—how the place would take on that atmosphere.
“Anyway, the kids run from one end of the barn to the other. We have games for them. Little contests and stuff.”
“It’s beautiful here.” When she turned back around he was staring at her, a serious look on his face.
“April, what’s going on? Why is the car packed?”
She raised a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture, then crept to the barn door and opened it. Light spilled in as she looked around the yard. No sign of Sid. She closed the door again.
When she turned back around, Scott was watching her quizzically.
“Sorry about that. I just didn’t want Sidney to overhear me.”
“That bad?”
“The Boisverts fired me.”
He didn’t look surprised. Why should he be? Sidne
y stealing Mr. Boisvert’s credit card to rescue that dog from euthanasia. Running away, disrupting the Boisvert’s courtship of a critically important potential client.
“That sucks, April. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged as if it was nothing. But it was—they both knew it.
“So they just told you to get out. No notice?”
“They gave me severance pay,” she said. “And a week to clear out, but since I was driving down here anyway for Sid, I just left. We’ll just keep going.”
“Keep going where?” His eyes narrowed.
April paused. “Dartmouth,” she whispered.
“Jesus, April. Him? Your brother.” His jaw tightened. While Scott had shared tales from his childhood, April had shared with him a couple of her own. Only life as a Standish in Harkness had been significantly different than life for a female child under Morgan rule.
“Harley’s a jerk, but it’s just for a little while. Just until I find a good position.”
“A position good enough to support you and Sid both,” he said, his tone thoughtful.
“Sidney needs the stability. I’ve tried to give her that.”
“You have given her that.”
“She’s never had a truly permanent home.”
“She’s had you.”
April shook her head. “I know. And I know I’ve been a good mom. At least I’ve tried to be. But lately…maybe I’ve been working too hard at the Boisverts. Didn’t pay her enough attention. Kids need that.”
“That and a dog.”
April laughed darkly. “A dog. Well, that’s the last thing Harley would have in his house. Anything that might make a mess doesn’t get through the front door.” She cringed at that, thinking of Sid’s science projects spread out over their kitchen in Montreal. Her sneakers and socks, under the dining room table. Marshmallow fights.
“Then maybe the two of you shouldn’t use that front door.”
“You think he’d make us use the back door?” Her stomach knotted. “Oh, God, he might. That sounds like something he would do.”
She put her head in her hands. What the hell was she going to do? She was so tired. Her muscles ached from the drive and she was scared for the future. For Sidney’s future. Tears stung her eyes.
“Hey, don’t cry.”
She felt the warmth of his hands gripping her shoulders. Earlier his touch had been charged with the potent electricity of desire. Now, it offered only comfort as he urged her into his arms.
“I’m sorry, April. I didn’t mean it like that.” He folded her tighter against him. “I don’t think even Harley would do that.”
For a few seconds, she just stood there and breathed him in—the fresh smell of his recently laundered flannel shirt mixed with the clean, male scent that was all his. Reluctantly, she lifted her face from his chest to look up at him. “Then what did you mean?”
“I meant, stay here. Rent free. With us.”
With us?
“Here? Scott Booker Standish, if you think I’m looking for charity from you, then you don’t know me very well.”
He grinned, no doubt at the full-name treatment. She usually reserved that for her daughter, but if he thought for a minute that—
“Charity? Oh, sweetheart, that’s not what I had in mind.”
Argh! If all Standish men were this damned cryptic, it was a wonder they’d managed procreation. “Maybe you’d like to elaborate about what you do have in mind?”
“Stay here. Let us hire you for the next couple of months.”
“But I know nothing about farm work.”
Those dimples flashed again. “No, not as a farmhand. I meant doing domestic stuff. Kitchen help—at least for a while. Titus is going to be busy building up his motorcycle restoration business. Ember’ll be opening a medical practice and working long hours. It’s soon going to get busy with apple-picking, and I’m going to be juggling some house repairs over the next two months. With all of us going full tilt, we could use the help.”
“A couple of months?”
“Well, that’s how long I’ll be here. Two months. Till the first of January, basically.”
“Scott, I—”
“Don’t say no until you’ve had a chance to think about it, April. I think it could be good for both of us. I’m in charge of the farm for the rest of the year. Ember and Titus are going to be too busy to do much around here. And while Uncle Arden can make a basic meal, that’ll get old fast. I really will need the help keeping this place going.”
“I don’t know.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “I’m not looking for a handout.”
He laughed. “A handout? You’re kidding, right? You don’t know the appetite we Standish men have.”
“Don’t I? I’ve fed you, remember.”
“What do you say, April? Stay here and help us for a while. You can look around for something else from here—not from that asshole’s place in Dartmouth.”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s a real job offer, April. Not charity. If we don’t hire you, we’ll just give the job to someone else.”
Her heart pounded. Every fiber in her being wanted this—wanted to say yes. Wanted to stay here on this farm, in this heart of Harkness, even if just for a while. Stay here with Scott. But she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“And another thing,” Scott said. “Sidney can take care of Axl for a little while. She would probably love—”
“You bet I’d love that!” The barn door flew open, and Sidney, face red from the cold wind and the sun, burst in. She held yellow-handled paintbrushes in each hand.
“Sidney Morgan, were you eavesdropping?” April asked.
“No, I was listening. There’s a difference. But the point is…can we, Mom? Please?”
Scott looked at April. “What do you say?”
Chapter 8
SCOTT SHOVED the carafe into the coffee maker and hit the button to start the second pot of the morning. The first one had gone down quickly over introductions and small talk.
“So, I was just telling April that we need some domestic help with cooking and such,” he said. “Since she’s an experienced chef, I told her the job is hers if she’ll take it.” He glanced around at everyone. Titus’s eyebrows shot up, but that was the only indication any of them gave that Scott had just dropped a bombshell. “Can you help me persuade her? She seems to think this is a charity offer.”
He glanced at April, who clutched her near-empty coffee cup like a lifeline.
Ember was the first to react. “Well, you certainly have my vote, April. I hope you’ll decide to stay with us. Scott has raved about your cooking.” His sister downed her coffee and leaped up from the table. With a wink at Sid, she grabbed her jacket from the hook on the wall. “I’m heading over to the clinic if anyone needs me.”
“It’s been nice to meet you, Ember,” April said. “Scott’s told me so much about you. About all the family.”
“Well, only believe the good stuff. Unless it’s about Scott, or Titus, then only believe the bad.”
“Hey, watch it,” Titus said.
Ember laughed. “Anyway, I’m meeting with the decorator around eleven. She’s bringing fabric samples for the drapes and color chips for the paint.”
Their sister was all smiles as she talked about the practice she was opening in MacQueen Square. Ember’s fiancé Jace had bought the small, six-unit strip mall. It was two streets west of Main, but still within the downtown. Every unit was vacant right now apart from the one Ember had leased, but Jace aimed to change that. Having a doctor’s office anchoring one end would certainly help, given the traffic it was bound to generate. Jace had scooped the property right out from under WRP Holdings, paying the former owner, Jim Wistaff, handsomely enough to beat his stepbrother’s offer. Terry had been furious. Make that even more furious—he was still pissed off at Jace for undermining him on the sale of the Standish Land. And pissed off at every single Standish. They were sworn enemies no
w.
Scott found himself smiling.
Ember pulled on her coat and wrapped a cherry-red scarf around her neck. “Seriously, it would really be a great relief if you took the job.”
“Thank you,” April said.
“I’m off. Bye, guys!” With her usual speed, Ember swept out to a chorus of goodbyes.
“This is all happening so fast,” April murmured.
Scott could very easily have added an amen to that. Now that April and Sid were here, he was loath to see them go. Especially to her idiot brother, Harley.
“It makes perfect sense to me,” Arden said. “We could sure use the help around here.”
“He’s right,” Titus said, weighing in. “Between Dad and me, we can boil vegetables and fry up steaks, but that’s about the extent of our culinary skills. So if you’re half the cook Scott’s been bragging you up to be, you’ve got my vote too.”
“Oh my gosh, Titus, you’re in for a treat!” That enthusiastic endorsement came from Sidney herself. Everyone looked her way
“Is that so?” Titus drawled.
Sidney had perched herself on a tall stool beside the kitchen counter. “You’ve never tasted blueberry pancakes until you’ve tasted Mom’s. Oh, and do you guys like bacon?”
Scott, Titus, and Uncle Arden exchanged glances. Almost simultaneously, they nodded.
“Well, you haven’t lived until you’ve had one of Mom’s Caesar salads from an oven-warm bacon bowl. It’s crazy good.” She looked around the room, nodding encouragingly.
“My mouth’s already watering,” Uncle Arden said. “Maybe we could have that with supper on Friday?” He smiled at April. “I mean if you’ll take the position.”
Thank you, Uncle Arden.
“I really don’t know what to say,” April said.
“I do,” Sid put in. “We’ll stay, Arden.”
“Whoa there a minute, Sidney,” her mother said. “Not so fast.” She shook her head in an is-this-really-happening way.
Scott couldn’t blame her. In the last forty-eight hours, her world had turned upside down.
