“But not Desmond?”
“With Desmond, it’s different. They want something from him.”
His head turned; she knew he was looking at her. “What?”
“For him to be Andrew, reincarnated. His father,” she explained. “It’s almost creepy, how desperately they want to believe he’s just like his dad. It’s so intense, I can tell it freaks him even though he doesn’t know what they’re asking from him.”
“How did your husband die?”
“A car accident. His fault. He was speeding. He…liked to drive fast.” He’d scared her sometimes, when she was in the car with him. To his credit, he’d never exceeded the speed limit when either of the kids were in the car. “He went off the road. Thank God he didn’t hit anyone else.”
“Didn’t you own a home?”
“I thought we did. Turned out we owed more than it was worth. And there were other debts.” So many, ones she hadn’t known about. She’d believed them to be solvent, even prosperous. Drew had had a good job with the county. Wasn’t he the stereotype of reliability?
Niall didn’t say anything for a bit. With a strange sense of desperation, Rowan wondered if this was why she’d wanted him to stay. So she could tell him things she could never say to anyone else.
“How long did you live with your parents-in-law?”
“Fourteen months. I would have asked Gran, but…”
His voice held a smile. “Enid? And two small kids?”
This time Rowan’s laugh loosened something in her. “Yeah. That’s what I thought, too. Only in the end, she rescued us after all.”
She looked away from Niall, wondering at her own melodrama. Rescued? Things weren’t that bad at the Staleys. Only uncomfortable.
“Your parents?”
“In the middle of getting a divorce, and acting as if they’re about nineteen. ‘He said. She said. Why don’t you talk to your father,’” she mimicked. “It feels surreal.”
His low chuckle was almost as good as a touch. A hug.
The thought crept sideways into her mind—what would it feel like to be held by Niall? His shoulders were so broad. She could tell he was strong. Could he be tender and affectionate without…without wanting more? Without wanting something unpleasant?
“You have great kids. You’re doing all right, Rowan.”
That made her eyes sting. “Thank you. And…and thank you for…you know. Trying, the way you said you would. You were our hero yesterday. The scene would have been way worse if you hadn’t stepped in.”
“Would it? I had the impression I made them mad.”
“Only because you kept them from having their way.” She sighed. “I guess I’ve been a coward. Maybe I should try to make them understand what they’re doing. Why I have to pull away.”
“You haven’t said anything?”
“I’ve tried, in a beating around the bush kind of way. It upsets Donna, which gets Glenn’s back up.” She sighed. “I wish they lived farther away. Or I lived farther away.”
“Your parents nearby?”
“Dad is. He’s still in their house here in town. Mom claims now she always hated it. She’s gone to stay with my aunt Mina in Portland. I’m sure she’ll be back when…well, she gets over Dad.”
Despite everything, this silence felt relaxed. Niall leaned down and scratched Sam’s neck. The dog’s tail thumped and he leaned into the caress.
“So. Anna’s surgery is Friday.”
Her stomach knotted. “Yes.”
“What time of day?”
“Early. We have to be there at seven-thirty.”
He made a sound, impossible to interpret. “Your dad going with you?”
“I didn’t ask him.” Her mind boggled at the thought. She loved him, but he’d been a sort of weekend father even when he wasn’t. Mom did the practical, have-to-be-done things: the diapers, the parent-teacher conferences, the bandage on the skinned knee, the talks on serious subjects. Dad was good for fun. She simply couldn’t imagine him volunteering to accompany her to the emergency room the way Niall had. There was a reason, after all, that she hadn’t asked if she and the kids could live with him. And that he hadn’t offered. It was partly the succession of women he was dating, but not entirely.
Suddenly terribly conscious of the man sitting not too much more than an arm’s reach away, Rowan felt a lump form in her throat. I want you there Friday, she admitted, although she would never, ever say it aloud.
“Do you miss your husband?”
Wow. That came out of left field. Her movement on the glider became jerky as she tried to figure out how to answer.
“Yes.” Honest. “And no.” Honest, too.
He looked at her, his face shadowed. “Not a perfect marriage?”
“Is there such a thing?” She hated sounding so bitter.
“I don’t know.” Niall hesitated. “My brother sounds happy, but they’ve only been married a year.”
It hadn’t taken her a year to realize how unhappy her marriage was making her.
“You think you know someone.” That burst out of her.
“That bad?” he asked gently.
“No.” She made herself take a few deep breaths. “No. It was…complicated. Drew was a good father. He really loved his children.”
And her. She believed he’d loved her, too. In fairness, they hadn’t had a bad marriage except in the bedroom, and maybe he couldn’t help that.
Inexplicably, Rowan felt compelled to go on. “I wouldn’t have stayed with him otherwise. My parents, well, Dad didn’t do his part. I wouldn’t put up with that from a man.”
“Or even from your tenant.” Amusement deepened his voice.
Maybe she should be embarrassed, but Rowan laughed instead. “I sounded awfully demanding, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but I don’t blame you. I was blowing hot and cold. That’s confusing for a kid.”
For a woman, too. She had the sudden, aching hope that he wouldn’t go cold on her again. This—having a listening ear, an adult to talk to who didn’t criticize, didn’t have an agenda—felt amazing. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have this all the time.
Her arms closed around herself. Of course she didn’t want that. She was envisioning some sort of Norman Rockwell relationship, mom and dad and the kids, but Norm hadn’t painted mom and dad in their bedroom.
She stole a look at Niall sidelong, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry that she couldn’t see him any better. Would a man who could be so gentle and patient hurt her?
He hadn’t seemed interested in her that way at all, although a few times she’d seen flickers of expression that had made her wonder. Maybe he needed a friend, too. Or felt a sense of obligation for some reason. Because he’d cared for Gran? Or because Des reminded him of himself in some way?
“What if I come with you Friday?”
“What?” She stared at him.
“I’d like to come Friday.”
“You’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
Rowan gulped. “Don’t you have to work?”
“I can take the morning off.”
Her chest burned. Probably she should make some polite disclaimer, but he wouldn’t have offered if he hadn’t meant it, would he? “I would love it if you could come.”
“Good.” He rose to his feet then. “I’ll wish you good night. We should leave by seven on Friday?”
“Ugh. Yes.”
He laughed. “Sleep tight.”
“And don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Niall was disappearing into the darkness. Dematerializing again. But his voice floated back. “Thanks to Super Sam, you probably have a few.”
/> How wonderful it was to be smiling when she slipped back into the house. Feeling relief and joy and, yes, trepidation, because why was he being so nice? But she was so grateful that he was.
He was the kind of man she could…
No! Don’t even think it. Not happening.
Okay, then. But she still felt happy. And yes, Niall MacLachlan was the reason why.
CHAPTER SIX
“I HEAR YOU’RE TAKING the morning off,” Duncan observed. They were at the dinner table Thursday night, and Jane, as well as Duncan, watched Niall with interested faces.
Well, damn. He’d been glad of the dinner invitation because he’d felt the need to have a day away from Rowan and her kids. It wasn’t easy when they lived so close. With the long, light summer evenings, they were often outside. Even if Desmond didn’t come knocking, Niall would hear them: a laugh from Rowan, or a remonstrance for one of the kids. Sam would bark, Anna giggle. There would be the whack of plastic bat against a whiffle ball. And Niall would find himself drawn outside. It wouldn’t hurt him, he’d think, to give the kid some batting tips. Or hoist Anna into the branches of the apple tree, then stand below to guard her. Give Rowan a momentary break. After all, it was summer. He didn’t want to huddle inside, did he?
“Good lasagna,” he said to his sister-in-law before looking at his brother. “I am taking a few hours off tomorrow. Is that a problem?”
“How can it be? The city must still owe you a month or more of vacation.”
He made a noncommital sound.
They waited. Disgruntled, he realized Jane, formerly more impatient, had soaked up some of her husband’s techniques.
“One of the landlady’s kids is having surgery in the morning. Tonsils and adenoids. The little girl. I volunteered to go along and help distract her son,” he mumbled.
Jane’s eyes were bright with astonishment. “That’s…really nice of you.”
He scowled at her. “You didn’t think I could be nice?”
“Well, yes, but… Not that way. Or at least—” She looked to Duncan for help.
“This Rowan isn’t your usual kind of lady,” Duncan said.
“It’s not like that. We’re not involved.”
“You seem pretty involved.”
“I mean, it’s not, uh, sexual.” He flicked a glance at Jane, with her rich blue eyes and warm brown hair. “Or romantic.”
Romantic. Good God. Had he ever used that word in his life?
“You’re not interested in her, then.” Duncan sounded intrigued. A year ago, he’d have been unlikely to ask at all about any relationship Niall had with a woman. He certainly wouldn’t have pursued it beyond a casual inquiry. He’d changed, though. Was it like a smoker who’d quit, and was now ardent to reform everyone else? The thought filled Niall with alarm.
The question filled him with alarm, too. Because of course he was interested in Rowan. What man wouldn’t be, seeing that luscious, petite body day in and day out, half the time clad in no more than shorts and tank top that bared a disturbing amount of smooth flesh gaining a warm, golden tan?
He also knew he didn’t dare take that attraction anywhere. Duncan was right—she was different, not Niall’s kind of woman. He’d taken to repeating that to himself half a dozen times a day. It was one of the many reasons he was dodging her and her children tonight. He’d hoped for distraction, not an inquisition.
“She’s got kids,” he said shortly.
Jane’s mouth opened, then closed. Thank God. He didn’t need anyone to point out that Rowan’s children weren’t necessarily the stopping point that kids usually were for him, that he was involved with them, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
The fact that he cared about them made it all the more essential that he not make a move on their mother. That would only increase expectations. Ones he couldn’t fulfill. He was trying to help them out a little, not make things worse for them down the line when he moved out.
“Are you still looking for another place?” his brother asked, as if reading his mind.
After a moment, he shook his head. “As long as I play the bagpipe before the kids’ bedtime, Rowan seems okay with it. I like the cottage. I’ve even gotten used to the dog.” A grin tugged at his mouth. “Did I tell you he likes to dig?”
They laughed at his tales of the homely dog’s attempts to tunnel to God knows where. “He’s made it into the crawl space. I’m pretty sure he’s spending the nights digging holes underneath the cottage, but who’s to know?”
They laughed some more, and the subject got changed. Niall found himself watching Jane, though, gently rubbing her belly when she stood up to clear the table and bring dessert. Duncan was watching her, too, an expression on his face that shook Niall. The stone man had feelings. It shouldn’t still surprise him, but every so often he caught something new on his big brother’s face. Tenderness or another kind of softness that made emotions Niall didn’t understand threaten to break free inside him, too.
He couldn’t let that happen. Not feeling much of anything was safe. The decision had been an unconscious one for him; he was in his twenties before he realized he’d made it and when. By then, he didn’t know how to unmake it even if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t. Look at him lately—he couldn’t help feeling things, and he didn’t like it. Why suffer from recurrent heartburn if you didn’t have to?
But he could be nice, could relate well to people, without getting emotionally involved. He relaxed now, thinking it over. Yes, in a way he guessed he was involved with Rowan, Anna and Desmond, but it wasn’t and didn’t have to be deeply emotional. So it was okay, as long as he kept it that way.
He lingered at his brother’s until near dusk. He could see lights on in the main house when he got home. He went inside himself, decided reluctantly that it was too late to play the bagpipe, and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He should hit the sack soon, even though it was early by his standards. If he wanted coffee, a shower and maybe breakfast before they left for the hospital in the morning, he’d have to be up not much after six. The thought made him grimace. He’d always been a night owl. His one regret at giving up patrol had been also giving up the night shift.
Rowan was probably getting the kids in bed about now. No, Anna would already be down for the night, but Rowan had been letting Des stay up late. Realizing where his thoughts had drifted, Niall swore aloud. This was one night when he wouldn’t watch to see whether Rowan came out on her porch, as she often did at this time of night. Instead, he retreated to his bedroom, where he piled pillows against the headboard and stretched out to read.
He had his window open, the screen keeping out night flying insects. He smiled to hear snuffling and then scratching as Sam squeezed himself under the cottage.
A high, terrified scream rent the night. It sounded so damn close, he all but fell over the edge in his lunge to get out of bed.
Swearing, Niall snatched up the gun on the nightstand and ran for the front door. Damn it, damn it, damn it. It had to be one of the kids who’d screamed. Thank God he hadn’t stripped off his jeans yet.
Halfway across the lawn it occurred to him that he might be overreacting. He was going to feel bloody stupid, barrelling into the house only to find Anna had had a nightmare. But the sense of urgency didn’t leave him, and he didn’t slow down.
The back door was unlocked. Why the hell didn’t she lock it? Somebody could have walked right in! The lights were still on downstairs. He saw no one.
“Rowan?” he bellowed.
“Niall?” He heard a sob of relief in her voice. “I’m upstairs.”
So was he by that time. Anna was crying in her bedroom, but Rowan appeared in Des’s doorway, shock and fear on her face. Her eyes dilated at the sight of the gun he held at his side, but all she did was swallow.
&
nbsp; “What is it?” he said roughly.
“Desmond saw somebody looking in his window.”
“What?” His first instinct was to reject it; maybe the kid had had a nightmare. But then he pictured the outside of the house and the flat roof of the carport that was right beneath Desmond’s bedroom window.
Without a word, Niall turned and ran back the way he’d come. Before he made it outside, he heard Sam barking furiously at the gate. When Niall unlatched it, they both raced out. With a chill, he saw a stepladder that usually hung on one of the support posts was set up beyond his motorcycle, at the edge of the carport. He boosted himself enough to see that no one was up on the roof. Of course the bastard would have taken off when Desmond screamed.
Dropping back to the ground, Niall went after the dog around the front of the house. Sam had disappeared. Even knowing he’d been too late getting out here, Niall held his gun two-handed and investigated every damn shrub in Rowan’s yard and the next one, too. He’d have given a lot to have a high-powered flashlight but made do with light from the streetlamps.
Had somebody intended to break in? Burglars usually had more sense. Daytime was safer, or the middle of the night when residents were all sound asleep. Maybe Desmond’s window had been dark, but Rowan had still been up and other lights in the house were on. Hell, the back door was unlocked.
Wait. If Des’s bedroom light had been out, how had he seen a face at the window?
Niall walked out to the street and whistled. He listened hard and finally heard the hard click of claws on pavement and then the pant of breath. Sam appeared, running down the middle of the road. Niall wondered if he’d caught the son of a bitch. He’d have probably licked him if he had.
Then Niall remembered the deep, vicious sound of that bark and wondered. Sam might be ugly as sin and dumb as a box of rocks, but he still had the protective instincts of his species. And he was unquestionably Desmond’s dog, for all his easy affection for the rest of the family and even for Niall.
Rowan was still upstairs when he got back. She sat on the top step, one arm around each kid, huddled against her. Sam bounded up ahead of Niall and flung himself at them. Desmond toppled backward, his arms around the dog.
From Father to Son Page 9
