Her son looked sturdier by the minute. “Niall rescues us every time he hears us yell, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.” Damn it, her eyes were burning, but she refused to let tears fall. “So far, he has.” She prayed they didn’t hear the qualification.
Finally, she had enough of a grip on herself. “Are you two ready for breakfast?”
Anna nodded vigorously but didn’t let go of her mom. Desmond said, “I want waffles. Can we have waffles?”
“You bet. Pumpkin,” she said to Anna, “I’m going to have to set you down so I can stand up.”
Niall stood in an easy movement. “I’ll take her,” he said.
Rowan didn’t want to relinquish her daughter to him. She was angry at him, she realized; grateful and resenting the fact that she had to be. He had Desmond convinced he’d always be there for them, but she knew better. Why did he have to be so…so noble? It wasn’t fair.
But after a hesitation she hoped he didn’t notice, she let him take Anna, and even accepted his extended hand and allowed him to hoist her to her feet, too. Of course she had to invite him to breakfast, and the anger churned in her stomach.
“That sounds good. Although maybe I should get dressed first.” He rasped a hand over his jaw. “And shave.”
As they crossed the front porch, she noticed for the first time that he wore sacky sweatpants and a faded T-shirt. He was barefoot and unshaven.
“I used to watch Dad shave,” Desmond piped up. “He said I’d have to someday, too.”
“Yep. You will. Happens to all boys.” He smiled down at Des. “The upside is, boys don’t have to shave their underarms and legs like girls do.”
“I don’t hafta,” Anna told him earnestly. “And I’m a girl.”
“Most girls start shaving about the same age boys do,” Rowan said. “When they’re teenagers.”
She wrinkled her nose. Obviously, that was unimaginably far away.
But Des still had his eye on Niall. “Can I watch you shave?”
“No!” They all looked startled at Rowan’s vehemence. She made herself take a slow breath. “Sorry, sweetie. You can help me mix the waffle batter instead.”
His agreement was reluctant, she could tell. Something had changed on Niall’s face, too. She’d begun to recognize his subtle withdrawal. This time, it was her fault, but she didn’t care. He’d pull away no matter what, so it might as well be sooner rather than later.
The kids scrambled onto chairs in the kitchen. Niall lowered his voice enough they couldn’t hear. “Would you rather I didn’t come back for breakfast?”
“No, of course not,” she managed to say, completely polite. “You know we like having you here.”
A nerve jumped beneath his eye. After a moment, he nodded. “All right. See you in a few minutes.”
But they wouldn’t have, she knew, if he hadn’t once again felt compelled to come to their aid. He was a cop; he’d never fail to do his job. Rowan felt quite sure, however, that Niall would have managed to be busy all weekend if he hadn’t heard the screaming and yelling.
I’m done, she thought, watching him go out the back door. Why this awful scene would have made her feel strong enough to make that decision, Rowan had no idea, but in a weird way she was grateful. She wasn’t going to wait anymore for the yo-yo of his attention to swing her way again.
She’d keep being polite. He had been a good tenant. Nice to the kids, since the one wretched week when he’d hurt Des’s feelings so much. Their hero when they needed him. She would even allow herself to feel grateful that he’d showed her she didn’t have to be afraid of a relationship with a man.
But it wouldn’t be with him, however much she wished it. And she was strong enough to survive.
Rowan plugged in the waffle maker and got down a big mixing bowl from the cupboard. Smiling at her children, she asked, “Who wants to help stir?”
NIALL WATCHED ROWAN over breakfast, admiring the way she juggled conversation, cutting up Anna’s waffle, gentle reminders to use good table manners, and an occasional bite herself. She must be feeling some major turmoil, but kept it from showing for the kids’ sake. He compared her to his mother, most often angry and distracted.
Why had she stayed so long? Why hadn’t she left Dad years before she did? He’d been too young then to speculate, too closed since to analyze. Now he did.
She hadn’t stayed for her boys, he knew that instinctively. She might have told herself that she was doing the best thing for them, but it wasn’t her main motivation, nor was it true. They’d have been better off if she’d taken them and left. Made a home, however poor, that wasn’t imbued with unhappiness.
Maybe she’d liked the money Dad brought home when he’d slid off the straight and narrow and was dealing drugs. Yes, thought Niall, probably. But Dad hadn’t made them rich.
Hell, she could have truly loved Rory MacLachlan.
Niall knew Duncan had family pictures stashed somewhere. Would he get them out to show Jane now that they were expecting a baby? So they could both say, oh, he has your father’s eyes or your great-aunt’s chin?
Niall had only the vaguest memory of his grandparents, the ones on his mother’s side. His grandfather had died of a heart attack, his grandmother of some kind of cancer, he thought. Mom had disappeared for three or four months to nurse her mother. Niall had been…maybe eleven, which would have made Conall eight. Dad wasn’t much use. They’d all run wild.
He didn’t remember his mom’s sister very well, either. She hadn’t liked Rory, Niall knew that, and she had refused to visit. Mom went to see her now and again. That’s where she’d gone when she upped and left for good, Duncan said.
Rory’s charm and lightness of spirit had passed his two older sons by entirely. Only Conall had caught hold of it, probably useful in undercover work.
Rory had been changed by his first lengthy stint in prison. Niall remember his shock when Dad came home, thinner, his hair graying. He’d seemed smaller, maybe only because Niall had grown in his father’s three-year absence. He’d shied at shadows, and yet been ebullient with relief at having his freedom and his family. Full of promises, too, ones Mom listened to at first with caution but must have let herself come to believe in.
Promises as shallow as Dad’s character.
I don’t want to be like him. Not in any way.
Desmond asked him a question and Niall snapped his attention back to the breakfast table and a family so different from his own he sometimes felt as if he’d teleported into another dimension. Anna and Desmond were so damn trusting it hurt to see. And now not only the Peeping Tom but their own grandparents were doing their damnedest to erode that trust.
Over my dead body. The vow came easily.
Des wanted to talk about shaving again. His daddy made himself bleed sometimes. And then he’d stick these little bits of toilet paper to his face, and sometimes he left for work and he’d forget to take them off.
“Do you ever cut yourself?” the bloodthirsty kid asked avidly.
Niall smiled. “Yeah, I do when I’m not paying enough attention. I use an electric shaver, though, and they’re designed to keep from cutting skin. I have to be careful around this…” He fingered the mole on one side of his jaw. “Upper lips are tricky, too.”
Desmond stretched his mouth so that he looked like a chimpanzee. “Daddy used to do this.”
Niall laughed. “We all do.”
Rowan was smiling, but her gaze was cool when it glanced off his. He sensed she would once again cut off any attempt on Des’s part to coax Niall into letting him watch. Why? She let Niall take the kid to the school or the swimming pool.
Jarred, he wondered if she still would. Even running scared, he’d tried not to behave badly this past week, but knew he hadn’t entirely succeeded. Wa
s she reacting to that? Or only to this morning’s turmoil?
When the kids got restless, she informed them that she’d take them swimming at the community pool later, but right now they could play outside as long as they promised not to leave the backyard.
“Mo-om.” Desmond looked at her in astonishment. “We know that.”
“I’m too short to open the gate,” Anna informed them.
Rowan laughed. “So you are.” She wiped sticky fingers.
Niall got up and poured himself a second cup of coffee to give himself an excuse to linger. He could feel her gaze on him as he demonstrated how at home here he felt by opening the refrigerator, adding a splash of milk to his coffee, then sitting back down.
The door banged as the kids rushed out.
“Have another cup of coffee,” he suggested. “I’ll help you clean up afterward.”
Rowan hesitated, then did refill her mug and sit down, as well. There was an uncomfortable silence.
“I do appreciate…” she began.
At the same instant he said, “Rowan.”
“I can’t believe they did that,” she said then. “It’s even stranger than the threat to file for custody.”
“Yes, it is. I really could have arrested them for kidnapping. It was an unbelievably stupid thing to do.”
“Should I have let you?” Her eyes met his, her expression troubled.
“I don’t know. It depends on whether they really did intend only to take the kids for the weekend.”
She shivered. “They wouldn’t have gotten away with keeping them. Not unless they planned to go on the run, and I can’t imagine.”
Niall grunted agreement. “Did you get the feeling Glenn was the driving force?”
“I think he’s always the driving force. Donna is… I don’t know. I think she means well. She loves to cook, and mostly she was really nice to the kids. She’s hard to like, but I trusted her.” She cradled the mug in her hands as if they were chilled despite the fact that the day was already promising heat. “You know, it didn’t occur to me earlier, but they couldn’t possibly have come over this morning planning to grab the kids the way they did. I mean, what were the odds they’d have the chance?”
Niall nodded. “I thought about that, too. They probably intended to bully you, make it so awkward in front of Anna and Desmond that you’d agree to let them go for the weekend.”
“After that awful letter?” She took a gulp of coffee. “I don’t think so.”
“It was supposed to intimidate you,” he said gently. “Bring you back in line. ‘Give us what we want or else.’”
“You’re right,” she realized. “I’ll bet that’s exactly what they had in mind. Only it misfired, big-time.”
“They misfired this morning, too.”
“Boy, did they.” A good case of anger sparked on her face. “I saw Elizabeth Foster this week. She’s going to do a lot more than scare them. I’m going to cut off all visitation.”
“You’ll want to call her and tell her about the tussle this morning.”
“Tussle.” Rowan gave a broken laugh. “Thank goodness you were here.”
This morning, Niall had discovered something. He hated the idea of Rowan Staley or her children ever facing any kind of crisis without him there to provide backup.
Ever was a word that edged right into forever.
Forever wasn’t in his vocabulary.
I’m a man who won’t buy a house. Who is staggered by the idea of being an uncle. What if something happens to Duncan? God help us both, what if the kid ever really needs me?
So what the hell was he thinking here? Was he deluding himself to think he was capable of a real commitment to Rowan?
If he was…did he want to make it?
Familiar panic swirled with a far less familiar ache of need and something else. It felt somewhat like the protectiveness that was an intrinsic part of him, one of the qualities that made him a good cop. But this was different, too, because it was so intensely focused on this woman. Her kids, too, sure, but mostly her.
Man, he was in over his head.
“Quit thanking me,” he said gruffly.
“When you quit doing things that deserve thanks.”
“You’d have coped this morning. Worse come to worst, you could have called 9-1-1 and reported an abduction before they’d gotten a block away.”
She shuddered. “Do you have any idea how petrified I would’ve been if they’d actually taken the kids? I’d have been tearing down the middle of the street chasing them and screaming.”
“Did that bastard knock you down on purpose?”
Rowan looked wary, and he guessed his eyes had chilled. He couldn’t help it, not when he thought about anyone hurting her.
Like you’ve been doing?
“I don’t know. He hit me with his shoulder. Des was struggling, and Glenn was trying to keep me from being able to grab him. All he meant was to knock me aside, but he was so enraged I don’t think he cared whether I got injured.”
“I should have arrested him.”
“No.” She reached out and laid a hand over his. “You gave me the choice. I appreciate that. And maybe I was wrong to say no, but…they were good to me and the kids, in their own way. Maybe I am ungrateful....”
“No.”
“Yes.” She looked down and seemed to notice that she was touching him. She snatched her hand back, curling it out of sight under the table. “The thing is, I hated having to feel grateful all the time. Even the kids never felt at home with them. We were guests for a year. I’d ask if I could help with dinner and be assigned a small chore. Clean the bathroom only to be chided because I hadn’t put the toilet paper on the roll properly, or informed that, in the better households, dear, towels aren’t just slung over the racks, this is how they’re folded, and really shouldn’t Anna change clothes before we went out? People would wonder what kind of mother I was if they saw her wearing an outfit like that.” She took a breath. “It seemed like an eternity.”
He nodded, imagining it. Yeah, it would be hell, in its own way. Enid, he thought, you did a good thing. I wonder if you saw how desperate your granddaughter was.
Probably she had.
He braced himself. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
Her eyes flashed to his. “Have you,” she said flatly.
The anger he’d seen her struggling with wasn’t all aimed at her in-laws. He couldn’t blame her.
“The night with you was—” the best of my life “—amazing.”
She laughed, and it wasn’t a real warm sound. “I’ll bet. A woman scared to death of having sex, who then proceeds to tell you all about why she feels that way. I’ll bet that was your dream date.”
He was hammered by the realization that’s exactly what it had been. She’d given him everything, including her trust. He was drawn to her for countless reasons, starting with her air of innocence, the generous passion she offered him and only him, her sweetness and gritty determination, the way she was with her kids.... In that one night, he’d gone down for the count, if he hadn’t already long before that.
He discovered that he was sweating. His relaxed posture was a pose for her benefit. A fight or flight reflex had kicked in. I love her, he thought with incredulity.
How could that be?
Don’t do anything stupid. Be sure.
That was good advice. He set down his coffee cup and surreptitiously wiped his hand on his denim-clad thigh.
He’d made a few vows in his life, a couple of which were in danger right this minute of being broken. But the most serious was that he’d keep what promises he made. Which meant he rarely made them.
He realized he’d let the silence go on too long. She�
��d withdrawn, her expression closing and even her body retreating so that her back must be pressed hard to the chair.
“You underestimate yourself,” he said, voice hoarse. “You make me feel things I never have before.”
She scrutinized him from that still, quiet face. He felt as if he’d just crawled out from under a rock.
“And it’s taken you a week to tell me that? Niall, you’ve made it plain that you’re not interested in any kind of committed relationship. That’s okay. But the truth is, I’m not interested in any other kind. I let myself be tempted, and I’m not sorry. You…opened me to possibilities. I already said that. I didn’t think I could ever let anything start with a man, but now I know I can.”
He unclenched his teeth. “The hell you can.”
“Yes.” He heard pure steel. “I can. I’m telling you that I’m through with whatever it was we were playing at. I hope for the kids’ sake we can keep being friendly. That’s all it’s going to be.”
“I’ve been trying to say that I’m sorry. That…that I want to try.” Oh, yeah. That was guaranteed to sweep a woman away. He winced.
Pain flashed on her face, and she pushed back her chair and stood up. “Your apology is accepted. But no. Please keep your distance, Niall.”
He sat there stunned despite his guilt over how little he’d offered her. She’d said no. He had finally realized what he felt for her, and she told him to get lost.
He blundered to his feet. “Give me another chance.”
Her knuckles were white on the top rung of the chair. “I can’t. I can’t keep doing this. Don’t ask me to.” She swallowed. “Please go, Niall.”
He couldn’t remember hurting like this since… No. He didn’t want to think about that.
After a moment he dipped his head and went.
He wanted to crawl back into the hole that was his life. But he couldn’t yet, because the kids were waiting outside to pounce on him, and they deserved better of him.
He was careful not to let the screen door slam.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THAT NIGHT, NIALL CAME ABOUT as close as he ever did to getting drunk, then felt like crap Sunday. Hoping his churning belly would allow him to keep down the painkillers for his headache, he thought about what would have happened if Desmond had screamed last night.
From Father to Son Page 20
