“Trust me, I know.”
Yeah, right. “You’re white. What would you know about it?”
“Brent, stop trying to pick a fight. I don’t care what color your skin is or where your ancestors are from any more than I care about Finnley’s.”
“Oh, so you’re one of the few brought up in a bubble where it didn’t matter?”
She raised her eyebrows and dropped her hands to her hips. “My father was definitely racist. He did not accept—” She jerked her head toward the boy’s bedroom. “Obviously, my sister didn’t care who she slept with. There’s no chance this was a one-time incident. In fact, I think she picked guys that would send Dad ballistic all along. Lori is that kind of person.”
“So she was the rebel.”
“You could say that.” She glanced over to where Finnley stood in his bedroom doorway. “Come on, Brent. This is no time to argue about something so stupid. Let’s go sit down in the living room and let Finnley eat without us hovering over him.”
Now she wanted him to stay? Today was strange. All week had been strange. Surreal. But he followed her, no doubt just like the invisible Rover followed Finnley as he side-walked to the table, keeping an eye on him and Allison.
Allison settled in a rocking chair. “I can’t wait until I get into my own place so I can bring my own furniture from Portland.” She patted the arm. “I think this chair is on loan from Zach’s mother. I’m not sure where they came up with all of it.”
Brent crossed to stand by the window. Just when he was loosening his guard around her, she had to jab again? “I’m doing the best I can.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She shook her head. “My, someone’s touchy today.”
Yeah, he was. And why? All because her nephew looked different than he’d expected? Stupid. An inkling there was more to his discomfort than that niggled the back of his mind. It was Allison herself. She was the total opposite of any girl he’d ever noticed in his life. He’d been all over the flirty girls. Literally.
Just the thought deepened the flush on his cheeks.
Allison wasn’t like that. He’d bet she couldn’t flirt if she tried. She wouldn’t know how.
Refreshing. But his attraction — oh, man, was he admitting it to himself? — had nothing to do with that. He’d noticed her even before she’d gotten into nephew-custody mode. He’d been determined to bring a smile to her face.
Because she was a challenge? Because she was a client?
Didn’t matter why anymore. He’d seen something in her from the first day they met and, no matter how porcupine-prickly she was, he couldn’t shake his… okay, yes, attraction to her.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
He jerked and blinked the room back into focus. Allison back into focus. Her dark hair, pulled forward and flowing nearly to her waist, covered much of her light gray fitted hoodie. Her legs, clad in dark gray stretch pants, kept the old wooden rocker moving ever so slightly.
A clink came from the table, and Brent glanced over. Finnley cradled the bowl with his cast and made short work of his breakfast while keeping his watchful gaze firmly fixed on Brent and Allison.
Poor little man. He deserved a whole lot of stability and love. He deserved his aunt’s undivided attention for a long time, until he relaxed and settled in.
Besides, Brent wasn’t going to drag any God-fearing woman into the nightmare he’d created of his life. And he was done with the other kind of woman. Which meant he had no business dreaming about a relationship with Allison. It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to Finnley.
He met Allison’s gaze. “I need to get going.” This from the guy who’d stayed in Galena Landing for the weekend because nothing seemed more important than the woman and child in this room? “I, uh, drove out to take some measurements on the building.” Measurements he didn’t need for anything. He nodded toward Finnley. “I thought I’d check in on the little fellow while I was out here anyway.”
She didn’t look convinced.
Which wasn’t surprising, since he wasn’t, either.
Allison glanced at Finnley then back at him. “I’d love it if you stayed a bit longer, Brent. Have a seat? Maybe we can go for a walk after and show Finnley around the farm.”
Something in her eyes caught at his. Uncertainty? “You’ll want the people who live here for that, won’t you? People who will be part of his life.” The child needed stability. Brent couldn’t deliver that.
He almost missed her slight shrug. “Maybe. But you’re here, and I asked you. Unless you’re too busy.”
He should say he was. He should glance at his watch, claim to be late for a meeting, give her a glimpse of his to-do list. But it was a lie. He had nothing but free time today and all weekend, really.
Brent turned so Finnley couldn’t see him. “Is it wise to let him get attached to me, even a little?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Allison surged to her feet, leaving the chair rocking in her wake. She stepped close to him.
A floral essence filled his senses. He barely needed to look down at all to see directly into her dark brown eyes.
“Please?”
Somehow his hands cupped her shoulders, her warmth spreading from his hands through his body. Oh, man. He was a sucker for a lady in distress. Allison didn’t know how to deal with a little boy. Neither did he. She probably figured that, but thought there was safety in numbers.
Problem was, at this exact instant, he wanted to forget the vows he’d made to himself. He wanted to bend ever so slightly and kiss the lips mere inches from his.
What he really ought to do was walk out, get in his truck, and find something else to do today. Like go swimming in a lake barely melted from winter ice.
Still he stood there. Still he looked in her eyes as they widened slightly.
He caught his head tipping and managed to make contact with her forehead instead of her lips. He loosened his grip on her shoulders and dropped his hands. “I can stay for a little while.”
Mistake. But what else could he do?
* * *
His lips still seared her forehead as he backed up a step. Then another. His dark eyes begged hers for understanding.
Heat crept up Allison’s neck and across her face. She hadn’t meant to come on to him like that. She’d been asking for help with her nephew. That’s all she needed from Brent. Not kisses.
Right?
Right. It was all about Finnley. It was all about her learning to cope with a silent, hurting child. Brent was right. Finnley was nothing to him, just a kid who happened to share a racial gene pool. Finnley shouldn’t get attached to Brent.
She shouldn’t get attached to Brent.
She was tough. She knew what happened to women who trusted men. Every. Single. Time.
Noel’s face swam into her mind’s eye, and she pushed it away. Even Noel wouldn’t be exempt forever. He was male. That’s all it took.
She forced the words from her lips. “No, on second thought, it’s okay. Finnley, Rover, and I will be just fine.”
Brent ran a hand through his black hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I said I’d stick around, and I’m going to.” He angled his head toward Finnley. “For his sake.”
Allison glanced at her nephew. He sat in front of an empty bowl, eyes wide as he watched them. It was all about Finnley. It had to be. She took a few steps toward him. “Are you still hungry, buddy? I can get you a cookie or two. Remember the yummy ones Sierra left us yesterday?”
He looked down at his bowl and gave it a little nudge with his cast.
Right. The imaginary dog. “Rover, would Finnley like a cookie?”
The boy’s head nodded so slightly Allison might have imagined it, but she’d pretend it was real. Just like the dog. She crossed over to the cupboard and lifted out a plate and the tin. The cookies still smelled amazing. She set two on the plate and slid it in front of Finnley.
Her nephew glanced up at her. Something flicker
ed in his eyes before he looked down. He lifted a cookie and took a wee nibble.
Allison held out the tin to Brent. “Want one? Sierra went on a baking binge yesterday.”
He reached past her for two more plates and set them on the table. “Only if you are. Homemade?”
She took a deep breath. “Want a coffee?”
“Sure. Just black, please.”
A little grin poked at the corners of her mouth. “That’s good. I think that’s all they supplied me with for starters.” She poured two cups while he shifted two cookies to each plate and sat down across from Finnley.
Brent took a bite and his eyes widened. “These are awesome, aren’t they, squirt?”
Allison slid into the other chair and raised her eyebrows at Brent. “I bet Rover likes them just fine.”
Finnley sneaked a peek at each of them. He took another bite and nodded.
If that was progress, she’d take it.
“You know, when I was a little guy, I had an imaginary friend named Kefir.” Brent leaned back in his chair and popped the rest of his cookie in his mouth.
“Oh?” Allison resisted the impulse to look at her nephew. “What was Kefir like?”
“I made my mom set a place at the table for him. Once my sister tried to sit in that chair and I yelled at her. I didn’t want Kefir squished.”
Allison grinned. “I’m sure she was very understanding.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not so much.” Brent grabbed another cookie. “Kefir was braver than I was. He could ride a bike before I could. He could climb a tree. He led me into all kinds of scrapes.”
“Did your parents buy your excuses?”
“My mom. No dad in the picture. And no.”
Interesting. “I didn’t know your parents were divorced.” She shouldn’t have said that. What if his dad had died?
Brent’s words were clipped. “My father wandered through once in a while when he wanted something of my mother.”
Didn’t that sound just like a man? But maybe things like that were best not spoken of in front of Finnley. “Tell us more about Kefir.”
“He was a little boy, like me. Only he was white.” Brent glanced at her.
Allison felt the burn of his eyes. Had it mattered so much to him? Would it bother Finnley, too? She looked down at the cookie on her plate and broke it in half. Then again.
“He had blond hair and blue eyes and was always getting me in trouble. I don’t know what happened to him. I guess eventually I didn’t need him anymore and he stopped coming around.”
“I wonder how many little kids have imaginary playmates.” Or imaginary guard dogs.
Brent inhaled the rest of his cookie and glanced toward the tin.
Allison bumped it closer to him. Let him have a few. She certainly didn’t need them.
“I’ve always thought of Kefir as an angel sent by God, actually,” he said casually as he helped himself to another.
“An angel?” She blurted the words out before she could censure them.
“Why not?” Brent grinned. “God gives us imaginations, right? And when a child needs comfort or encouragement, why wouldn’t He nudge that imagination to think up a secret friend? Someone who is always there, someone who understands.” His gaze flicked to Finnley then back to her. “Maybe someone who protects.”
That made an incredible amount of sense, actually.
Was it a good sign that Finnley sat at the same table as her and Brent, calmly eating a cookie? She sent a silent prayer thanking God for Rover. Whatever the dog was.
Chapter 14
Noel, Claire, and the horses were long gone by the time Brent stepped back outside Allison’s doorway. Inside, she suggested to Rover that Finnley put on his jacket, saying it was colder outside here than in Arizona. How was she ever going to get through to the hurting child? That anyone could abuse a little one like had happened to Finnley made Brent’s gut churn.
Some people simply shouldn’t be parents. It was more than biology. More than sex. It was about nurturing life and putting someone else’s needs first. Obviously the little boy’s needs had come last, if at all.
A cat twined around Brent’s ankles, its rumbling purr filling the air.
He crouched down and rubbed its back. The cat put both front paws on his knee, revealing milk-filled teats.
This little thing was a mama? Where were her babies? Movement over by the stack of lumber at the school caught his eye. Several little fur-balls tumbled and played.
Brent lifted the cat and stepped back into the duplex. “Finnley, look.” Oh, right, the dog. “Rover, I want you to meet a cat. No chasing her, okay? She has babies.”
“Don’t bring it inside, Brent.”
Right. Miss Priss wouldn’t want a single cat hair to drop on her floor. He backed outside, holding the rumbling cat against his chest. She couldn’t weigh an ounce over four pounds.
Finnley, wearing an oversize hoodie, followed Brent, eyes fixed on the feline.
Brent lowered himself to the concrete stoop and set the cat further out on his knee, but she was having none of that nonsense. She wiggled closer, still purring like an incoming train.
“Want to touch her? She’s really soft.”
Finnley reached out and patted the cat’s back. He pulled his hand away quickly and glanced at Brent.
“It’s okay, squirt. She likes to have her head rubbed. Like this.” He demonstrated. “Here, want to sit down and hold her?”
The little guy sat at the other end of the concrete pad.
Brent set the cat on Finnley’s lap, and the boy’s fingers tangled in her long fur. The cat bumped her head under Finnley’s chin, and he pushed her away.
Something that minor wasn’t going to slow down this attention-starved feline. She shifted around Finnley’s hand and pressed against him again.
“It’s okay. She really likes you, I think. Can you see over there?” Brent shifted closer to Finnley and pointed. “There are her babies. Want to go closer and see them?”
The boy nodded slightly, pushing the cat away again as he stood.
Brent rose, too, only then becoming aware of Allison in the doorway behind him. She leaned against the doorjamb, watching. She gave him a nod and a little smile when their eyes caught. Thanks, she mouthed.
Finnley sidled toward the playing kittens.
Brent held out his hand. “Come on. Does the cat have a name?”
She tucked her hands inside her sweater pockets. “Jane Eyre, I think. After the classic. I knew she’d had babies but hadn’t seen them playing before this.” She ambled beside him.
Had he really expected her to take his hand? Of course not. Up ahead, Finnley had stopped several feet away from the roughhousing kittens. The mama, Jane Eyre, was still more interested in the boy’s ankles than in her offspring.
“Wonder if I can catch one,” he murmured as he and Allison came abreast of the child.
Allison settled on the ground and the fickle Jane Eyre homed in on her, setting her paws on Allison’s knee.
Finnley’s gaze twitched between the cat, Brent, and the kittens. Allison must have realized how important the moment was. She allowed the cat to climb on her lap. Her nephew edged closer to her.
Brent couldn’t help the grin. Didn’t look like Allison was comfortable, but she’d do nearly anything to soften the relationship with her nephew. He glanced over to the lumber pile only to see three kittens scampering toward their mama.
Allison set Jane Eyre in front of her. The cat flopped onto her side and the three babies nuzzled into her belly.
So much for catching kittens. Brent dropped to the ground beside Allison, bracing himself on an arm that just so happened to brush her shoulder.
“See, Finnley? See what a good mommy cat she is? She’s letting her babies drink milk from her. She’s taking care of them.”
Brent scratched Jane Eyre’s head, and the rumbling purr returned. She stayed put for the kittens, though. “Good mama.”
Do
mino appeared as though from nowhere. He jumped around the scenario with little sharp barks, daring Jane Eyre to run so he could chase her. The cat opened lazy eyes but did not twitch. Even the kittens ignored him.
Finnley sidled closer to Allison, gaze fixed on the dog.
Right, she’d said the boy was terrified of the Border collie. Brent snapped his fingers. “Domino, come.”
The dog danced to his side.
Brent pushed his rump to the ground. “Sit. Stay.”
Allison pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped a message.
He raised his eyebrows at her.
“Asking Jo to call him in. I know the dog was on the farm first, but…” She shrugged. “We need a little time.”
Brent jerked his chin toward Finnley. “I think we’re doing okay. Domino is no more traumatizing than Jane Eyre.” Really. Who named a cat something that stupid?
“You didn’t hear him last night.”
“But this is a new day. See?”
A whistle sounded from up the hill. Domino’s ears perked up then he took off running.
The boy watched the dog disappear before turning his attention back to the kittens. Apparently a snack was all they’d needed. They now took to wrestling with each other again, rolling around on the ground. One little orange and white kitten bumped up against Finnley’s foot.
Finnley crouched down and held out a hand.
The kitten smacked it then darted away. A second later it was back, dancing around the boy’s hand and jabbing it with ninja paws.
Brent peered at Finnley. Was that really the ghost of a smile on the little boy’s face? He leaned closer to Allison, his shoulder brushing hers. “See that?” he breathed.
She nodded so slightly he felt it more than saw it.
Finnley settled on the ground and the kitten jumped in his lap, attacking the dangling string from his hood. The boy sat very still, his hand moving slowly until he touched the kitten’s fur.
The kitten leaped backward, twisting to land on its feet, then bounced back to attack Finnley’s fingers.
Dandelions for Dinner (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 4) Page 10
