He was quiet again. For the life of her, she couldn’t read his expression. What was he thinking?
“Could you start tomorrow?”
Her ears were ringing. And she wondered if she’d heard him right. “Well yes, that’d be fine. But I can’t move us that quickly. I have a whole house to pack up.”
“How about coming for the day until we can work out the rest of the details? Then you can get comfortable with Trevor, and he with you, until you're able to move here.”
“All right, tomorrow I’ll come with Katy. Is about eight-thirty okay?”
“Sounds good.”
This was too easy. Brad slapped his hands on his knees, stood, and, magically, he appeared even taller; like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He hovered over her. Emily glanced at her purse and gave an extra tug on the zipper to make sure it was closed before slipping it over her shoulder. She held tight as she stood before this sizeable man.
“I have a good feeling about this Emily. There’s something about you. I think this arrangement will work for both of us. I love my boy and only want the best for him.”
He escorted her to the door. “Tomorrow then, Brad. And thank you for the job.”
She bumped his hand when she awkwardly turned to shake it. Lord, she truly was a klutz today. She cursed her lack of self-esteem, which, at times, kept her from being fit for polite society. And making it worse; he grabbed her by the shoulders, before she could knock something over, and guided her through the door. Her face heated, again bright red. She tried to duck her head but as she stood outside the door, she was forced to face him when he held open the white screen door—which she was sure was from the 1930’s.
He looked over her head, obviously sensing her discomfort, shoved his hand in his pocket and leaned his other arm on top of the screen door. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows showing off his tanned, well-sculpted forearms. Before she could turn away, he pulled his hand from his pocket and extended it.
She placed her hand in his and he squeezed, not too tight, but a nice, friendly handshake to seal the deal. “Drive safely, Emily. Let me know when you can make arrangements on your end to move, I’ll send my men to help.”
“Wow, thank you.” She was sweating again, and then remembered the woman who’d answered the phone when she’d called. Better to ask now so she didn’t worry and wonder all night because she didn’t ask. “What about Trevor’s mother, was that who answered the phone?” A dark shadow cast over and hardened his good-looking face to one harboring something dark filled with nothing pleasant. There’s a problem. His cheek twitched.
“No. That was Mary Haske, my neighbor who helps me out.” A sharp bite filled his tone, nothing nice and friendly now. “You’ll meet her. She’s an old family friend I’ve known since I was a kid. Trevor’s mother doesn’t live here or see Trevor.”
The way the man held back his fury, she sensed she’d just peeled away a well crusted-over scab; put there by a woman who’d broken his heart and done something this man hated her for. Don’t piss him off. Yeah, she heard the warning. She knew some people didn’t forgive; they held onto the hate, letting it become a monkey on their back.
Emily swallowed hard, and then backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Four
Her hands wrapped around the steering wheel, driving alone became a mini-vacation; one she’d too-rarely had the opportunity to enjoy. It gave her time to think, evaluate her life, dream big, and put plans in place. That’s just what she did now; after the unusual interview. “I’ll give notice to the landlord, pack after Katy’s in bed, and could, maybe, be ready by the weekend. Yeah, this will be easy.” In some ways, this change would be a relief.
Gina must have been glued to the window when Emily pulled into the driveway. Before Emily could turn off the ignition, she’d ripped open the front door and bounced outside with Katy perched on her hip.
Her little blonde princess clapped and squealed with glee, holding her arms out for her mama. The rusted hinges on the van door squeaked when Emily gave it a shove, just as Katy landed in her arms. Emily inhaled her baby soft scent and held her tight, kissing her over and over on her plump round cheeks. “I’ve got the job, baby girl, and we start tomorrow.”
“Yeah! Oh, I knew you could do it.” Gina punched her lean arms in the air before pulling Emily and Katy into a hug. “It’s freezing out here, come on. So, tell me everything, details, details. Who’re you working for?” Gina clapped her hands to hurry Emily inside.
Emily left her coat and shoes on as she carried Katy into the darkened living room, where her worn out brilliant green couch had seen better days. She dropped into her Scottish plaid glider rocker and let out a sigh; a contented sound, like every burden inside was gone. She put Katy down on the ugly beige carpet, where she toddled off to pick up her dolly with blue ink stains streaked across its plastic face. Emily watched as Katy plopped the doll into the doll-sized stroller parked by the fireplace, and began to push her around the living room. “We need to move to his ranch.”
“Move? Why?” Gina perched across from Emily on the edge of the dark green sofa.
“The job’s full-time care of his young son. He’s a single father and runs the ranch alone. He needs someone there to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s what I already do; except, now, I’ll be getting paid for it.” Emily couldn’t suppress a slight grin.
“Does he have a house on his property for you to live in?” Gina flattened both her hands across her knees.
“We’ll be moving into his house. It’s large, and there’s enough room.” There was a slight hitch in Emily’s voice. And Gina, being Gina, never missed anything, and could make anyone, trying to keep the slightest detail from her, squirm. Gina narrowed her dark brown eyes, and stiffened her spine as she leaned forward.
“Call it a gift from my mother side, but, honey, I’m one Irish-Italian girl you can’t pull anything over on. There’s a whole schwack of problems with that arrangement, and I know you’re holding something back from me. So, you may as well spill it—all of it.”
Emily looked up at the low dingy stucco ceiling and rocked the squeaky chair. She answered without meeting the narrowed eyes that burned another layer off of Emily’s protective shell. “He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met, and arrogant and unforgiving, and I humiliated myself like the bumbling, socially inept, idiot that I am. And Trevor, that’s his little boy, doesn't have his mother around. I don’t know what happened to her, but it’s evidently a sore point with him. One he’s not willing to discuss, and one he doesn’t hold too highly in his regard… Which, I suspect, is where he puts all women.”
“Oh, I see.” Gina rose to her feet when the kettle whistled from the kitchen. She walked around the bargain basement square coffee table and paused. “Emily, darling, you’d better make sure you go into this with both eyes open. I see that dreamy look you’re trying your damnedest to hide from me. Don’t forget, you’ve just kicked out a good-for-nothing dog. You’re vulnerable; guys, predators who’re up to no good, read that, and will take advantage. Make sure this stays business. Because, right now, you’re on the rebound, and I know you’re dreaming about meeting a real man, but you need time to heal first. So you’d best hide that googly-eyed drool, and forget that you think he’s the finest-looking man you’ve ever seen, so he doesn’t go and take advantage of you.”
Emily felt the downy hair on the back of her neck rise like thorny barbed wire. How could Gina say something like that to her? So what if it was true? She couldn’t shake the irritation caused by Gina’s blunt implication that she was so much of a ditz that she’d check her brains, and fall at this guy’s feet. Emily had good sense and sound judgment. How dare she?
“Oh, knock off the wounded pride thing.” Gina hadn’t moved; though the kettle still shrilled in the kitchen. So Emily gripped the arm of the rocker and started to get up.
“Sit down, Em. As your friend, I have the right to poi
nt out some potentially dangerous pitfalls. Friends watch each other’s back, especially when we’ve checked our heads in the nearest closet. This, hot-to-trot, arrogant guy’s your boss. You make sure you protect yourself. He sounds volatile, and men like that can be real jerks. You’ll be living in his house. Different rules apply. A mutual respect, for one. Katy will be there; make sure it stays comfortable for her.”
Gina leaned down and kissed Emily on the forehead, and then raced into the kitchen to silence the piercing kettle. Emily closed her eyes and rocked. When Emily opened her eyes; her bright blue-eyed angel watched her, as if she understood every word, and knew what sudden change was about to happen.
Emily reached out her overworked hand with short, square nails and torn cuticles—a hand she knew would never be featured on any ivory dish soap commercial. They were dry, plain and serviceable. But her darling Katy didn’t care. They were filled with love, and that’s all Katy wanted as she gripped Emily’s fingers and climbed onto her mother’s lap.
Gina called out from the kitchen. “So how soon do we move you?”
Emily couldn’t keep the lightness from invading her voice. She lovingly smiled down at her daughter, who rested her pinkish cheek against Emily’s full breast; her eyelids lowered, becoming too much of an effort to keep open, while she sucked her pacifier. “As soon as I can pack. Brad wants us there, like, yesterday.”
Gina reappeared through the archway that divided the kitchen, from the small living and dining room. She leaned against the cheap looking white wall beside the fireplace as she frowned. She crossed her arms as a sharp twinkling of light sparked in her eyes, and then rubbed her chin with her index finger and thumb, back and forth, a telltale sign that Gina was formulating plans.
“I’m taking Katy to work with me tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll make some calls, get people here to help pack. But that’s after you go to work tomorrow, and if all’s well, and this turns out to be the blessing you so deserve, you can give notice to your landlord tomorrow night. Not before.”
She was good, and Emily knew if there ever was a crisis, Gina was the one you wanted in your corner, handling things. A former secretary, producer, and the driving force behind her husband’s successful glass shop, you were wise to hand her the keys and let her handle things. These mundane details could overwhelm Emily; whereas, Gina could step in, dissect, and arrange a sound viable plan, with color-coded categories highlighted on the notes she was sure to produce. Yeah, she could hardly wait.
* * * *
The next morning, before Bob left, Emily dropped the little bomb that she’d obtained a job and would be moving. His glowing response, which was not unexpected, was his cheeks flushing a burning crimson color, and his mouth falling open from obvious shock. Oops, guess she’d read that right. He’d expected her to land flat on her face, but to hell with him and his expectation for her to come crawling back. Hell would freeze over before she’d ever consider it. No, she was almost free. And to prove it, Gina arrived, right before Emily left for her first day of work at the ranch, with three pages of directions that were color-coded by priority. What Emily needed to do, along with numbers and contact names, which included the lawyer to handle her legal separation, the gas and electric company, notice to the post office for change of address and one page of sensible questions to ask Brad; which Emily should have thought of, but, in her fog of excitement, hadn’t.
Wow! She scanned the checklist, hugged Gina and then hurried with Katy to the van, in awe of the organizational skills of this woman.
And even though Gina had offered, once again, to keep Katy with her this morning; Emily knew how imperative today was. Today with Katy would be to test the waters, sink or swim, as the old saying goes, and find out just how smoothly, she hoped—no believed, it would go. “It’ll work out.” It had to, since she was uprooting Katy to a home that wasn’t hers. Children needed stability, so as Emily drove through the familiar gates of Echo Springs, past the split rail fence framing each side of the long winding, well-treed entrance, where the dirt and gravel road looked freshly graded; Emily felt a sudden spiral rise from the pit of her stomach and up through her chest, as if she’d been drop-kicked into her future, without having any chance to analyze or question her sanity, and back out.
And it was a good thing too, since Brad was waiting outside his lovely Victorian in the bare front yard. All that pure, masculine power; six feet two inches of ruggedness. How could a man wearing a worn tan barn jacket exude all those damn fine, good-looking vibes? “Oh shit.” Without Katy to keep her distracted from those magnificent, see-right-into-your-soul whiskey-colored, eyes she’d probably trip over both her feet.
Emily parked her van and focused on taking the keys out and zipping up her purse. When she looked up through the window, Brad lifted a little boy bundled in a dark blue hoodie up onto his shoulders. He swaggered toward Emily in a way that said he owned, and was proud of, this land. Emily opened her door and tried to contain the shake in her hand. She slammed her door and hurried around to the passenger side to slide the side door open.
“You made it.” She could smell his earthy fragrance, no sandalwood, as she craned her neck up. His smile was intoxicating, and today he was much more relaxed—nicer. Maybe, if he’d be a jerk again, she could relax.
“We did.” Okay, how stupid was that. Emily turned away before her face grew any redder, and focused on unbuckling Katy from her booster, and lifted her.
“So, who’s this?” His voice was teasing, light and riddled with tenderness. He was a different man from yesterday, and he didn’t ignore Katy; just the opposite, he reached over and tickled her chin. Hooray, another completed checkmark on Gina’s detailed laundry list—the list to reorganize Emily’s life.
“This is my daughter, Katy. Katy, this is Brad, the man I told you about.” She giggled and clammed up that sweet pert little mouth, in a too-shy ploy she always launched upon meeting anyone new. Emily was positive this was just the beginning of the ploys she’d play on many a man to wrap him around her finger. “Sorry, she’s shy, but wait until she warms up to you, then she won’t stop talking.”
He laughed with such genuine warmth, for an instant Emily wondered if he was the same difficult man she’d met yesterday. Trevor bounced on Brad’s shoulders reciting a “Blib, blib...” until Brad put him down. He wandered to the wide rock path that led up to the front steps.
“Is this Trevor?”
“Yes, that’s my boy.” Brad shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched over his son.
“Hi Trevor, I’m Emily…” The little boy never turned toward her, he had no interest in her or Katy.
“How old is Trevor?” The hardness was back in Brad’s face. He didn’t look at her.
“Three.” He cleared his throat roughly.
Trevor stopped in the middle of the rock path and dropped to his knees. He started digging with his tiny little fingers around a rock. “No, Trevor.” Brad lunged and swooped Trevor up.
“No, no, no.” Trevor screamed over and over, flailing at Brad. His tiny-fisted hands smacked Brad on the nose.
“Stop it, Trevor. Emily’s here, remember I told you she’s going to look after you.” But he didn’t stop his screeching. In fact, he changed the words to a, “whee, whee, whee” thing as Brad held his hand. “He must be tired, all this newness, with you here is throwing him off.” Brad shouted over his stiffened shoulder.
His anxiety was back, but of course, what an awkward moment. Was the kid always like this?
“Come inside Emily, I’ll get Trevor some crackers, and then you can get started.”
Katy remained quiet and still in Emily’s arms, as they both watched Trevor at a safe distance. Emily shifted Katy in her arms, and followed a tense and ill at ease Brad into the house.
What a difference the house was today. The neat and tidy living room with upscale leather furniture and hardwood flooring that would showcase in any home and garden magazine was a complete mess today.
Emily stepped over plastic toys, puzzle boxes and pieces scattered from one end of the room to the far wall by the kitchen. There were wool blankets and two afghans hanging over the sofa and scattered on the floor—a rough night or morning, or something. The kitchen wasn’t much better. Brad yanked open the lovely white cupboard door, the one with the tempered glass center, and grabbed a box of cheese crackers with a cartoon character on the bright red box. Katy tightened her hold around Emily’s neck, as the kid screeched louder.
But Emily couldn’t get past the dirty dishes, cereal boxes, and discarded food packaging filling the sink and covering every bit of counter space. And the odor, what was that smell?
She turned in a circle and had to lift her foot off the sticky floor. Even though it appeared this kitchen had been recently remodeled with upscale appliances, cupboards and maybe a really nice teal green slate countertop, she wouldn’t swear to it, considering the state it was in.
His eyes were on her, watching her, as a frown deepened those tired lines around his eyes. She sensed him pulling back, the way men do when they think you’re judging them, which she wasn’t, or maybe he half expected her to turn and run out the door. “Well, I better get started; if anyone’s planning on having lunch, it’s going to take me a good hour or two, with the kids to look after, to clean this mess up.”
Brad flushed. “Look, I’m sorry about this...” He gestured with a hand that held the boxed crackers. “If this is too much for you to do and look after both kids…” He didn’t finish the sentence as gravel spewed from the sound of a heavy truck pulling in followed by a short blast of a horn. Emily faced the narrow hallway that led out of the kitchen, and to a back door. What sounded like a large man stomped up, what she presumed were, the back steps, the hinges squealed on the screen door right before the inside door, with the curtained tiny glass window, was pushed opened. “Hey Brad, Dudley’s here with the feed for the cattle, we need you out here.” The big man hovering in the doorway, who must have been six feet tall, was wearing a plaid wool shirt with an orange baseball cap. It looked like it had been several days since he’d last shaved.
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 17
