Bree slowed and held out a hand to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I guess I’m just frustrated about this whole thing.”
“That makes two of us,” he grumbled.
“I know. I said I was sorry.” The hint of a smile lifted one corner of her mouth.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking.” The smile grew. “I’ve finally found something you and I have in common. We’re both in a really bad mood today.”
Chapter Twelve
Mitch didn’t talk any more than necessary as they struggled home via a roundabout course. His thoughts, however, were loud and clear. It didn’t matter how attracted he was to Bree if she refused to give herself permission to consider him, or his family, as anything other than a nuisance.
There had been a few times since they’d met when he’d imagined an equal interest on her part, but she’d always managed to counter his enthusiasm with a big dose of reality. Lots of people survived an unhappy childhood to go on and lead a normal life, yet she was apparently determined to cling to the past. The question was, why?
Why, indeed. Beneath Bree’s capable, self-confident facade he’d sensed the heart of a lonely, lost little girl. It was as if she was afraid to let anyone know she cared. Or was afraid to let herself become emotionally involved in the first place. The way she was acting right now, chances of his ever finding out which were slim and none.
They crested the final hill to arrive at the broad, sweeping lawn surrounding her house. Grass along the outer edges had grown noticeably after the heavy rain. Bree picked her way carefully past the tallest clumps.
Mitch had been carrying Bud most of the way home. He set the boy on his feet next to Ryan to wait for Barney while he reassured Bree. “You’re probably safe from ticks this close to the house. Whoever mows the lawn has kept it short. That discourages bugs.”
“Oh, goody. I’m so glad to hear my gardener is doing it right.” She was out of breath and once again sounded curt.
The perplexing conversation he’d been carrying on within himself had left him irritable. His primary urge was to grab her, hold her tight, and kiss her senseless in spite of her off-putting attitude. Taking that course of action was probably the worst thing he could do, especially in front of the boys.
Then again, Mitch wasn’t feeling very smart or very rational. He was physically weary and emotionally on edge. Only one thing seemed certain. Soon, the road would be opened and he’d have no excuse to be near Bree. If she refused to see him socially, as he suspected she would, he’d never get the chance to show her how right they could be for each other.
Looking at his impulse in that light gave it more credence. He hurried to catch up with her before she reached the rear door.
“Wait!”
Startled by the urgency in his voice, she hesitated and looked back. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I forgot to give you something.”
Before she could ask what, he’d reached out, pulled her into his arms and kissed her with such intensity that she felt weightless, senseless—wonderful!
Conscious thought fled, replaced instantly by intuitive response. Brianne closed her eyes, clung to him and returned his kisses with all the pent-up fervor she’d tried so hard to hide from everyone, including herself.
This isn’t love, she kept insisting. It’s just a normal physical reaction to being kissed so passionately.
The only problem with that premise was that she was positive she wouldn’t feel the same way if any other man were delivering those gentle yet demanding kisses.
Head spinning, Brianne fought to resist the insistence of her heart that Mitch Fowler was special. It was no use. She’d lost the fight before it began. There was only one thing to do—surrender, melt into his arms and return his kiss with all her heart and soul.
She’d almost forgotten they weren’t alone when Ryan’s high-pitched voice intruded on her bliss. He squealed, “Eeew. Gross!”
That was jarring enough to cause Bree to break off their mutual kiss. She turned her head, pressed her palms to Mitch’s chest and tried to push him away. To her surprise he held her tight. The restriction only intensified her desire for freedom.
“Mitch, no.” There was muted alarm in her tone. “We can’t let this go any further. Remember the children.”
He frowned, stared into her eyes. “Further? I wasn’t trying to seduce you, Brianne. I wouldn’t treat you that way even if the kids weren’t here. I care for you. Why can’t you see that?”
She didn’t know how to respond. Possible seduction hadn’t been a conscious part of her thoughts until he’d mentioned it. Now that he had, however, the disturbing notion refused to go away. Had he been telling her he cared merely as a prelude to a physical relationship? Maybe. That was the way her manipulative father had always approached her mother after one of their terrible arguments.
The comparison made her shiver. A few seconds ago she’d been every bit as vulnerable as her mother used to be. Doubt surfaced. “Why me?”
By this time, Mitch was at the end of his tolerance. He’d given it his best shot when he’d kissed her. If she couldn’t accept or understand the feelings he had for her, there was no use beating her over the head with them.
“Because I’m nuts,” he said dryly.
Brianne realized immediately that she had destroyed what had remained of their romantic mood. Somehow, her pride carried on, substituting tongue-in-cheek humor for the ache in her heart. “I could have told you that.”
“I’m sure you could have.” Mitch not only stepped back, he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to her and shot her a look of annoyance. “Well, I suppose we might as well go in the house.”
“I suppose so.”
Exasperated, he looked at his eldest son. “You. Take off everything that’s muddy and leave it outside on the porch. Then march straight to the bathroom and get into the shower.”
“Bud, too?”
“Bud, too. And Barney,” Mitch said flatly. “You’re all taking a bath. You might as well do it together.”
The boy pouted. Looking from his father to Brianne and back, he muttered to himself.
“One more word out of you and you’ll spend the rest of your life locked up with that dog,” Mitch threatened. He realized immediately how petulant and childish the warning sounded, but at the moment he didn’t care one whit.
“I wish we’d never come here,” Ryan countered, glaring at Brianne.
Mitch didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Me, too.”
Well, Brianne noted, the Fowlers were beginning to sound more and more like a normal family. Not that that was a positive change. The look in Ryan’s eyes had made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. His animosity couldn’t have been clearer if he’d been shouting curses at her through a mega-phone.
Bree was curled up on the sofa in the den, reading and absently scratching a red spot on her ankle, when Mitch found her later. She’d donned shorts and a sleeveless shirt so her clothing wouldn’t irritate the bites she’d gotten on their hike.
One eyebrow rose as he noticed what she was doing. “Don’t scratch that. You’ll make it worse.”
“Considering how badly I itch, I suppose I owe you a big thanks for knocking most of the bugs off,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
He was looking at his feet instead of at her. Bree thought he seemed unduly nervous. “Did you want to talk to me?”
“Yes. About what happened this afternoon—I’m sorry. I know I was wrong.”
Wrong to kiss me? Or wrong to get so mad at Ryan when he interrupted us? she wondered. “I’m glad you came and found me. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Ryan.”
“What’s he done this time?”
“Nothing. It’s just that he still seems awfully angry with me. Is it normal for kids to hold a grudge like that?”
“I don’t know. I remember feeling unsettled at his age, but that
was because my parents kept telling me I’d ruined their lives. In spite of Liz’s poor choices I know she loved the boys. And so do I.”
“Have you told them?”
“Sure,” Mitch said.
“In so many words?”
“Words can be overrated.”
“I suppose they can. So, what’s the deal with Bud’s teddy bear? Do you think it’s some kind of security symbol for him and Ryan? Like a tangible form of reassurance?”
Mitch combed his fingers through his hair. “Beats me. If I didn’t think taking that toy away would cause more trouble than it’s worth, I’d get rid of it in a heartbeat. I’m just worried that Bud would fall apart if I did. I guess I’ll have to wait till he outgrows his fixation.”
“Oh, sure. I can picture him going off to college with that old bear hidden in his suitcase,” she said, smiling. “Especially if Ryan has anything to do with it. Do you think it would help if you came right out and asked Ryan why he’s so miffed at me?”
“Does it matter?” Hopeful, Mitch paused, studying her expression.
Brianne shrugged. “A few days ago I would have told you it didn’t. That’s changed. I can’t explain why, it just has.”
“Could it be that you like my kids?”
“Of course I like them. Sort of. They can’t help it that they’re young and totally confusing to me, any more than I can help feeling lost when I try to relate to them. For kids, I suppose they’re not half bad.”
Mitch’s smile spread into a grin. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. So, will you have a talk with Ryan for me, after all?”
“Sure. Do you want to listen in?”
“No! That’s the last thing he needs. He’s already sure I’m the enemy. If you make it look like you’ve sided with me, you’ll destroy any progress you may have made toward winning his trust. At least I think you will, assuming there’s any logic to kids’ thoughts.”
“We can hope.” Mitch reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. “What about the rest? You know.”
“I do?”
“Yes.”
She could swear he was blushing, which meant he was probably referring to their kiss. And what a kiss it had been!
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bree said.
“Liar.”
“There you go again, besmirching my character.”
“At least I’m consistent,” Mitch countered.
“About some things.”
Mitch started to leave, then paused again. “Oh, I meant to tell you. Dinner was great.”
“Thanks.” She laughed softly. “If I’d managed to ruin hot dogs and canned baked beans I’d never have lived it down. Oh, well, at least the kids liked it.”
“And nothing exploded,” Mitch quipped. “I would have complimented you at the time, but the boys were making so much noise all I wanted to do was get them fed and out of the kitchen.”
“No kidding! I can see why people with children put picnic tables in their yards. They can’t stand the constant mayhem inside the house.”
“We should be gone in a couple more days,” he said. “Think you can keep your sanity that long?”
“I’ll try.”
In the back of Bree’s mind was the certainty that the Fowler children weren’t half the threat to her well-balanced life—or to her sanity—that their father was.
She picked up her book again but found concentration difficult, so she laid it aside and turned her thoughts to her unfinished manuscript.
Silently critiquing her characters, she realized she’d have to go back and make some changes, thanks to the time she’d spent around Mitch. Although he was far too human to be considered a role model for a hero, he had awakened her to a part of her subliminal self that had been a surprise. Obviously, she’d had a warped view of the way men’s minds worked. Then again, there was no guarantee she understood Mitch’s motivations any better than she did those of her fictional heroes!
The urge to go turn on her computer was great. She wandered to her office and decided to chance it. There hadn’t been any noticeable power fluctuations for a long time, and she backed up everything she wrote on floppy disks anyway. If, heaven forbid, her computer did get toasted by an errant jolt of electricity, it wouldn’t destroy her work to date.
Bree was seated at her desk, absently staring at the monitor and waiting for the necessary programs to load, when Mitch interrupted. “May we come in?” Ryan was with him.
“Of course. I just sat down. I’m not working yet.”
“Good. Ryan has something to say to you.”
The boy scuffed his bare toes against the carpet and made a face as he stared at the floor. It wasn’t until Mitch nudged him that he looked up and spoke. “I…I’m sorry, Miss Bailey.”
Bree smiled and pushed back her swivel chair. “Apology accepted. How about some cookies?”
“No, thank you,” Ryan said soberly. “I’m not allowed to have any more.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“’Cause I busted your dishes.”
Looking from the boy to his father, she arched an eyebrow.
Mitch was shaking his head. “There’s a lot more to it than that. I’ve been trying to explain the difference between being truly sorry and only pretending to be in order to get rewards. I think my rationale got lost in the translation when I mentioned eating your cookies in the same breath with holding a grudge.”
“Probably,” she said with a light laugh. “All this talk about cookies has made me hungry, though. Suppose we go see how many are left in the jar and divvy them up evenly. That way, you and I can eat a few now, and the boys will be sure we’ve saved some for them. Then they’ll have something to look forward to when you’re ready to let them have another treat.”
To Bree’s surprise, Ryan didn’t argue. He looked at his father and didn’t say a word.
“You can go,” Mitch told him. “It’s almost your bedtime, anyway. Carry Barney out the back door and let him go potty, then put him in the bathroom. When you’ve done that, maybe you and Bud can have one cookie and a little glass of milk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Impressed, Brianne stood with Mitch and watched the eight-year-old walk slowly down the hall, his bare feet padding on the dark tile. “I think you’re making progress,” she said softly.
“It does seem like it.” In a show of frustration, Mitch raked his fingers through his hair. “Trouble is, I won’t know for sure if I’ve done things right until he’s grown up, and then it’ll be too late.”
“He’ll be fine. They both will be.”
“I’m not as worried about Bud,” Mitch said. “He’s a different kind of kid.”
“He’s also younger, more impressionable,” she reminded him. “Surely that makes a difference, too.”
“I suppose so. What they both need is a decent mother—someone like you.”
Bree held up both hands as if fending off a literal advance. “Whoa. Stop right there. You said it all when you said a decent mother. Their first one wasn’t exactly mother of the year. Don’t make the same mistake again.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I decided a long time ago that I was never going to subject any child to the kind of upbringing I had. Period. Relationships are too tenuous, too apt to fall apart. Putting kids into the mix only makes things worse.”
“Or better,” Mitch countered.
“Don’t count on it. People tend to repeat the same mistakes they were raised with, whether they mean to or not. That’s a statistical fact. I don’t intend to saddle myself with such a serious responsibility.”
“You don’t believe in the healing power of love? How can you write the kind of books you do if you don’t buy into the illusion?”
“Illusion is the right word,” Bree said. “Just because I can create a believable fantasy on paper doesn’t mean I think I can do it in real life.”
Mitch took a step closer, then stopped when he saw her tense up
. “I think you could,” he said quietly, “if you weren’t afraid to try.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bree would have left him standing there and retreated into her office behind closed doors if she hadn’t been afraid that doing so would affirm his erroneous opinion. Instead, she put on a pleasant expression and led the way to the kitchen.
Bustling around, she set the cookie jar on the table and reached for the can of coffee. “Shall I make us a cup?”
“Only if you have decaf,” Mitch said wearily. “I haven’t been sleeping well. More caffeine won’t help.”
“Okay. Decaf it is.” She went to work measuring as she continued their conversation. “You’ll sleep better when you get your own roof over your head again. I wish I’d been able to find you a permanent place before your stupid dog ate my phone.”
He sank into a chair at the table, his shoulders slumping, his elbows propped in front of him, fingers laced together. “If you’d bothered to ask me in the first place, I’d have told you I had a place in town. As a matter of fact, I remember trying to tell you at least once.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Roughly?”
“I think it may have been about the time you’d run down the battery in your cell phone. You were so overwrought you wouldn’t listen to a thing I said.”
“Well, you could have kept trying,” Bree said, annoyed. “I’ve been worrying myself sick about where you were going to live. Why the sob story about the cabin if you weren’t homeless? Were you getting even with me?”
“Of course not.” Mitch heaved a noisy sigh. “Do you always think the worst about everybody or do you save that attitude exclusively for me?”
“I’m an equal-opportunity cynic,” she said. “Even Ryan had me fooled.”
“About what?”
“The big house. He said you sold it to get the money to look for him and Bud, and that was why you all had to go live in the old cabin.”
“That’s more of his scrambled logic,” Mitch countered. “I did have an expensive house. And I did sell it. True, most of the money went into the long-term search for Liz and the kids, but I’m not destitute. I never said I was. Matter of fact, I distinctly remember telling you that I built houses for a living.”
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