It was no wonder that when Meredith made her way to where he finally slept on the sofa, it was already almost eight o’clock.
“Daddy, SpongeBob is on and I usually eat breakfast during Rugrats.”
He opened his eyes and blinked. “Already?”
She nodded. “I’m very, very hungry.”
Charlie sat up and rubbed his scratchy jaw. “All right. Give me a minute.”
His daughter moved up to lean against his knee. “Did the angel sleep in your bed?”
A vision of his robe tossed to the foot of the bed flashed in his mind, and he forgot to argue the angel tag. “Uh-huh.”
“And you sleep-ded out here in your sweatpants?”
“Sort of.”
“Can we have panacakes?”
“Sure.” He got up and made a trip to the bathroom, looked out the front windows at the falling snow still piling up, then started preparations for breakfast.
Coffee was brewing and he had mixed pancake batter from a box when Starla came out of the bedroom and approached the bar dividing the rooms. Meredith turned from where she sat perched on a stool and smiled at their visitor.
Starla had dressed in her jeans and his sweatshirt—he’d have to get rid of it after she was gone, or he’d forever picture her slim shoulders and the fullness of her breasts beneath the worn cotton. Her feet were bare and her hair was pulled into a loose knot with Meredith’s band. “Good morning.”
“’Morning,” Charlie and Meredith chorused.
Her aquamarine gaze dropped to his chest.
He hadn’t pulled on his T-shirt. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
She averted her attention and took the stool beside Meredith. “I did, but I woke with a headache.”
Immediately, he shook out a couple of capsules and placed them on the counter in front of her, then went to grab a T-shirt and pull it on.
Meredith had the refrigerator door open when he returned. She withdrew a colorful pouch and proceeded to strip away the slim straw and pierce the juice box with it. She set the drink before Starla. “You can have one of my Mickey Mouse coolers. It’s juice and it tastes like strawberry.”
“Why, thank you.” Starla picked up the capsules and swallowed them down with a sip through the straw. After tasting the offering, her gaze caught Charlie’s. The drinks were incredibly sweet and appealed to kids. He discreetly set a glass of orange juice within her reach.
The area around the stitched cut on her forehead was bruised, and even the skin beneath her eye looked tinged with purple.
At his perusal, she raised fingers to her temple self-consciously. “I look a fright, don’t I?”
In his opinion, she could still win the Miss Universe Pageant hands down. He poured batter on the hot griddle. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s tender.”
Charlie tended his pancakes and flipped them at the appropriate time. He stuck several slices of frozen bacon into the microwave and set plates on the counter. “Garreth—the doc—said it was a clean cut and he made tiny stitches. You shouldn’t have a scar.”
“Have you heard the weather report?”
For someone who looked the way she did, she seemed unconcerned about the possibility of scarring. Her attention stayed focused on getting her truck on the road. “I just got up a few minutes before you did.”
Starla watched him efficiently prepare the meal. He’d only been up a short while. That explained the bare chest she’d admired upon entering the kitchen. She smiled at his time-saving methods and no-frills breakfast. But thinking bare reminded her of last night’s bathing process and how he’d assisted her to the bathroom and even out of her jeans and later out of the tub.
So far she knew several things about Charlie McGraw: he loved his daughter desperately; he made a good living—this spacious log home was evidence of that—he was adequate in the kitchen; and he was a gentleman.
The night before she’d been too shaken to pay much attention to the way her rescuer looked; she’d been reliant on his strong arms and comforting tones. Today, with her wits about her, she couldn’t help noticing more—and appreciating what she noticed.
He was average height, not overly tall, his hands large and long-fingered, and he used them with a graceful ease she admired. His chest and shoulders were broad and layered with lean muscle, as were his arms. Charlie’s hair was a dark rich brown and quite obviously tended to wave when it was on the longish side, which it was now.
“You should probably have a Band-Aid over those stitches,” he said, moving to find one in a drawer and tear off the wrapper.
Starla sat still as he moved close and gently held her hair away from her forehead to apply the bandage. Her scalp tingled where he touched her. She could feel the warmth of his body and held her breath. She glanced up at him. He met her gaze.
A look passed between them, an inquisitive and silent hello. Her nerve endings were aware of his nearness. She breathed and inhaled the scent of shaving lather and soap and her breasts tingled. Her reaction caught her by surprise and heat spread up her neck and cheeks.
Charlie backed away slowly. He reached over to a small television on the counter and turned on the morning news, deliberately avoiding looking at her. After a few minutes the national news cut away to the weatherman in their neck of the woods.
Snowstorms were still prevailing in the Midwest, and portions of Nebraska and Iowa were under a winter-storm advisory for another twenty-four hours.
“I guess I won’t be leaving anytime soon,” she said.
“Not with your injuries. The doc said you weren’t to drive anyway.”
“It could be days before I can get a special rig out to tow my truck. You said it’s in a ditch?”
He nodded.
“I’d like to take a look at it, get my things and lock it up.”
“You sure you’re up to it? I can go get your things for you.”
She studied his face, noting his nice cheekbones and wide sensual mouth. “I’m up to it. I just have a headache. Maybe some fresh air will do me good.”
“I need my angel book, too,” Meredith said. “It’s in your truck.”
Charlie glanced at Meredith, who quickly said, “I am giving it to you for a week, Daddy.” She then explained to Starla, “I am grounded from my book.”
Starla replied simply, “I see.”
Charlie nodded, then lifted pancakes from the griddle onto plates. After placing a stack in front of Starla and pushing the butter and syrup toward her, he prepared Meredith’s and cut the pancakes into bite-size pieces.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, princess.” He leaned over his daughter and kissed the top of her head, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he straightened and poured more batter. The sight made Starla’s chest ache.
She couldn’t imagine the fright he’d suffered the night before, how terrified he must have been and the possibilities that had plagued his mind when he hadn’t known the whereabouts of his child. Even though Starla’s own father had encouraged her independence, he’d always been extremely protective. No wonder Charlie McGraw looked tired this morning.
“Will Miss Ecklebe worry about me, Daddy?” Meredith asked.
“No, there’s no kindergarten at all this week, remember? It’s Christmas break.”
Meredith nodded. “How many days is it gonna be till Christmas?”
Charlie glanced at the wall calendar near the phone. “Four.”
“That’s not much, is it?”
His lips flattened in a grim line. “No, it isn’t.”
“Do you still gots more work to do on your customers’ presents?”
“I have a rocker and a cabinet to finish,” he replied.
Meredith turned to Starla. “Maybe you can play Barbies with me while my daddy works. He gots to shut the door to the shop so dust and stuff doesn’t get in our house. If I go out there, I have to stay in one little spot.”
Starla glanced at Charlie.
“She has a designated play area for safety.” He carried his stack of pancakes to the counter and sat. “The restriction chafes the princess’s inquisitive nature. If I’m running a power tool, I can’t hear her questions.”
And Starla knew firsthand how numerous those were. “What is it you do, Charlie?”
“I’m a carpenter. Furniture and cabinets mostly. I arrange outside jobs around Meredith’s school schedule so she doesn’t have to spend too much time at day care.”
“I spent a lot of time with my father, too,” she said. “My mom died when I was young.”
“Her mama’s a angel, too, Daddy,” Meredith explained with childish wisdom. “Just like her.”
“I told you yesterday that I’m not an angel,” Starla disagreed.
“It’s okay.” Meredith popped a bite into her mouth and chewed before saying, “I won’t tell nobody.”
Starla looked at Charlie and he shrugged.
“After we play Barbies, we can watch Lilo and Stitch, okay?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s my video.”
“Meredith, Starla is our guest and needs her rest.”
Meredith noted he kindly didn’t mention the fact that she was stranded there because of Meredith’s prank.
“She’s not here to entertain you,” he finished.
“I don’t mind playing Barbies and watching a movie,” Starla said. “I don’t think I have much of anything else to do.” She turned to Meredith. “If I get tired, I’ll just tell you I need a nap, okay?”
“You can both nap this afternoon,” Charlie said.
Meredith rolled her eyes. “I’m five.”
Starla had eaten half of her breakfast, and while Meredith hadn’t been looking, she’d enjoyed the orange juice.
“You finished?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, thanks. The pancakes were light and airy, a nice golden brown.”
He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Thank you, Mrs. Butterworth,” he quipped, picking up the dishes.
Had she sounded like a commercial? She’d meant it as a compliment.
Meredith helped him place silverware and plates in the dishwasher. It was obvious they’d done the same chore together many times. Watching them in their well-equipped kitchen, Starla was reminded of all the years she’d wished for such a home. A stationary home filled with momentos and memories, a place where life felt safe and solid. She’d spent too many of her formative years on the road. Meredith was a fortunate child.
“Okay, ladies, bundle up and we’ll go face the elements. Starla, you didn’t have a coat on when I carried you in, so I’ll see what I can find.”
Minutes later she pulled on a brown leather jacket that had been worn soft. It was too large for her, but so was the sweatshirt she already wore and the gloves he found for her. Charlie tied a pink scarf over the lower half of Meredith’s face and around her hood, then tugged a stocking cap on Starla’s head, careful of her stitched forehead, following it with a heavy brown scarf around her neck. She was glad she’d worn her practical lined boots.
The three of them ventured out into the knee-high snow, holding hands and making slow progress. The flakes were coming down steadily, but the wind had died down and they could see clearly.
The drifts were too deep for Meredith, so Charlie picked her up and carried her on his shoulders. He moved ahead to break a path for Starla and she followed in his tracks.
“You okay?” Charlie turned and asked at the end of his long driveway.
Starla squinted into the snow-bright daylight. The cold air bit her lungs, and her nose was already numb. “I’m okay.”
The Silver Angel was buried over her wheel wells in a ditch. A thick white blanket layered the cab and windshield, but it and the trailer looked okay. Starla walked all the way around, brushing the hitches clear to check them.
Charlie knocked snow from the door and opened it. He lifted Meredith up first, then assisted Starla. Everything inside looked okay, though anything that hadn’t been fastened down was on the floor. Charlie handed her the keys. “Will you want to start it and makes sure it runs okay?”
She tucked the keys in her pocket. “The fuel is gelled by now. It’ll have to be towed out and warmed up before it’ll start.”
Grabbing two nylon bags in the sleeper, she stuffed clothing and personal items into them, including her purse, phone and the logs.
“I got my book,” Meredith said, clutching it to her chest.
“I’ll put it in my bag to keep it dry.” Starla tucked the book safely away. Charlie took the bags from her, then assisted her to the ground. He turned back to maneuver Meredith onto his shoulders and Starla locked the doors and stowed the keys in one of the bags.
They followed the path of their own footprints back. While the girls headed inside, Charlie shoveled a path to the stack of firewood beside the garage. After carrying in several loads of wood, he pulled off his coat and hat, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead.
Both Starla and Meredith had changed into dry clothing and left their boots and coats near the door. “Meredith directed me to the dryer in the mudroom, and I threw our jeans in. I can take yours, too…after you’ve changed.”
The memory of Charlie helping her out of her jeans the night before was one Starla wouldn’t soon forget, but she tried to put it into perspective. He capably took care of Meredith, preparing and cutting her food, bathing and dressing her, so helping her could be nothing more than an extension of that helpfulness.
Could be. How self-deluded was that thinking?
His expression had been a little tense during that scene, now that she thought about it. She wasn’t naive. Men and women quite naturally had sexual musings about each other, and that had been the perfect time for thoughts like that. For crying out loud, that episode was over and done, but she’d been thinking about Charlie since she’d seen him without his shirt a little while ago!
With everyone in dry clothing and a fire blazing in the enormous stone fireplace, Charlie explained where he’d be. “My shop’s right on the other side of the kitchen, there, through that door. If you need anything, just holler. If not, I’ll see you about noon for some lunch.”
Having collected her thoughts, Starla nodded.
Meredith bounded toward him for a kiss, which he bent to receive and return, and the next minute he was gone.
“I’ll get my Barbies,” Starla’s new playmate said cheerfully.
While Charlie worked in his shop, Starla had a chance to look around. The interior of the McGraw’s log home was an open floor plan in finished wood with high-beamed ceilings and a loft area above. Dark rugs in the living room and lushly upholstered leather furniture kept the look masculine, but added warmth and comfort.
The stone fireplace was set at an angle and above it a grainy antique mirror reflected the room. Father and daughter seemed to manage well together here, and to all appearances were happy and well adjusted.
Meredith missed her mother, however, and the fact was obvious from her conversation and the book she continuously talked about. She interrupted Barbie’s camping trip twice to tell Starla the story about the angel, and both times she went into great detail about the story.
“I get my book back in a week, and then I can show you the pictures,” she said.
Starla’s heart ached for the child. There were still times when Starla wished for her mother’s comfort and advice, and Meredith was just a small child.
Something about the little girl’s shiny dark hair, her wide inquisitive eyes and doubly inquisitive nature invited Starla to feel perfectly natural in taking her onto her lap and occasionally touching her hair. She’d never spent this much time with a child, never held one on her lap or been so amazed and amused by the comments and questions that flowed unceasingly.
“Did you know a camel can walk a million ways without water?” Meredith asked. The muted sounds of power tools and occasional hammering blended into the background.
“I knew they could store water.”
“Yeah, and they can get sand in their nose so they have to close their noses.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Just like on Crocodile Hunter. Remember the one about the man trying to get snakes who was pretending that he got hurt from a snake and he drawed a line on his arm?”
Starla was lost as to what one had to do with the other, but in Meredith’s mind, the two obviously had a connection. “I missed that one.”
“Maybe they can show it again.”
“Maybe.” Starla glanced out the window at the never-ceasing snow and experienced a niggle of concern. The McGraw’s home was pretty isolated, and the storm didn’t seem to be letting up.
The door on the far side of the kitchen opened and Charlie appeared, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled back over his forearms. He took it off and hung it on a hook, revealing his muscled form in a snug black T-shirt. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink. “Who’s hungry?”
Meredith quickly jumped down, scooped Barbie dolls and accessories into her arms and dumped them into the plastic storage container, missing quite a few in her hurried attempt to pick up. “I am!”
Charlie prepared them tuna sandwiches and heated canned soup, and they perched on bar stools at the counter.
“I don’t even know if I’ll be able to deliver these last two projects before Christmas,” he said as they ate. “I’ve been listening to the radio and there’s no telling how long it will be until the roads out here are cleared. Crews are working in town and on the highway, but the snow is coming down as fast as they can remove it.”
“You mean we might not have Christmas?” Meredith asked, her eyes filling with tears.
“Of course we’ll have Christmas, sweetie,” he said, laying down his sandwich and wiping his fingers before he moved over to hug her. “We didn’t get our shopping done, did we?”
“I was gonna buy a pretty sweater for my gramma and wrap it up and give it to her myself.”
Charlie got a strained look on his face and hugged her tighter. When his copper-brown eyes met Starla’s, she thought she saw guilt there.
Charlie's Angels Page 5
