Kelton's Rules (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Nicholson, Peggy

  Hours ago, when he’d circled the foundation, that rectangle had been securely nailed. Now it stood in place, but at a slight slant.

  The boy must have pried it off—taken a hammer from the shed to do so. Then propped it back up to cover the doorway.

  Heart pounding with hope, Jack lifted the sheet aside. Scanned the gloom. Small windows high up in the foundation walls let in faint rays of early light. If Sky lurked within, the boy could surely see him silhouetted in the doorway. “Sky?”

  No answer, but had that been a stirring, over there along the east wall, on top of that stack of two-by-sixes? He eased into the space, trying not to think about rattlesnakes, which might find this a cozy den. Skyler?

  Another movement in the dark, there below the window, and somebody sighed.

  Thank you, God!

  His eyes were growing accustomed to the available light. Sky sat with knees drawn up, slumped back against the concrete wall. Jack settled beside him. “Hey.”

  Poor little devil, the temperature had dropped steeply overnight. The chill and damp down here must have crept to his bones. Jack longed to place an arm around him and to pull him close.

  Too soon. Go slow. Easy does it. He leaned against the cold wall, their shoulders not quite touching, hoping his body would radiate some heat. He fished in his jacket and found a sports bar, one he’d brought from his cache in the Jeep. “Long time since supper.” Which you didn’t get. He balanced the bar on Sky’s knee.

  It rested there for one minute. Two. A stomach snarled in the dark, and Jack smiled. Waited some more.

  Sky ripped it open. Ate with slow dignity.

  As proud as his mother. Oh, Sky, let me do this right.

  But before he could find the words, the kid blurted, “I saw you kissing her.”

  Jack winced at the tone of accusation. Raw betrayal. I was supposed to be your friend, then I did that to you? “Ah. Thought you might have.” He sighed; how to soften it? Or do I just plunge straight through? “Yeah…I hope to be kissing your mom a lot, from now on.”

  “But she and my dad—” Sky stopped, made a small inarticulate sound of frustration and misery.

  Jack dropped an arm around his shoulders—felt him stiffen, start to jerk away…then give up. A long, despairing sigh blew out into the darkness. “Yeah,” Jack said simply, and pulled him back against his side. They’re divorced. It’s finally starting to sink in, isn’t it? “Must hurt something awful.”

  Sky nodded fiercely and Jack tightened his arm, broadcasting heat, solidarity. A caring, masculine presence. Oh, Sky, how to do this… “Your mom’s pretty special, you know?”

  A nod, silky hair brushing his chin.

  “Everybody deserves to be special to somebody. Needs to be special. And kissing, that’s one way a man tells a woman he finds her very, very special. So I was telling her that.”

  “But my dad—” He stopped again, defeated.

  “Used to kiss her,” Jack agreed. “And think she was special. But, Sky, looks like your dad changed his mind. Or lost his way for a little while, got to thinking maybe somebody else was more special?”

  “Stupid ol’ Chelsea!” Sky growled, leaning into his warmth.

  Takes two to tango, kiddo.

  “She’s having her babies. She wanted Dad to be there, is why he didn’t— Couldn’t— She’s always spoiling things!”

  “She’s having them, you mean now? Or yesterday?” So that was why Lake hadn’t shown, not a despicable reason at all, Jack realized as Sky nodded. Though if he’d kept his pants zipped in the first place, he’d never have had to choose. “I see. So by now, maybe you have some brothers or sisters?”

  Sky shook his head, emphatically disclaiming any such.

  Jack smiled to himself. Waited.

  “But when they’re older, Dad said once they’re housebroken and Chelsea can handle them, maybe someday he’d…”

  Come back? Many a jerk longed to have his cake and eat it, too— Jack had seen plenty of that kind of thinking in his profession. But surely Lake hadn’t promised him that? Tried to weasel past his son’s pain by pretending it was only temporary? Revocable? “He said he’d come back to your mom?” To you?

  “Well…sort of. Yeah. He didn’t exactly say it, but I know.” Sky looked up at him defiantly. “So-you-shouldn’t-be-kissing-my-mom.”

  Hmm. Jack rubbed his chin, grimaced at the sound of bristles. Whatever had originally been said or not said, clearly Sky’s wish had been repeated so often, like a spell to banish the bad times, bring back the good, that it had achieved the weight of truth.

  How to shake it? “Tell you what. Why don’t we ask your dad what he thinks? And see how ol’ Chelsea’s doing?”

  OUTSIDE, the day had dawned bright and clear. They scrambled up onto the decking and Jack paced, hands in his pockets, while Sky punched in his father’s number. Maybe this was the worst possible idea. Maybe he should grab back the phone. Maybe Lake was still at the hospital and he wouldn’t—

  “Dad?” Sky’s face lit up.

  Jack sauntered over. It was his life on the line here, too. Cocking his head, he could hear Lake’s tiny, booming, jubilant voice, one of those Right Stuff kind of pilot’s drawls.

  “Three of ’em?” Sky’s mouth fell open.

  And had anyone ever told him what the word “triplets” actually meant, Jack wondered, smiling in spite of himself.

  “Yeah, and beauties every one! Your sisters are doing great, Sky-boy. And Chelsea, too. They had to do a cesarean, but she came through like a champ. And everybody’s got ten fingers, ten toes and a pair of lungs like you wouldn’t believe. So I’ll be sending you three cigars, buddy—that’s three—to help me celebrate.” The happy, relieved voice rambled on and on, recounting the event’s perils and victories, while Sky listened, blinking behind his thick lenses, gulping and nodding automatically.

  Gradually, Lake wound down; he would’ve had a long night, too. And at last he thought to ask, “How about you, buddy? You find something interestin’ to do after I couldn’t make it?”

  Sky nodded again, as if his father stood in front of him. “I saw Mom and Jack kissing.”

  There came a long silence, then Lake said, “Jack? Who’s—”

  Jack lifted his brows in command and held out his hand. Sky plunked the phone into his palm. “Jack Kelton here.” He turned his back and strolled off a few long strides and lowered his voice. “The man who’s going to marry Abby and take care of your son as best he can, whenever you’re not there to do it.”

  “Hey…well, this is pretty damn sudden!”

  “Not as sudden as your family, sport. March to July, that’s goin’ some. But it’s no less sincere. And since it sounds like you may be needing some help in the college tuition department and since I’m not going anywhere, let’s see if we can get along, shall we? Now…” He drew in a breath and forged on. “Sky seems to have gotten a notion somewhere that this divorce isn’t permanent. That someday you’re coming back. You want to tell him where you really stand on that?” He turned, handed the phone back to Sky and stalked off to wait at the far end of the house, fists clenched.

  Another man who’d held Abby. He’d just as soon have punched him as talked to him, and doubtless Lake felt the same. Still…I could’ve been more tactful. But it had been a long, cold night with too many things that mattered hanging in the balance.

  The balance hadn’t tipped yet. Tell him. Come on, tell him.

  Behind him, he could hear Sky’s soft mumbled responses, coming at longer and longer intervals. Finally…silence.

  Jack glanced over his shoulder, then turned. Sky sat cross-legged, phone clutched in both hands, head down, slowly rocking.

  Kat he could have pulled into his lap and cuddled, but not a boy of ten. Jack settled stiffly beside him. Sat looking down at his own hands, wishing he had a knife to whittle with or something—anything. Scrounging in his pocket, he found a stub of a pencil. Pulled it out and turned it end over end over end.
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  “Dad…said he wished what happened…hadn’t happened, but now he’s stuck. That he couldn’t come back for years and years. And that wouldn’t be fair to Mom. That she’s too special. She shouldn’t have to wait. Oughta have somebody to take care of her now.” Sky rubbed his knuckles across his nose.

  Thank God. And thank you, Lake. “Your dad’s right. She’s very special. And even better, she comes with a bonus.”

  “Whazzat?” Tears dripped onto the plywood and Sky wiped an arm across his face.

  “You.” He waited for that to sink in. “I never realized till you came along how much I needed a son.”

  “Arrrr.” Sky sat very still, looking down.

  “I know you’ve got a perfectly good dad already. But what I’m hoping is, one of these days, maybe you’ll find you could also use a…whatever you want to call it. Friend? Part-time consultant in the guy department?”

  Sky shot him a look that wasn’t entirely discouraging, then looked down again. Shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “I suppose if that doesn’t work for you, you could always go back to New Jersey, help your dad with the diapering. Three of ’em, whew! That’s going to be a truckload of stinky diapers for the next few years. And all those bottles to warm? And pushing a triple-wide stroller everywhere they go.” Think about it, pardner.

  “On the other hand, I’d be grateful for some help out here. I’m going to have to expand the house, and now’s the time to do it, while it’s still warm enough to pour foundations.”

  “Expand it?” Sky looked up, looked around critically at all the fine work they’d done. “Why?”

  “Well, whether you decide to live here with us or just choose to visit, you’re going to want your own bedroom. And your mom will need some sort of studio.” Jack tapped the pencil’s eraser on the plywood a few times, then sketched some quick lines. “I was thinking if we bumped it out…here. The studio would go back of the garage… Then your room above that? Good view of the mountains up there.”

  Sky blew out a long shaky breath, then gazed all around, taking his time. “Or…you could take another jog out to the west.”

  Heads almost touching, they sketched in that idea, revised, scratched out, tried again, shaping it better and better.

  “And then there’s the matter of a cat door,” Jack reminded him. “Shouldn’t be on the north side—drafts. Maybe over here in the mudroom?”

  ONCE JACK HAD PHONED HER, Abby came home on wings—eighty miles an hour down the highways with the sheriff at the wheel. Still, it had taken them almost an hour. Time enough for her to cry for sheer joy and relief—mightily embarrassing her companion—then to fall fast asleep, lulled by the hum of the speeding tires.

  She woke when he pulled into her driveway. Hastily she brushed her tousled hair behind her ears, gathered up her purse and sweater. “Thank you so much! I don’t know how to—”

  “Entirely my pleasure, ma’am.” Sheriff Noonan touched his hat brim and the car pulled away.

  Leaving her standing in front of her cottage. Looking up at Jack, who sat on her steps, slouched against a porch post. He gave her a tentative smile. Its watchful wariness pierced through her numbness. She swallowed around the lump rising in her throat. Yesterday he’d trusted her entirely. She’d held his heart in her hands. But now…

  All the things I said to him last night. Or should have said! Tears welled again. But what could she do if Sky wouldn’t accept him? Doesn’t matter how much I love you if Sky can’t be happy. “Where is he?”

  “Upstairs asleep.”

  She had to see for herself.

  She stood for a long time in her son’s doorway, drinking in the sight of a pale toss of hair on the pillow, one pink ear, infinitely precious. His face was out of sight, buried in the flank of his purring cat. Yes, it was really Sky, really home and safe. She could start to believe it now. Sighing, Abby came back down the stairs, holding hard to the banister.

  Jack hadn’t budged. She sank down beside him. “Has he eaten?”

  “Two sports bars and a Mo’s egg sandwich on the way home.”

  “Oh, Jack!” His arm came around her and she turned into his shoulder, curling into his hard, solid warmth, shivering with emotion. “Oh, if he’d…”

  “But he didn’t. He’s safe. He’s fine now.”

  “Yes, but…” She lifted her face to tell him that, much as she wanted it to, maybe this wasn’t going to work. Not if Sky couldn’t be happy.

  Jack claimed her mouth—thoroughly, ruthlessly. At length.

  “Oh,” she said when she could breathe again. She rested her forehead against his throat. At peace. How could she move from here? Ever? When this was where she belonged?

  “Maybe now’s the time to tell you,” Jack said, brushing his face through her hair. “The three men in your life have consulted and we seem to have reached an agreement.”

  Three! She lifted her head again to meet his eyes. “You spoke with Steven?”

  “Mmm. And much more importantly, with Sky.” Jack smoothed his knuckles across her parted lips. “I have his permission to court you.”

  “You…” Hours after daybreak, but only now was the sun rising inside her. Or maybe this was her heart rising up, turning from shades of break-heart blue to rosy red…gold the color of laughter…hope bright as new spring leaves… “You do?”

  “Yup.” He nodded, and the wariness and worry were gone. This was Jack at his smuggest. Jack with triumph dancing in his gray eyes, inviting her to dance with him.

  But she was a woman who’d sworn she’d stand on her own two feet, even while she was falling head over heels. “How nice that you three agreed, but do I get any say in this?”

  “Oh, absolutely.” Jack’s voice was husky with laughter as he traced her lips with his finger. “As long as you say yes.”

  “Don’t you ever, ever quit?” she demanded as he gathered her in to kiss her eyes, her cheeks, her arms as they wrapped around his neck. Then he returned to her smile.

  “Well…of course I do. After I’ve won. That’s Kelton’s Rule Number Four.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-3632-5

  KELTON’S RULES

  Copyright © 2003 by Peggy Nicholson.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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