by Nan Dixon
He hugged her legs and ran to the living room.
“Issy, you can go, too,” Nathan said.
After the kids left, he ran his hand through his hair. “She talked to Josh.”
“Sounds like it.” Cheryl wiped the table.
“She doesn’t trust me, but she trusts him.” Nathan shook his head. “I want to know what she said.”
“I’ll ask.” Her heart ached for him. “Give her time. Josh is a kid, like her. Not scary.”
“But I’m her dad.”
“And you’ve known her for five weeks.”
“This...sucks.” At least he was cleaning up his language.
She pointed to the computer. “You were going to check for Isabella’s mother’s arrest records.”
“Right. Right.” He pulled his laptop off the counter and sat.
Cheryl updated her grocery list.
“Shoot. The county only lists the arrests in the past twenty-four hours. Holy cow, what’s wrong with all these people?”
She leaned over his shoulder. “Is there another way to find her?”
“I’ll try a few more searches.”
Cheryl watched him type. He entered Heather’s name three times before he spelled it right. “Do you want me to type for you?”
“I’m good.” He shook his head, not looking at her. “I’m typing too fast.”
He wasn’t, but she didn’t argue. If he wouldn’t seek help, there was nothing she could do.
He clicked out a few more searches, using different combinations of her name.
“There. I found her.” Excitement laced his voice. “People blog about arrests? Sick.”
They read through. He frowned. “This was two years ago.”
“Maybe you can call the county?”
“Yeah.” He typed away. “Can I have a piece of paper?”
She ripped one off her pad and he wrote the phone number down. She was close enough to see he’d transposed the numbers. “It’s seven-six-three”
“What?”
“You reversed the numbers.” She pointed to the paper. “It’s seven-six-three.”
His jawbone jutted out. “Right.”
He said the numbers as he wrote. “Seven, six, three.”
But he wrote 6-7-3. Twisted.
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re dyslexic.”
His face tightened and he stared at her, as if trying to read her mind. His Adam’s apple moved up and down. He nodded.
“May I?”
He handed her the paper and she made the correction.
“It’s why you had trouble with the measuring tape.” Clues started to fit together. “Do you want me to enter the number in your phone?”
“Sure. Whatever.” He unlocked the phone and shoved it at her. “I’m stupid. I get it.”
“You’re not stupid.” She should have guessed earlier. “My best friend in high school was dyslexic. I helped her study.”
“You pitied her.” His movements jerked as he packed his computer.
“Of course not. She had to find a different way to learn.” Cheryl set a hand on his shoulder. “I read textbooks to her. That helped.”
And she’d been able to stay away from home. From Mama.
The rasp of his computer bag zipper filled the silence. He set his fists on the table. “Too bad I didn’t have you as a friend in high school. I might have done better.”
“You had a brother.”
He snorted. “We weren’t close.”
“Daniel didn’t help you?” Wasn’t that what family was for? To help you through the tough stuff? “Your family’s nice.”
“Well, I was a challenge.”
“I can’t imagine how tough life was for you.” Her heart broke for him. “But you’ve adapted.”
He snorted again. He set the bag and his phone on the table. “I’ll get Issy and get out of your hair.”
She couldn’t let him go like this. He was beating himself up. “Hey.”
He slid the chair he’d been sitting on back into place, refusing to look her in the eye.
Shifting, she blocked his path to the living room. “Nathan.”
“Can you move?” he snapped.
She did. Right into him. Pressing herself against his chest. “Is this good?”
His arms hung at his sides. He didn’t move for a moment. Then he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “I...I hate my brain.”
Her arms pulled him close enough to feel his heat through their clothing. “Don’t.”
“I’m so...so...effed up. I’m one big flaw. Stupid.”
“Language,” she murmured into his hair. Hair that smelled of his woodsy shampoo. She inhaled and the scent ignited her body.
He pulled back and cupped her face. “I don’t like people knowing. I don’t want their sympathy.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you.” But she did. Because he wasn’t stupid and someone had made him feel that way. “I’m angry at all the people who didn’t help you conquer your disability.”
His eyebrows arched over brown eyes glittering with gold flecks. “Thank you.”
They stared, drowning in each other’s gaze.
His mouth closed and settled on hers. Their tongues danced a sensuous, slow tango. She clutched at his shoulders, needing to get closer.
His hands cupped her butt and he slipped a leg between her thighs. Unashamed, she rubbed against him, her breath coming in little pants.
Nathan’s hand slipped under her top and smoothed a path to her breast.
Touch me.
He chuckled. “Oh, yeah.”
His hands molded and massaged, and her nipples sprang to life. A moan filled the kitchen.
“Shush,” he whispered and kissed her again.
Then there was nothing but the press of his body to hers, his lips and tongue and his marvelous hands. She wanted more, so much more.
“Leave my mom alone!”
Footsteps hammered behind her. She pulled away from Nathan.
Josh launched himself at Nathan. His fists pounded on his thigh, back and knees as Nathan stumbled away.
Cheryl tried to grab Josh, but he kept punching. “Joshua Bradley, stop now!”
A wail erupted in the living room.
“Let go of my mom, butthead.” A flying fist accompanied each word. Nathan pinned Josh’s arms to his sides.
“Let go!” Josh kicked and wiggled.
“Stop it. Stop!” Cheryl tried to pry Josh out of Nathan’s arms and got a fist to the side of her head.
“No more!” Nathan roared. Everyone in the kitchen stopped, but Isabella screamed louder.
“Done?” Nathan squeezed Josh’s arms.
Cheryl pulled on her son’s shoulders. Her hands shook so hard, she could barely hold him.
“Don’t hit,” Nathan warned.
Josh glared.
Nathan ran to the living room. “Issy.”
“What were you doing?” Cheryl held Josh on her lap.
“Saving you from the butthead like I did uncle Levi.” Tears and fury filled her son’s eyes.
She gasped, pulling him into a tight hug. “I was fine.”
“He was hurting you.” Tears dripped off his eyelashes. “I saved you.”
“Mr. Nathan didn’t hurt me. He kissed me.”
“Uncle Levi tried to kiss you and you screamed.” His little face scrunched up. “He’s a butthead. I hate him.”
“Don’t say that.” Her heart pounded.
Isabella’s screams had quieted. Nathan carried her into the kitchen. “Everything okay in here?”
“Get out!” Josh yelled.
“Joshua!” Cher
yl’s breath hitched. “Go to your room. We’ll talk about this later.”
Josh stomped away. Cheryl sagged into the chair. Nathan crouched next to her, Issy clinging to his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
No. Her son had just attacked Nathan. “I’ll be fine. Take care of Issy.”
She set her hand on the girl’s back, but Isabella flinched.
How had everything imploded?
Nathan brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll come over after she’s asleep,” he whispered.
“I need to calm Josh down.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow.”
Nodding, he closed his eyes. His knees popped as he stood. “Get some sleep.”
How could she sleep? She trudged down the hall, pausing at Josh’s door. A rhythmic thump came from his room. She knocked and walked in.
Josh sat on the bottom bunk, heels bouncing against the bed frame. Tears streaked his face.
Sitting next to him, Cheryl took his small hand. “Why did you attack Mr. Nathan?”
“He can’t touch you.” His chin shot out. “I had to protect you.”
Protect her? She’d been so weak, her six-year-old son had become her guardian. Josh believed he needed to save her, and that was wrong. That was her responsibility.
“I hate him.” The bitterness in her little boy’s voice made her squeeze his hand.
“But he’s kind to you.”
Josh shook his head. “He can’t touch you.”
“Honey, he’s very nice.”
But nothing she said changed her son’s mind. Josh hated Nathan.
CHAPTER NINE
“LET’S GO SEE Cheryl and Josh,” Nathan said.
Issy yawned, holding up her arms. He hefted her up. He couldn’t force her to walk. He was too dadgum tired. The catastrophe with Josh had triggered two nightmares.
At Cheryl’s door he stopped. What would he find behind door number one?
His stomach churned. He’d finally found someone who didn’t think he was dumb and her kid hated him. He had bruises on his shins to prove it.
Pop would have swatted his bottom if he’d done that when he was a kid.
He doubted Cheryl would punish her son. She let everyone walk over her. Maybe even him.
“Go ahead and knock,” he encouraged Issy.
It was a quiet knock, but they heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Cheryl opened the door and smiled at Issy. “How are you, sweetheart?”
Issy didn’t say anything.
Cheryl held out her arms for Issy. “I’ve got her.” She wasn’t letting him in the door. Wasn’t even looking at him.
“Cheryl.”
“I’ll get the kids fed and to day care.” She set Issy on her feet. “Go hop in your seat. Your cereal’s poured.”
She started to close the door but he stuck his foot out.
“It was a long night,” he said. “Because of Josh, she had two nightmares.”
Cheryl’s head rested on the doorjamb. “It wasn’t his fault.”
He leaned in. “Why didn’t you return my call?”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
The churning in his stomach turned into a full-blown storm. “Say we’ll have dinner tonight. Say we’ll talk.”
She swallowed. “That isn’t smart.”
Was that a crack about his dyslexia? “I’d say it was the right thing to do.”
She shook her head. “We can’t see each other like that anymore.”
“Are you kidding me?” His voice grew louder. Sleep deprivation played havoc with his self-control. “You’re letting a six-year-old dictate who you see? Who you sleep with?”
She jerked back. “I never said anything about sleeping with you.”
“Don’t run, Cheryl.” The plea ripped out of him. “Don’t let a six-year-old control your life.”
“He is my life.” Cheryl’s lip trembled.
She let the door close. It banged on his work boot.
He slid his foot out of the way and pulled the door shut. The hell with this.
* * *
GIVING NATHAN UP was the right thing to do. Cheryl opened the vanilla extract for the heavy cream she was whipping. There’d been too much turmoil in Josh’s life already.
You’re letting a six-year-old dictate who you see? Nathan’s words rang in her head.
He didn’t understand what being a parent meant. He’d only had Issy for a few weeks. He hadn’t nursed her through a fever or told her that her father was dead. Cheryl rubbed at an ache in her chest. Or carried her nine months and loved her every single minute.
Not upsetting Josh was important. He was her life. But she ached at the idea of never kissing Nathan again.
“Are you adding the vanilla or waving it over the bowl and hoping it picks up the flavor?” Abby joked.
“Sorry.” She poured in a teaspoon and restarted the mixer.
Nathan couldn’t interfere with her work. She had a goal. That meant concentrating on getting a job in Abby’s restaurant.
“How’s class?” Abby asked.
The question forced her to pay attention to what she was doing. Abby peppered her with questions.
“Your skills are improving each week.” Abby folded her recipe book. “The bride finalized her wedding reception menu for the Fourth of July.”
“What did she decide on?” Cheryl had prepped some of the tasting menu for Abby.
“Red, white and blue food. Strawberries and blueberries on the wedding cake.”
“I like your design.” Cheryl checked the peaks on the whipped cream and pulled the bowl out from under the beaters.
“It’s time you made your first solo wedding cake.” Abby pulled ingredients out of the coolers.
“Me?” Cheryl’s voice squeaked. “I’ve only ever assisted.”
“You’ve got a good feel for cake making and decorating.” Abby touched her shoulder. “You’re ready. This is a small reception, perfect for your first cake.”
“You mean, if I screw up you’ll have time to swoop in and fix it.” Cheryl couldn’t hold back her grin.
“That’s not what I was thinking.” Abby chuckled. “I started with small cakes, which gave me the confidence to move on to bigger ones.”
“I can’t wait.” This was a huge step. She’d worked on all the components—cake, fondant, flowers and decorations—but she’d never been responsible for the whole thing. “Thank you for believing I have the skill.”
“You’ve earned this.” Abby pointed a finger at her. “Don’t mess it up.”
Cheryl laughed. She wanted to tell Josh and Nathan about getting the opportunity.
Nathan. The good news didn’t feel quite so good anymore. He wouldn’t want to talk to her again.
Pushing the thought aside, she left the kitchen and peeked inside the business center. Empty. It would only take a minute to check her quiz score. She hadn’t had a chance to check in because of last night’s chaos.
After logging into her student account, she checked on the grade: A-. She’d have to go over her notes to see what she’d missed. She exited the website and, since she hadn’t checked her email for a while, did that.
“Lord, why do I get all these ads?” She deleted ad after ad. She didn’t have the money for their offers. No one did.
At the top of her inbox was an email address she didn’t recognize. The message was sent a couple of days ago. She clicked.
Cheryl,
I need money.
Money? Then she saw the name.
Levi Henshaw.
The last time she’d seen Levi was in the courtroom after sentencing. He’d gotten thirty-six months for extorting her survivor checks. It had been embarrassing to take the stand and tell th
e judge how weak she’d been. How she’d let Levi force her to sign over her checks. Gray and Abby had stayed with her throughout the trial.
She straightened her shoulders. She’d vowed to be stronger. Hitting Reply, she typed. NO.
* * *
DANIEL’S RINGTONE BLARED out of Nathan’s phone. “What?” he snapped. All he wanted was to work alone. He had enough on his plate.
“Whatever bug crawled up your ass, don’t take it out on me,” Daniel growled.
“Bad night.” Bad morning, too. But he and his brother weren’t into sharing. “Issy has nightmares.”
“Sorry.” There was a squeal of a saw on Daniel’s end, along with the sound of hammering.
Nathan inhaled, trying to lose his bad mood. It didn’t work. Cheryl had screwed that. Wouldn’t even stand up to her bratty six-year-old. For all her motherhood experience, she wasn’t doing the kid any favors.
“Did you need something?” Nathan asked.
“I’m waiting on the engineer over at Abercorn and he’s late. Can you cover the Chatham inspection?”
“What time?” He glanced at the electrician laying the copper wire for the heated floor. Jed could handle pouring the polymer once the electrician was finished.
“Thirty minutes.”
Thirty minutes? He’d barely get there. Nathan hung up, had a word with Jed and hustled to his truck. He glanced over at the Fitzgerald House kitchen. Couldn’t stop himself. Cheryl and Abby worked together at one of the counters.
His fingers clenched into fists. Was their attraction so easy for Cheryl to forget? Or did she just not want to deal with someone who wasn’t normal?
He’d admitted he had dyslexia to a woman. And she’d dumped him at the first opportunity.
Lesson learned.
He headed to the Chatham spec home. A car waited on the dirt driveway. Damn, he hoped it was one of the crew. He parked and moved to the door.
The man sitting in the car hopped out. “About time someone showed up.”
Nathan sighed. Inspector, then.
“My brother asked me to meet you. He’s tied up.” Nathan liked the image of his brother tied up. Then he could torture him for not calling sooner. “Sorry.”
“I had problems with one of your properties last year.” The inspector pointed a finger at Nathan. “I hope this isn’t going to be the same situation.”
