I nodded and held up a hand in a reconciling gesture. "I'm getting that," I said quietly, pleased at his defense of this little girl. In my line of work, I saw so few guys take responsibility for their own children that it was heartwarming to see this man so defensive of a niece.
"Sorry about the high drama moment," he said, settling back with an embarrassed look. "Robin and I have only ever had each other. I've always been the one to take care of her."
"So you've been enabling a sibling, as well," I said, with a knowing lift of my eyebrows.
James threw me a puzzled glance, then one corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. "I've only been enabling one, you've been working on three, and a father."
"I qualify for a group rate." I shrugged. "Robin's lucky to have you looking out for her." The winsome note slipped unexpectedly into my voice. For a moment I was jealous of Robin.
"In their own convoluted way your brothers look out for you, too."
I heard the crash of some plates and Neil's voice chastising Chip, telling him to be careful. "You think?" I asked, grimacing.
"I know. They talk about you lots and not just in a housekeeper or cook capacity."
My brothers weren't given to random acts of affection and their body language was unreadable. But James's comment made me think they might miss me when I was gone. That, and the sounds of progress being made coming out of the kitchen.
"So what are you going to do about Robin?" I asked, cuddling Sherry a little closer. She yawned, batted her hand in the air, then slowly let it drop as her eyes slid shut.
"Besides hunting her down and reading her the riot act?" He scratched his chin with his forefinger, then shrugged. "Not much I can except wait for her to start feeling maternal. The biggest problem with that plan of inaction is that in the meantime I'm trying to set up this business and toting a baby is putting a crimp in my style."
"Now seriously, what kind of business are you setting up?" I asked. "I have this inkling it's not a knitting shop." I shifted the now sleeping Sherry in my arms, getting more comfortable.
"How do you know?" He canted his head to one side, granting me a semi-flirtatious sidelong glance.
It made me feel a little wobbly. "I know, because you don't have knitter's shoulder," I joked, hoping to allay the sensations his attention gave me.
A slow smile slipped across his face. "Okay. I'll bite. What is knitter's shoulder?"
I looked away, the wobbly sensation increasing. "A condition that affects chronic knitters," I said, trying to sound serious. "After prolonged periods of knitting the right shoulder twitches upward at one-second intervals."
"You're making that up."
I sighed my defeat. "I thought I was better than that."
He laughed. "I don't think you know how to lie."
"Oh, don't grant me sainthood yet," I said. "In Grade 4 I told Dan VandeKeere that I knew how to drive a tractor when it was really Carter who was driving. He just let me steer."
"How old was Carter?"
"Probably about fourteen." I had forgotten how Carter used to let me ‘help’ him drive when he was baling straw in the fall. Everyone had a job during harvest. Chip would be with Mom, who drove the grain truck between the fields and the yard, Neil would be back at the farm to help with unloading and Dad would be combining. Carter would take me in the tractor while he baled straw. My job was to make sure the baler wasn't plugging up and to count bales. My best days were the ones when Carter let me "drive" the tractor even though he was barely old enough to be driving himself.
"That's a wonderful memory," James said quietly.
"Yeah. It is." I smiled thinking about it. Even got a momentary warm feeling about my brothers, which was unusual these days. I turned back to James, feeling all mellow. "So, really, what are you figuring on doing?"
He shrugged. "Some horse training. I'm looking at leasing a building and setting up my own facility."
"Hence the need to talk to the bankers." His reply created a sliver of hope. The hope that rodeo was only something he just did part time. For recreation.
"Hence." He laughed. "I didn't think people used that word anymore."
"It's in the social worker phrase book. 'At age six, Zeke was pushed out of the line for the slide at the playground, hence his use of his fists to make his point with the current caseworker.'"
"You ever get hit?"
"By some of the younger clients. I've been threatened by the older ones."
"You sound so casual about it. Aren't you ever afraid?"
"Sometimes. I pray a lot and trust that God will protect me." I thought of Steve Stinson. He was one person who genuinely gave me the creeps, but so far I haven't had to deal with him again. I hoped Chip wouldn't, either.
"So you have your extreme moments in your line of work, as well."
"I suppose I do, though I don't think of it that way. It's part of my job."
Another shared smile. This time I didn't look away, though I should have. James's expression grew serious and our previous kiss loomed large between us. I had to forget it. I had to keep my eye on the prize. A shiny new job in the city.
So why didn't I break the connection? It was simple kinetics. Lower chin, move eyes. Invisible hands held my head, kept me looking at him. Losing my breath.
His simple plans had ignited a hope in me I hadn't dared allow before. Could it be...
"So, dishes are done, wicked stepsister. Anything else on your agenda?" Neil called out as he, Chip and Carter trooped into the living room.
My heart started up again, thudding in my chest. I diverted my attention to my brothers.
"Where's Dad?" I asked.
"He's still trying to figure out where to put the salad spoons." Carter dropped into one of the easy chairs and kicked aside the pile of newspapers on the coffee table so he could put his feet there. "We could have told him, but what would be the fun in that?"
Chip sat on the couch between us and Carter shot him a warning look. Oblivious to Carter's unspoken hint, Chip slouched down, wiggled to get comfortable and folded his hands over his stomach. "Any word on that lease yet?" he asked James, rolling his head sideways.
James said nothing. Chip poked him. "Yo. James, my man. Talking at ya."
James blinked, as if coming from a ways away, then gave Chip an apologetic look. "Sorry, brain freeze."
"Asking about the lease. Did you get it?"
"I think so. Things are looking positive."
"And next weekend," Chip asked. "You still on?"
Neil jabbed Chip in the stomach and Carter frowned.
And my sister radar jumped into high gear.
"What's next weekend?" I asked, trying to sound innocent. Things had been so busy for me the past couple of weeks I had been out of the loop when it came to my brother's plans.
"Um, nothing," Neil said with a wide grin that showed me beyond a doubt they had some scheme happening that they didn't want me to know about.
I looked from Neil to Carter to Chip but they all just looked away.
Whatever. If it had something to do with their bet with James, I didn't want to know. For now I was allowing myself the tiny glow of pleasure in his company.
Sherry shifted in my arms and I tried to get comfortable, but James noticed me fiddling around. He put his hands on his knees and shoved himself to his feet. "I'd love to sit and make more plans with you guys, but I should get my niece to bed."
I gave him a grateful look and shifted to get up. Letting sleeping babies lie was a good maxim here.
James gave me his hand, and I reluctantly took it, letting him pull me to my feet.
I would not look at the avid audience that was my brothers. I knew this little family moment was like icing on the cake for them. First the mechanic shop looked to be a reality and now their sister was holding hands with the man they tapped to be their future brother-in-law.
Don't count your chickens, I thought, pulling my hand a little too quickly out of James's.
Jam
es and I were quiet on the short walk back to the house. I could have given Sherry to him, but I was reluctant to let go of her and, I reasoned to myself, I didn't want to jostle her.
At least that was my reasoning.
Deep down, a part of me kind of hoped James and I might have some time to ourselves.
And your job?
I gave James a sidelong glance and felt that quiver deep in my soul that he had created the past few days.
Did I dare allow this? Let myself go back to a place I had spent weeks and months trying to get away from?
James came with complications and was part of my brother's plans. Could I trust him?
He held the door open for me when we came to the house and gave me a gentle smile as I walked past.
"I'll bring her to her crib," I said.
"Good. I'll just stay downstairs."
Unspoken was the idea that he would be waiting. For me.
I carefully opened Sherry's door and laid her in her crib. Her arms flung out when she hit the mattress, but then she snuffled, and her fingers relaxed, curling back against her palm. I covered her with a blanket and waited a moment to make sure she would remain sleeping.
I took a chance and stroked her soft cheek, smiling as she eased out a baby sigh.
She was really cute when she was sleeping. I caught a hint of James in her profile and as I watched her, I felt an older, deeper yearning curl up inside of me. I had always wanted a large family. Had imagined myself many times with a passel of children but in the past four years that dream had lain stagnant.
Until now.
I wished I could so easily dismiss my changing feelings for James. Wished I could simply dismiss him as a game my brothers were playing with me.
I knew it wasn't so easy. I knew what attraction felt like, true attraction and connection. I also knew whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not, I had experienced that with James.
"Goodnight, muffin," I whispered, sending up a prayer for her mother, hoping she would realize what a treasure she had walked away from.
Then before I could weave too many more fantasies, I walked out of the room.
James stood in the living room, his back to me. He spun around and as I closed the door, he came closer, coming to a stop bare inches away.
"Obviously she settled okay. I don't hear her crying," he said quietly.
"She's fine. I hope she sleeps the rest of the night for you." I glanced up at him, then away. I knew I should go, but some unseen force wouldn't let me.
"By the way, thanks for supper," I said.
"You didn't eat much."
"Wasn't that hungry."
"Too much salt, right?"
"That and a few other things." I flashed him a wry grin. "I guess I should have said that more diplomatically."
"No. No. Honesty is good." He shifted his weight, which brought him even closer. "I like that about you."
"Blame it on living with four guys who've never met a cellophane bag they couldn’t poke a hole in to get what they needed." I thought a joke might lighten the atmosphere, which was shifting toward potential relationship stuff. Just like it had the other night.
But he didn't even smile. He said nothing. My cue to leave. The longer I stayed here the more my brothers would speculate, and the more I would dream. But my feet seemed to have developed some type of palsy and stayed where they were.
I lived in a crowded house, was busy all day with other people, I had good friends, a strong relationship with the Lord, but it was a gentle yearning for a relationship, a basic girl/guy loneliness I didn't want to analyze that kept me rooted to the spot.
James's face was a foot away from mine and when he lifted his arm and placed his hand on the frame of the door behind me, the foot became mere inches. I swallowed, but kept myself statue still. I wasn't making the first move. In fact I wasn't making any move. In a few weeks I would be away from Holmes Crossing living in the city and...
Then James lowered his head as his eyes drifted shut. I kept mine open to anchor myself in reality as his lips met mine. He pulled back a hair's breadth and his breath feathered over my cheek. I swallowed as my heart started up. Time wheeled slowly, slowly.
The practical part of me resisted. But the other, lonely, yearning, romantic part that was attracted to James, wouldn't.
Gradually, I closed the distance between us, let my hand drift up his chest, over his neck and tangle in his hair at the nape of his neck.
I knew I had to stop. So why couldn't I? Was I so shallow that all James had to do was come close and I was kissing him?
"What's happening here, Dani?" James whispered, his use of my nickname sending little flutters of intimacy down my spine.
I swallowed as I let my hand drift down his shoulder. I straightened his collar, smoothed down the front of his shirt, reluctant to let go of this fragile contact. "I don't know," I whispered.
He brushed his lips over the top of my head, lowered his hand to my face and cupped my chin, lifting my face to look at him.
"You're an amazing person, you know. I knew that from the first time I saw you." His voice was pitched low and soft, and his words wrapped me in warm comfort.
Until they penetrated to the analytical part of my brain and I remembered how we first "met." I concentrated on the fold of his collar to distract myself from his gentle smile and the glow of his eyes.
"I need to know something, James," I said, smoothing the collar down. "When you took me out the first time, you were talking about Schubert and poetry."
James nodded, moving in again. I put my hand on his warm chest, trying to ignore the steady thump of his heart. "Was that real or fake?"
James drew back, looking puzzled. "What do you mean?"
I was going to stay casual about it. Be a woman of the world. But the James of that "date," the James of the "Jigs" and the James that I was getting to know were getting intertwined. I didn't know which one was real and which one was put on.
"The whole bet thing you had going with my brothers when you were...Jigs. Your alter ego. The bet that you could fool me and take me out. When did that stop and..." I was about to add "and this begin," but I didn't want to put a voice to what we had just shared. It was so fragile and uncertain and I wasn't sure myself where to put it alongside the bet my brothers had made with him, or where it fit with plans that were coming to fruition.
"What?" There was no way James could fake the frown that creased his brow and for a moment I wondered if I should carry on. But I had begun this and knew that I needed to finish it. The longer I spent with James, the more confused I became.
"I heard my brothers saying they had made a bet with you. That you wouldn't be able to get me to go out with you. When you were...Jigs. Your alter ego."
James pulled away, scratching his cheek with his forefinger. "There was never any bet, Danielle."
I stared at him. "What do you mean, no bet? There was a bet. I heard Neil and Chip say so."
James's frown grew hard and for a moment I wished I hadn't even brought it up. "What do you mean there was a bet?"
"The day I met you at the garage where they work I heard the guys say they bet I would come around. Chip said he would take that."
James held his hand up as if to stop me. "They may have said bet and you may have heard it, but I never took them up on it. I treated it as a joke, but I wasn't part of it."
Part of me heard and acknowledged this, but the part that still hurt carried on. "What about showing up at the restaurant the next day? You had shaved and were wearing decent clothes. You were James, and you were different."
James gave me a feeble smile. "Not completely different."
"And what about the Schubert and the poetry? Was that part of it?"
He stepped back holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, that was laying it on a bit thick."
My heart fell. "So it was part of the bet."
"How many times do I have to tell you, there was no bet." James stood with his
hands on his hips. "The day I saw you after I met you for the first time, I had a meeting with the bank about getting a loan to start my training facility. I saw you, said hi and you were friendly, which was a real switch from the last time I saw you. By the time I realized you didn't recognize me, well..." He lifted his shoulder in a negligent shrug. "I didn't think there was anything wrong in capitalizing on it."
I jumped on the last thing he said. "Capitalizing on it?"
"Well, yeah." He gave me his now patented crooked grin and took a step closer. "I could tell you liked me and I liked you." He shrugged. "I figured it was my chance."
"Chance?"
"For a social worker who uses the word 'hence' you sure seem to have lost your grip of the English language."
"So even though the set-up wasn't about a bet, you were still playing me. Laughing at me. Treating me like a joke. Not much different from a bet, I would say." I felt such a mixture of emotions I wasn't sure which to process first.
Relief that he hadn't been a part of the bet, and yet I still felt like I had been played.
"The only joke is the way you're reacting to this." He gave me a crooked grin which was, I guessed, supposed to make me smile. Instead it only increased my frustration. "You should feel flattered that I cared enough to research some dead composer and pretend I knew what I was talking about," he continued.
"Flattered?" I glared at him. "That you wanted to deliberately fool me into thinking you were someone you weren't?"
"Not deliberately. I was utilizing an advantage. And from what your brothers told me about you, I needed every 'in' I could get."
"In? What do you mean, 'in'?"
"Your brothers told me you were a hard sell. That you were tough and independent, but that you liked poetry and music and other things like that. I have never met anyone like you before, and from the moment I saw your picture in the garage where your brothers worked, I knew I wanted to meet you. Then I saw you in the grocery store and then at Neil and Chip's garage and you brushed me off like a fly."
"I brushed you off because you had bloodshot eyes and wouldn't help me with the tire." I glared at him as something else registered. "Tough and independent?"
Any Man of Mine (Holmes Crossing Book 5) Page 16
