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DUSTY CLIMBED OUT of his truck and welcomed the cold as he waited for Teressa. He’d never in his life wanted to hit a woman before, but he was ashamed to admit he’d come close tonight. What kind of mother talked to her daughter that way? It burned a hole in his gut wondering how long Teressa had been putting up with that crap.
Collina was a small village, and if Teressa had ever been promiscuous, he’d never heard about it. And he’d always paid attention when the gossip involved her. He had no patience for the women-are-sluts, guys-are-studs bullshit. People were people, and normal people needed sex.
He leaned against the truck fender and crossed his ankles. Okay, so he hadn’t liked it when she went out with Corey, but he’d been dating... He frowned and tried to recall who he’d been dating at the time. Patricia? Sherry? Point was, he wasn’t a saint. But when she got pregnant... Yeah. Whole different ballgame. As far as he knew, Teressa had only had two boyfriends, and Stan, Brendon’s father, had been more a bad idea than a boyfriend.
The point was Mrs. Wilder had no business talking to her daughter that way. Teressa was a good mom and a good woman. Earlier tonight, when her mother had bad-mouthed her, Dusty had watched something die in Teressa’s eyes. She seemed to shrink right in front of him. That was so wrong. She worked hard to keep her little family together and to make a success of the café. He knew she’d always wanted to be a chef somewhere fancy, but he rarely heard her complain about being head cook at his family’s café.
He’d been so proud of her a couple of months ago, about the same time their child had been conceived, when she’d managed to come up with the funds to buy a third share of the café. Adam had decided to buy in to the deal as the second partner, but then Sylvie realized she needed to hold on to a part of the café that had been originally bought for their mother, and became the silent third partner. Dusty smirked. Silent, as in not working there daily. She was pretty damned vocal about her vision for the future of the café.
He straightened away from the truck and pulled up a smile as Teressa drove into the yard. She was going to have a fit when she saw the shape his house was in. He should have gone inside and tried to straighten stuff up.
“Want me to get Brendon?” he asked when she got out of the car.
“Could you carry Sarah instead? It’s dark out here and she’s heavier.”
“Sorry. I’ll get an outside light hooked up tomorrow.” Right after he renovated the entire house.
He leaned down into the car. “Hey, Sarah. How about a piggyback to the house?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “What’s a piggyback?”
“I’ll show you. You get out of the car, and I get down like this. Now, you put your arms around my neck, and up we go.” He grabbed her legs and pulled them around his waist. Sarah squealed as he stood, and she grabbed a handful of his hair.
“Look at me, Mommy.”
Teressa pulled out of the backseat with a sleeping Brendon in her arms. She gave her daughter a weary smile. “You have to let go of Dusty’s hair, honey, but hold tight to his neck.”
Sarah released her death grip on his head to clamp a tiny hand right on his larynx. Dusty tried to breath, but his throat was blocked. He galloped to the house, anxious to get her off his back.
He put her down as soon as he reached the back stoop, took her hand and went inside, switching on the kitchen light. Teressa followed on his heels. They stood, silent, surveying the gutted house. The cold, gutted house. He’d been so excited that Pops had given him money to work with that he’d forgotten to start a fire before going to Teressa’s to tell her the good news.
“I know it’s a mess,” he began. Sarah let go of his hand and slipped behind her mother. Teressa looked everywhere but at him, tears brimming in her eyes.
“We’re going to fix it up,” he said in a loud voice. “I’ve hired Josh to work on the house instead of coming out on the boat with me. Cal said he’d help when he could, and Adam will, too. And me, of course. And you.” He sent a silent plea to Teressa. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“Of course it is,” Teressa said in a too bright voice. “Where are the bedrooms? Sarah and Brendon need to be in bed.”
He cleared his throat, feeling like a total loser. “Um...the bedrooms are crammed full of stuff right now. But I’ve got a king-size bed, and there’s lots of room for you and the kids.”
Teressa’s mouth hung open. “I’ll sleep out here,” he said and waved vaguely around the living room. “Just let me change the sheets on my bed.” And pick up the dirty clothes he’d left on the floor after his shower. And, hell, that magazine Andy had given him as a joke for his birthday last month.
He left them standing in the middle of the living room, looking like shell-shocked refugees. What was he supposed to have done? He couldn’t leave them at Teressa’s mom’s, and the closest hotel open at this time of the year was sixty kilometers away.
You could have taken them home. Although his father had given the old family house to Sylvie, he still thought of the house as home. Sylvie was living with Adam in his tiny house next door to the family home, because they planned to start renovating the old house soon, if they hadn’t already.
The truth was he needed to take care of Teressa and the kids himself. Which was stupid and selfish and proved he hadn’t a clue what he was doing.
Sarah stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her doll to her chest.
“Where’s your mother?”
“In the bathroom, crying.”
Hell. “Brendon?”
“He’s sleeping on the couch.” She stepped into the room. “You’re a bigger slob than Brendon.”
“I can change.” He tucked the edge of the bottom sheet under the mattress corner.
“How come Grammy hit Mommy?”
Because she was an evil witch. Dusty punched the pillow before he put it back on the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t know your grammy very well, but it’s wrong to hit people.”
“You hit that man at the bonfire.”
The annual bonfire, a couple months ago. He couldn’t remember if he’d hit the SOB who’d been sniffing around Teressa that night or not. He’d been so drunk he doubted he’d done any damage, and he’d been too embarrassed afterward to ask. He’d gotten the idea that he and Teressa were going to the bonfire together. Sort of like a couple. But she’d turned up with that tourist who’d been hanging around her, and when one of his buddies had passed Dusty the rum, he’d gotten a glow on.
No wonder Teressa wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of marrying him. At thirty-two, he still acted like a kid. He had to grow up fast.
“Are those your pajamas?” He threw the comforter over the clean bed.
“Yes.”
“Okay, climb in bed. I’ll get your brother.”
“What about Mommy?” she asked after crawling under the blankets. She looked so tiny in the middle of his bed.
“I’ll get her after you guys are settled.”
Two minutes later he carried Brendon to the bed and tucked the sleeping boy in beside his sister. “Is he supposed to go to the washroom or something?” The last thing he needed was kid pee on his expensive mattress.
“No, silly. He wears diapers at night.”
“Right. Okay. So, lights. Want them off or on?”
“Off, but leave the door open.”
He switched off the light and edged toward the door. “I’ll get your mom now.”
“Dusty?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re supposed to kiss us good-night.”
He felt a weird snick inside, almost as if something was clicking into place. He strode back to the bed, dropped a kiss on Sarah’s forehead, then leaned over her and kissed Brendon. “Good night, funny-face,” he said from the doorway.
Sarah giggled. “That’s not my name.”
Dusty smiled in the dark. “It is now.”
His smile slipped as he faced the closed bathroom door. He stared at it for a couple of minutes like the dumb idiot he was, then turned and walked back to the living room. Teressa had once told him she’d never caught a break in her life, and now here she was, stuck with him, a place she’d never wanted to be. He needed a beer.
He went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and popped the lid. He didn’t know what to say to Teressa to make her feel better. Your mother’s a bitch, forget about her? Everything’s going to be okay? Was it? He and Teressa squabbled on a regular basis, and that was with not nearly as much at stake. He had feelings for her, but were they enough to sustain them through having a child together?
He took a swig of beer. And yeah, he resented that she had children with two other guys. She’d have been smarter if she’d hung out with him. Except he’d been busy with...Suzy? Julie? He was such a shit. How could he be mad at Teressa for doing exactly what he’d been doing at the time? He put his beer on the counter and called Sylvie to let her know what had happened and ask for a favor. When he hung up, he went back to the bathroom. He had to at least try to make Teressa feel better.
He knocked softly on the door. “You okay?”
“Um, yes, of course.” He heard her run the water in the sink.
“We need to talk, Teressa.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
He stared at the door, waiting for her to say something else. Something smart-ass, like she usually did. After a couple of minutes he went back to his beer in the kitchen. He was out of his depth, and he wished someone would give him a checklist. Crying woman locked in bathroom—break down door. Check. All that would do was wake up the kids.
He tensed when he heard the bathroom door open and close. It took a few minutes, but Teressa finally walked into the kitchen. Shuffled into the kitchen. Hell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop from hauling her into his arms. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.
He and Teressa may have had their differences from time to time, but underneath all the stuff that went on between them, they were good friends. Teressa was a fighter, but her mother’s attack must have knocked her for sixty. And then, to come here to this mess.
“It’ll get better. I promise.”
She hugged herself. “Sure.”
“We’ll go to town tomorrow and pick up a few things. You have to start making a list of what we need. I mean, I know what building materials, but we’ll get a new stove and fridge, too. What else?”
She took a weary look around the kitchen. “What’s wrong with that stove? We don’t need to buy new. You can’t afford it, and neither can I.”
“The oven doesn’t work. What else do you need?”
She stuffed her hands into the sleeves of her faded pink dressing gown and hunched her shoulders. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to snap at her. He’d been meaning to get the oven fixed for months, but what did he need an oven for when he had a microwave?
“Hey.” He stepped into her space and waited until she looked at him. “It’s killing me, you acting like this. I need you to be fighting mad.”
“You hate when I argue with you.”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I like you just the way you are. Or the way you are most of the time. Spicy.” He raised his eyebrows up and down.
She glanced longingly at his beer. “Wish I could have one of those.”
He slapped a notepad and pen on the island in front of her. “Grocery list. We’ll pick up some food tomorrow, too. We’ll have to leave here by two.”
“I can’t. I’m working.”
“Adam said he’d cover for you, and Sylvie will babysit the kids. I need you to go to town with me, Teressa. There’s some business we need to take care of.”
“Like what?”
Oh, no. If he got into that, they’d be up all night arguing. Best to spring it on her at the last minute. “Stuff.” He finished his beer and put the empty on the counter. “If it’ll make it easier for you, I’ll quit drinking beer.”
A gleam sparked in her eyes. “You? Quit drinking? Now I’ve heard everything.”
“No biggie.”
She hooted with derision. Personally, he thought she was overreacting, but he let it go.
“Want to bet?” she challenged him.
He may not have liked the direction of the conversation, but at least Teressa was back in fighting form. This was familiar ground for them. They were always challenging each other over silly things.
“Absolutely. A hundred bucks says I can quit drinking anytime I want.”
“I don’t have a hundred dollars.”
His smile grew wider. “What have you got?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He loved watching her face turn a rosy pink as she punched him on the arm. She knew him too well. “I’ll let you pick out the name for the baby.”
“Really?” He frowned. “That’s a big responsibility.”
“I didn’t say I’d agree to use it.”
“What about the last name?”
“What about it?”
“I’d like my child to have my last name.”
She shook her head. “That won’t work. Both Sarah and Brendon have Wilder as their last name. It’ll be too confusing if their brother or sister has a different one.”
“That sucks. I just assumed when I had kids they’d have my name.” It surprised him how much it bothered him.
A yawn caught him by surprise. Because he had to start work so early in the morning, he was usually in bed by now. “We’ll talk about the name thing again. I’m too tired to argue with you right now. I’ve got to grab my clothes and sleeping bag out of the bedroom. I’ll try not to wake you in the morning.”
“Dusty?”
He stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah?”
“Thanks. For everything. I know you must be freaking out about...well, everything. If this—” she swept her hand as if to include the room “—doesn’t work out, I’ll find somewhere else to live.”
For the first time since he’d walked into her house tonight, panic tiptoed up his spine. They both knew there was nowhere else for her to live in Collina, except with her parents, and if he had any say in the matter, that wasn’t going to happen. He’d move out and let them have the house if he had to. But he knew if he told her that, she was contrary enough to pack up and leave that night.
But truthfully, the prospect of her—and Sarah and Brendon—staying was just as scary. It was a helluva situation they’d dug themselves into.
“Pops says you only get to live your life a day at a time. How about we concentrate on getting through tomorrow?”
“It’s a place to start,” she agreed.
He hated the sad smile on her face, and to stop himself from hugging her, he busied himself picking up a pair of dirty socks he’d kicked off by the door earlier. They both could use a hug, but she looked so fragile right now, he didn’t dare touch her. Last time he’d done that, she’d gotten pregnant.
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