- -
- 100%
- +
Slowly, she shook her head, startled out of her wits when a hurt, angry “Fine! Do whatever you want to!” exploded out of the kid’s mouth, at the precise moment they both heard his father’s barked, “Robbie! What in the devil’s name are you doing here?”
Winnie jumped to her feet as Robbie started, just as Aidan emerged from the woods at the side of the house. And even through unshed tears, Winnie could tell he was one seriously pissed hombre.
Aidan barely caught Winnie’s surreptitious swipe at her eyes before he refocused his attention on his son, who looked more confused than guilty.
“Nothin’. I just…” He glanced at Winnie, then back at Aidan. “I just wanted to find out who she was, that’s all—”
“It’s okay,” Winnie started to say, but Aidan shot her a quelling look that, amazingly, actually shut her up. Then he looked back at Robbie.
“You know better than t’go anywhere without first checking in with Florita or me,” he said quietly. “Flo was beside herself with worry. So you get yourself back up to the house, right now. And except to go to school, don’t plan on leaving it for at least t’ree days.”
“Dad!”
“Go on.”
Grumbling, the lad took off; when he’d disappeared from sight, Winnie said, “That was a little harsh, wasn’t it?”
Aidan pivoted, almost grateful for a reason to be angry with her. “For breaking the one rule Junie and I insisted on from the time he could walk? I don’t think so. And where d’you get off criticizing my decisions?”
She dug in her pants pocket for a tissue, blew her nose. “Sorry,” she mumbled into the tissue, then crossed her arms. “You’re right, it’s not my place. Although if you notice I didn’t say anything in front of R-Robbie.”
Aidan looked away. “I suppose I should be grateful for that, at least.”
“Yes, you should,” she said, sounding stronger. “I swear I had no idea you didn’t know where he was—”
“And didja think I would have allowed him to come here?”
“How the hell should I know, Mr. Come Up to the House For Dinner Tonight—?”
“Didja tell him?”
“That I was his birth mother? Of course not,” she said in the manner of a woman who’s had it up to here. “I’m not that stupid. Or selfish. Or a liar. I said I wouldn’t say anything, and I didn’t. Besides, if I had, don’t you think that would’ve been the first thing out of his mouth when he saw you?”
“But he said—”
“He asked who I was. So I told him my name, I didn’t figure that could hurt anything. Especially since you told me he didn’t know.” Although she appeared to have recovered her equilibrium, her body language positively screamed her turmoil. An intuition confirmed when she added, “Maybe dinner tonight’s not such a good idea.”
“And here you’d sworn you’d changed,” Aidan said over an unaccountable surge of anger.
Her eyes widened, until, suddenly, he saw realization dawn. “I honestly didn’t think I’d feel any real connection,” she said in quiet amazement, looking away. “Not after all these years. And certainly not after two short conversations. ” She swiped a hand across her nose. “So, yeah, I guess I’m right back where I was eight and a half years ago.” Her eyes veered to his. “He’s a really great kid.”
Aidan swallowed. “You can thank June for that.”
She studied him for such a long time his face began to heat. “I wish I’d known her better.”
“You had your chance.”
“I know,” Winnie said softly, then released a breath. “I’m leaving in the morning. I won’t bother you again.”
The rush of relief wasn’t nearly as sweet as he might have expected. But then, nothing was these days. And probably never would be again, he thought as she added, “If Robbie wants to see me when he’s older—”
“How will you explain?”
“That we’ve already met? I don’t know.” She forked her bangs off her forehead. “If I’m lucky, maybe it won’t matter by then.” A chagrined half smile touched her mouth. “Sorry for the trouble.”
Unable to speak for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, Aidan simply nodded, then turned toward the path. He’d been so thrown, when he’d discovered Robbie’d gone missing, that he’d taken off on foot without thinking. Now he faced one helluva hike back up the mountain—
He frowned, noticing the pumpkins lined up on the porch. Not as many as June would have gathered, but enough to prick the treacherously thin membrane containing the memories. He twisted back around. “Did Robbie say anything else? Aside from asking who you were?”
Winnie gave him a strange look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Neither do I, really. It’s just…I don’t know what he’s thinking anymore—”
The words had fallen from his mouth without his brain even giving a nod of approval. As if Winnie herself had somehow pulled them out of him. But that was crazy. Impossible. His gaze shifted again to the pumpkins, glowing in the last rush of daylight, and he could have sworn he saw faces in them already. Or at least, one face in particular—
“If you want to know what we talked about,” Winnie said softly, “maybe you should ask him yourself.” Then she disappeared inside the house before he could say, Have a safe trip.
Not that he would have, but he would have liked the chance.
That distant rooster’s crow keeping her company, Winnie thunked yet another pumpkin into the truck bed the next morning, her stomach none too chipper about the carton of Snickers ice cream she’d forced into it the night before in some lame attempt to staunch the ache. And not just for herself, or even the child she’d given up the right to call her son years before, but for the agony in Aidan’s eyes. The fear, that having already lost his wife, he might lose his child, as well.
Even if she doubted he knew that’s what he was feeling. But he was definitely aware of the communication break-down. He just didn’t know what to do about it.
Oh, and like you do?
Winnie sighed. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She supposed she could call the man and say, “Two words: family counseling.” And she might yet…once she crossed the Texas border. Even so, whatever these people needed, she wasn’t the one to supply it. And not only because her timing couldn’t have been worse, but also because…
Because she couldn’t handle it.
Just like she hadn’t been able to handle it before, when she’d backed out of their arrangement. Aidan was right, she hadn’t changed at all. Or a’tall, as he might say.
She’d been half tempted to toss everything into the truck and take off right then and there, until reason prevailed and she realized she was far too emotionally drained for the long drive back, especially at night. Although—breathing hard, she glared at the thirty-pound monster pumpkin still on the porch, decided Forget it—considering how badly she’d slept again, she might as well have left last night. If she had—
“C’mon, girl,” she called to the dog, then climbed up behind the steering wheel after her.
—she’d be home by now. Home, with all this craziness behind her—
“What the heck?” she muttered when she turned the ignition key and got…nothing. Not a growl, not a rumble, not even a burp.
She tried again. Still nothing.
Her eyes shut, Winnie slumped back in her seat. Muttering bad words. While she wasn’t the most mechanically inclined chick in the world, even she knew a dead battery when she heard it. Or in this case, didn’t hear it. But how could that be? She’d just had a tune-up before the trip, she hadn’t left the lights on or anything…
So much for her dramatic exit. Okay, not so dramatic, it wasn’t like she had any witnesses, except for the pumpkins and the dog. But still. In her head, it had been dramatic.
On a weary sigh, Winnie fished her phone out of her shirt pocket and punched in Aidan’s cell number. Nothing there, either, not even voice mail. The man truly took reclusiveness to new heights. And she had no clue what his house phone was, or if he even had a landline.
On another, even wearier sigh, she banged open her truck door, slid to the ground, waited for the dog, then began what turned out to be a surprisingly long trek up the leaf-strewn dirt road, the crowing growing louder with each step.
Chapter Five
“Day-um,” Winnie muttered twenty long, panting minutes later, when she came upon the multilevel, timber-and-glass-and-tin-roof mountain hideaway set in the fowlinfested clearing, every surface either blending into or reflecting its surroundings. Not the place to be in case of a forest fire, she thought over the frenzied clucking of chickens with a Border collie in their midst, followed closely by, Then again, some things are worth the risk.
And standing here gawking at it wasn’t getting her home.
She and Annabelle waded through the chickens—well, Winnie waded; Annabelle did her slinking herding thing, only to discover that chickens didn’t herd—then climbed the stone steps leading up to the wide-planked porch. Winnie pressed the doorbell, twisting to admire the incredible view while she waited for Florita to answer. A few seconds later, she heard the door open behind her, followed by a chilly pause.
She turned. Not Florita.
“You have chickens?”
“Flo has chickens,” Aidan grumbled.
“Speaking of whom…Where is she?”
“Out. Took her niece shopping.”
“Tess? The one who’s pregnant—?”
“What do you want?”
“Not a morning person, are we?” Aidan glowered at her. Winnie sighed, trying not to notice how well his paintsmeared, waffle-weave Henley clung to his torso. That his hair was still damp from his shower, all cherub-curly around his anything-but-cherubic features. That apparently her hormones and his pheromones were a perfect match. “My car battery’s dead,” she said, holding her breath. “I need a phone book. Or the number of a mechanic.”
“You don’t belong to an auto club?”
“Since I never go anywhere—up until now, I mean—it didn’t seem worth the expense.”
“Did you leave your lights on?”
“No, I did not leave my lights on,” she said, thinking, What is this, twenty questions? a split second before Aidan said, “So you jumped into your truck and drove all the way here without checking first to make sure everything was in working order?” and Winnie wondered if he had any idea how close she was to smacking him clear into next week.
“Okay, Aidan? This little detour was not on my agenda this morning, so I was already halfway to pissed when you opened the door. Of course I had the truck tuned up before I left. And the battery’s new, I had it replaced before right before the trip, I have no idea why it’s dead. So if you’d just hand me the phone book—”
“You walked all the way up here from the Old House?”
Apparently completely oblivious to her having just read him the riot act, Aidan was now squinting past Winnie’s shoulder. Wondering what sort of fumes he’d been breathing over the years, she muttered, “Short of saddling Annabelle, that was my only option…What are you doing?”
What he was doing was putting on a denim jacket and coming out onto the porch, closing the house door behind him. Then he kept going, turning when he got halfway down the porch steps to spit out, “Well? Are y’coming with me or not?”
She crossed her arms. “Excuse me—did I pass out for a second and miss a chunk of the conversation? Coming with you where?”
That got a put-upon sigh. “Back to your truck, of course.”
“And…why are you taking me back to my truck?”
Another sigh. “So I can have a look myself?” At her continued blank stare, he added, “Before you go and t’row your money at some yahoo who’d be only too glad to take it from you for basically nothing?”
Apparently, the more agitated he became, the heavier his accent got. It was almost cute, in a remarkably irritating kind of way. “Somehow you don’t strike me as the mechanical type.”
“Looks can be deceivin’. Now can we get a move on? I haven’t got all day.”
“Oh, for God’s sake—just give me the damn phone book so I can call a mechanic or somebody—”
“Don’t know where t’is,” Aidan said, continuing to his own truck.
On a sigh, Winnie followed.
Ten minutes later, the verdict was in.
“It’s not your battery,” came Aidan’s half-muffled voice from in the bowels of her truck. “It’s your alternator.”
“Are you kidding me?” Against her better judgment, she got right up beside him to have a look, staring so hard into the netherworld under her truck’s hood she could almost ignore the low, steady hormonal hum thrumming through her veins. Like getting too close to uranium with a Geiger counter. “So that’s what killed my battery?”
“It would seem so.”
Not that Winnie entirely knew what she was looking at, but at least she knew what an alternator was for. Of course, she knew what her kidneys were for, too, but she didn’t know what they looked like, either. With her luck, it would probably be cheaper to get a new kidney.
As though reading her mind, Aidan said, “The good news is, I can change out both and save you a bundle.” Although he didn’t sound like this was exactly good news for him.
“And the bad news?”
He slammed shut her hood, wiping his hands on an old rag he’d had in his own truck. “What makes you think there’s bad news?”
“Could be that dark cloud always hanging over your head.”
He looked at her steadily for a long moment—tick! tick! tickticktickticktick!—then let out the sigh of a man whose patience is being sorely tried. “If we set out for Santa Fe now, we can pick up the parts and I can have you on your way after lunch.”
“I hate to put you to so much trouble—”
“And we can stand here arguing for the rest of the mornin’, or you can stop being so bloody stubborn and we can get goin’.”
“Can Annabelle come, too?”
And yet another sigh. “Yes, Annabelle can come, too.”
“You really can’t wait until I’m gone, can you?” she said, reluctantly trooping around to the passenger side of his truck and climbing in. After Annabelle.
From behind the wheel, Aidan muttered, “Truer words were never spoken.” And yanked the shift into Reverse.
You have no idea, Aidan thought as they pulled out onto the highway leading to Santa Fe, how much I want you gone. How much damage those big blue eyes, that smart mouth, were doing. He had never thought of himself as the protective type when it came to women, not even before he met June, who’d prided herself on her self-sufficiency. At first Aidan had assumed that June’s being so much older than he accounted for her self-confidence, but the longer he knew her the more he realized that’s simply who she was.
And it wasn’t that Winnie was helpless, her obvious inability to pick a decent mechanic notwithstanding. Far from it. In fact, Aidan surmised that any man fool enough to play the Little Woman card with her would find both him and his card reduced to pulp. Still, there was something about the woman—
“You really know how to install a new battery and alternator?” she asked from the other side of the far-too-short bench seat.
—that would drive him completely ‘round the bend before lunch, if he didn’t keep his guard up.
“I really do.” From the seat behind them, her dog groaned. “My mother’s family’s farmed for generations. By the time I was fourteen I was an old hand at fixing tractors and such. And anyway, when you live out in the sticks you learn to take care of your own t’ings, not count on somebody else to do it for you.”
“Oh,” she said, then fell silent, thinking her own thoughts, and Aidan realized with a punch to his gut that the stillness was much, more worse than her blathering.
Desperate to flatten the silence, he said, “So. What will you do when you get back?”
“Please don’t feel obligated to make polite conversation,” she said, wearily. “I know you’re not really interested.”
Her rebuke stung far more than he would have expected. Even if she was dead-on in her assessment. “I’m sorry if I come across as somewhat…gruff. One of the hazards of keeping to myself so much.” When she didn’t reply, he stole a glance at her profile. “And that’s the best I can do for an apology, so if you’re expectin’ more—”
“I’m not expecting anything, Aidan. I never was.” She paused, then added, “I never do.”
“Have you really had it that bad?” he said, and her head snapped around. After a moment, she shook it.
“No, actually,” she said, suddenly guarded. “There’s just…been a lot of disappointments along the way. A broken promise here, a broken heart there…”
A soft laugh preceded, “But, hey—I’ve got my dog, right? And I’ve got friends back home, and a house and a business…things could be a lot worse.” She hesitated, then said, “For what it’s worth, I think I’m an okay person. Should the subject ever arise with Robbie,” she added when Aidan frowned at her. “I don’t smoke, don’t drink enough to count, don’t cheat, don’t gamble—at least, not with money—and when I say I’ll do something, I do it. Like my degree—took me six years, but I did it.”
“And you don’t strike me as the academic sort.”
Winnie snorted. “We’re talkin’ early childhood education, not a doctorate in advanced physics. Or obscure English authors of the eighteenth century. Not that it was a walk in the park. You have no idea the psychology classes you have to take, just to teach elementary school.” She laughed again. “Little kids are so neat. And while I’m waiting on having my own—”
At her breath catch, Aidan’s head swung around. But she lifted one hand in a clear attempt to ward off his concern.
“Sorry, that kinda took me by surprise. So. Let’s talk about you.”
“You already know everyt’ing y’need to know.”
“If you mean that meeting with the lawyer nine years ago, I’m thinking an update’s probably in order.”
“And if your car hadn’t broken down, you would’ve left without your ‘update.’ And probably none the worse for not getting it.”
“True. But obviously I wasn’t meant to go home this morning.”
“It doesn’t necessarily follow we were meant to bond.”
“Ohmigosh. Was that an attempt at humor?”
“No.”
She laughed. And Aidan sighed, because deep down he wasn’t a bad person, either, just one who preferred his existence as complication-free as possible. So while he took some small pleasure in Winnie’s better mood, he took none whatsoever in…all the rest of it.
“And here we are,” he said, immensely grateful.
He pulled off the highway into the Auto Zone parking lot, fully aware of Winnie’s smirk. They got out of the truck, their doors slamming shut in rapid-fire succession, Winnie striking out across the lot a few feet ahead. Aidan hustled to catch up, barely noticing the flash of red parking lights, the roar of the SUV’s engine, a split second before the driver—clearly not paying attention—gunned the huge black monster backward.
“Jaysus!” he bellowed, hauling Winnie backward against his chest an instant before the tank-size vehicle would’ve flattened her. Bastard didn’t even slow down.
“Are you all right?” he said in Winnie’s ear, her heart pounding against his arm where he still held her fast across her ribs, her scent storming the gates of his self-preservation, and through the rush of adrenaline a memory whispered, over his skin, through his blood.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said on a rush of air. A beat passed. “You can let go now.”
He did; setting herself to rights—a tug here, an adjustment there—Winnie glared in the direction of the vanished car. “Dirtwad,” she muttered, then continued toward the entrance. Except she suddenly spun on Aidan and said, “You are such a phony,” and he said, “What?” and she said, with much gesticulating, “You might talk tough and all, do the whole I don’t give a damn about people routine, like that’s supposed to scare people off.” She yanked open the store’s door before he could do it for her. “Except anybody with two eyes in their head can see it’s all just a great big act.”
Inexplicably furious, Aidan grabbed Winnie’s arm as soon as they were inside. She whirled around, her expression a combination of irritation and curiosity. But fear? Not a bit of it.
“Believe me,” he snapped, his own heart pounding five times harder than hers had a moment ago, “I give a damn. About Robbie, about the people who matter to me. Just because I prefer to keep that circle small doesn’t mean I don’t care about the people who are in it.” He let her go. “Is that clear?”
Their gazes tangled for several seconds before, word-lessly, she headed toward the counter in back. And as she did, Aidan became acutely aware that every set of male eyes in the place veered to her like divining rods.
His forehead knotting, he tried desperately to see what they found so damned interesting and failed miserably. Yes, he supposed she had a way of moving that was somewhat…arresting. And what man in his right mind wouldn’t notice her hair, shiny as wet paint beneath the lights? Or the way her worn jeans cupped her legs and bottom below that soft as cream velvet jacket? But aside from that…Winnie was nothing extraordinary. Certainly not the kind of woman to make a man’s eyes bug out.
And certainly there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for the bizarre spike of jealousy whenever one of the local yokels gave her the eye.
Oddly, she had no problem with telling the balding, potbellied clerk exactly what they needed. To the man’s credit, he at least waited until Winnie’s gaze drifted elsewhere before looking to Aidan for a nod of confirmation. Then he vanished into the back, only to return moments later. With only the battery.
“Sorry, we don’t have the alternator in stock. But tell you what, let me see…” He started tapping on a computer keyboard in front of him. “Uh…yeah, I can get one of my Albuquerque stores to send one up tomorrow, if that’s okay. Or I can put it on hold if you want to drive on down there and pick it up yourself.”
“Damn,” Winnie muttered, then turned to Aidan. “I can’t possibly ask you to drive to Albuquerque. The round trip would take, what? Two hours, at least?”
“Probably three, this time of day.” Aidan gritted his back teeth. “But I don’t mind. Really.”
“Of course you mind, it would mean giving up most of your day. And then I wouldn’t be able to leave before late this afternoon, anyway. Call me crazy, but I’m not real big on driving through vast stretches of nothing after dark.” She turned to the clerk. “Any other supply stores in town?”
“Sure thing,” the very helpful clerk—clearly as spell-bound as every other male in the place—said, hauling a phone book up onto the counter. “Why don’t you go ahead and call around while I take care of those folks over there, then let me know what you decide, how’s that?”
With a huge sigh, Winnie pulled out her cell phone and started calling. Five minutes and as many phone calls later, she gave Aidan wide, spooked eyes.
Because, for reasons known only to God, there was not a single alternator that would fit her truck within fifty miles of Santa Fe.
One more day.
That much, she could handle, Winnie told herself as they headed back to Tierra Rosa, Annabelle panting hotly in her ear. Her skin prickled with the memory of those strong arms wrapped around her, the feel of warm, solid male chest against her back, and she thought, Okay, so it’s been a long time.
Of course, she reminded herself, Aidan had only been saving her life, it wasn’t like he wanted to hold her or anything, so it didn’t count. Her hormones snickered and said, Oh, believe me, honey…it counts.
Winnie hazarded a peek at his profile as they drove—the set jaw, the dour expression, the eyes focused straight ahead—and tried to figure out why in the name of all that was holy she was attracted to the man. Not in any logical kind of way, but on some very basic level that could really mess with her head if she let it.